Under Her Mark

Under Her Mark

The air in Mistress Nyx's room was cool, sterile, smelling faintly of lavender. Leather chairs for seating. Nothing here really screamed 'dungeon', yet the atmosphere felt thick with unspoken potential, heavy with the weight of absolute control. Mistress Nyx sat behind a large, minimalistic wooden desk, she was wearing her usual black dress, her dark hair pulled back tightly, revealing cold, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. Across from her sat the man known in this space only as a Puppet. He looked ordinary enough in his street clothes, around his mid-thirties, but beneath the surface, there was something needy... a deep-seated

need

that Nyx recognized instantly. It was the beautiful, desperate hunger of the true masochist.

"The standard release and consent form," Nyx stated, her voice calm, low, and utterly commanding as she slid a multi-page document across the desk along with a heavy, expensive-looking pen. "Read it carefully. Initial each page. Sign the last. Pay particular attention to Section Three regarding limits - yours are noted as no permanent marks below the neck, no blood play, and no scat. Correct?"

Puppet nodded, his throat dry. "Yes, Mistress." He picked up the pen, his hand trembling almost imperceptibly. He forced himself to read, though he knew the clauses well from previous sessions. Explicit consent for impact play, bondage (rope and leather), sensory deprivation, humiliation (verbal and situational), anal play including toys and pegging, orgasm control, temporary marking above the neck (light scratches, bruising), and general psychological domination. The legalese couldn't mask the raw intent. He initialed each page, the scratch of the pen loud in the quiet room, before signing the final page with a flourish that felt both like surrender and commitment.

Nyx took the form back, scanned his signature, and nodded once, filing it away neatly. "Safewords remain 'Red' to stop immediately and unconditionally, 'Yellow' to indicate nearing a limit or needing reduced intensity. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress. Understood."

"Good." A flicker of something that might have been anticipation, or perhaps just professional satisfaction, crossed Nyx's face. "Payment was received this morning. Your two-hour session begins now. Follow me."

She rose gracefully and led him through a discreet door concealed in the wall paneling. The transition was immediate. The cool sterility gave way to a different kind of atmosphere - warmer, smelling of leather, oil, and faint metallic tang. This was the dungeon. Black padded walls absorbed sound. Various tools hung aligned on racks - whips, paddles, canes, ropes of different materials. An imposing cross stood in one corner, a suspension rig with chains gleamed in another, and a sturdy medical examination table occupied the center of the dungeon.

"Strip," Nyx commanded, her voice losing its clinical edge, taking on a sharper, possessive tone. "Everything. Fold your clothes neatly on the designated bench."

Puppet obeyed quickly, his fingers fumbling slightly with buttons and zippers, the anticipation making him clumsy. Soon he stood naked before her, vulnerable under the dungeon's focused lighting, his erection already beginning to stir despite the fear coiling in his gut.

Nyx circled him slowly, her eyes critically assessing his body. "Still carrying pathetic excess flesh around the middle, I see," she commented coolly, poking his side sharply with a manicured finger. "And your posture is atrocious. Shoulders back. Present yourself properly." She walked behind him, her hand suddenly landing flat on his lower back, shoving him forward slightly. "Ass out. Show me your pathetic eagerness." She ran a cold finger down his spine, making him shiver. "We have much work to do today, Puppet. Much correction is needed."

She guided him towards the examination table, telling him to lie face down on it. Cold leather cuffs were swiftly secured around his wrists and ankles, attached to points on the table, stretching him out slightly, immobilizing him. He was at her mercy. Waiting for Mistress to make her first move.

"Let's begin by removing your least useful sense," she said sharply, and he felt the soft brush of a silk blindfold being tied securely around his eyes, plunging him into darkness. Immediately, his other senses heightened. The smell of the leather, the coolness of the table beneath him, the sound of Nyx moving around the room, selecting her first tool to use. Then, a thick, leather gag was buckled firmly into place, stretching his jaw, muffling any sounds he might make into groans and whimpers.

Their BDSM session began lightly. Nyx was dragging a feather on his back, his thighs, the soles of his feet. It should have been ticklish, but in the context of the bondage, the gag, the blindfold, and the anticipation of

more

, it was maddening, making his skin crawl, making him strain uselessly against the cuffs. Then came the soft, rhythmic

thwack

of a sudden flogger, landing gently at first across his buttocks, then gradually increasing in force, each impact a soft explosion of sensation, warming the skin, bringing blood to the surface.

Nyx's voice was a low murmur near his ear. "Feeling that, pet? Waking up your skin? Good. Because that was merely the prelude."

The flogger was replaced by something harder. A wide, flat leather paddle. The impacts were sharper now, louder, stinging intensely. Puppet groaned into the gag, hips bucking slightly against the table. Nyx worked methodically, covering his entire backside, moving to his thighs, delivering blows with precision and controlled force. She knew exactly how to build the pain, how to layer sensation upon sensation until his mind was consumed by it.

"Such pretty noises you make," she crooned mockingly as he whimpered. "Like a little piglet. Does it hurt? Of course it does. But you like it, don't you? You need this correction."

