She knelt on the cement in the position he ordained for times of penitence. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her head down so her chin touched her chest. She shivered, partly from the cold dampness of the basement dungeon against her bare skin, and partly from fear of what would happen when her Master arrived. Her kneecaps ached miserably but it was nothing compared to what she feared her Lord and Master would do when he arrived. She'd screwed-up big this time and he'd banished her to the cellar to await her punishment. She'd been kneeling here for nearly an hour.
Footsteps approached, coming down the stairs in her Master's measured gait. His gnarled walking stick played a muted tempo - tok-tok-tok-tok. Her muscles tightened down her spine, raising goosebumps on