The paddle gave way to a thin, flexible cane. The sting was sharp, electric, biting deep. Each stroke left a burning weal, a focused line of fire. Puppet sobbed into the gag, tears leaking from under the blindfold, body trembling uncontrollably. This was pushing towards his limits, but the pain was also intensely grounding, intensely

real

. It was exactly what he paid for, what his masochistic soul craved. Nyx seemed to sense this, her rhythm relentless, interspersed with sharp commands to "Hold still!" or degrading observations about his reactions.

After what felt like an eternity of impact play, the rhythm changed. He heard the faint click of metal. Cold, sharp points suddenly bit into his nipples. Clamps. Tightened mercilessly. He arched off the table, a muffled scream trapped behind the gag. Then, more clamps - on his earlobes, pulling downwards. And finally, the agonizing, specific torment of clamps attached to his scrotum, pulling his balls taut, sending waves of nauseating pain-pleasure through him.

"Decorated now," Nyx whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Marked as mine. Feeling helpless? Good." He felt something cool and slick being applied around his anus. Preparation. His body tensed instinctively, but the humiliation of his own anticipation was part of the thrill. A finger probed, then two, stretching him ruthlessly. He groaned, muffled sounds vibrating through the gag. Then came the cold, hard pressure of a plug. Not excessively large, but firm, undeniable, filling him, stretching him, a constant reminder of his invaded vulnerability.

He lay there, trembling, marked, clamped, plugged, blindfolded, gagged, utterly helpless, every nerve ending screaming... and overwhelmingly aroused. The pain, the humiliation, the absolute loss of control - it was perfect.

Then, he heard the distinct sounds - the rustle of clothing, the click of buckles. Nyx preparing the harness. His breath hitched behind the gag. This was the part he craved and feared most. He felt her move behind him, felt the cool lubricant being applied liberally to the head of the strap-on dildo, then to his already plugged, stretched entrance. She unplugged her asshole throwing the plug in on the floor.

"Ready to receive your Mistress properly, Puppet?" she purred, the question purely rhetorical. He felt the thick, hard head press against him. He tried to brace himself, but there was no bracing for this. Nyx didn't hesitate. With a single, powerful thrust, she drove the strap-on deep inside him.

A raw scream was choked off by the gag as the dildo rammed into his asshole, stretching him brutally, filling him completely. The sensation was overwhelming - intense pressure, stretching pain, the specific friction against his prostate, the added agony from the clamps jostled by his convulsing body. Tears of pleasure and pain streaming down his face.

Nyx began to move, establishing a hard, relentless rhythm. She fucked him with impersonal efficiency, like using a tool, her thrusts deep and punishing. His body bucked and writhed against the restraints, muffled cries tearing from his throat. She rode him hard, sometimes adding a sharp slap to his ass or thigh, her voice a constant stream of degradation in his ear. "Taking it like the pathetic cunt you are." "Does this feel good, slut? Feeling owned?" "Beg for it. Oh, wait, you can't."

The combination of the deep, rough pegging, the constant ache from the clamps, the blindfolded helplessness, and the verbal humiliation sent him spiraling. Pleasure and pain fused into a single, unbearable, ecstatic agony. He was close, so close to the edge, desperate for release but knowing it would only come at her command, if at all.

She seemed to sense it, her thrusts becoming faster, harder, more brutal. He felt the orgasm building, an unstoppable wave, his body convulsing violently. Just as it crested, she pulled out abruptly, leaving him aching, empty, denied. A cruel laugh echoed near his ear. "Not yet, pet. You haven't earned it."

She proceeded to torment him further, re-inserting the dildo, fucking him to the edge again, then stopping. Using a vibrator against the base of the strap-on, sending maddening vibrations through him while he was denied to cum. The cycle repeated until he was sobbing uncontrollably, utterly broken, existing only as a vessel for her sadistic pleasure and his own masochistic need.

Finally, after one last, brutal round of pegging that left him feeling scoured clean, she allowed it. As she fucked him hard and fast, she reached around, her fingers finding his clamped cock, stroking him roughly, matching her rhythm. The combined stimulation was too much. With a final, choked scream into the gag, Puppet came, a violent, full-body spasm that left him utterly spent, consciousness flickering.

He lay there, boneless, for long moments after she withdrew the strap-on. Slowly, methodically, Nyx removed the clamps, the gag, the blindfold. The sudden return of senses was jarring. The dungeon swam back into focus. He could taste blood from biting the inside of the gag. His body throbbed, covered in red marks and cooling sweat.

Nyx stood observing him, wiping down the strap-on with a towel. Her face was impassive, perhaps a slight flush high on her cheekbones the only sign of exertion. She offered no comfort, no praise beyond the successful execution of the session.

"Session complete," she stated formally. She released his cuffs. "Water is on the side table. Clean yourself in the bathroom there is a shower and a towel for you. Your clothes are where you left them." She turned to leave. "Your next appointment is confirmed for the same time next week. Don't be late."

And then she was gone, leaving Puppet alone on the table, utterly drained, aching, marked, humiliated... and completely, blissfully satisfied. He had paid the price, offered his submission, and received his painful reward. He slowly, carefully pushed himself up, every muscle protesting, this kind of feeling he couldn't get anywhere else. "I love you Mistress Nyx she thought silently"

Until next week.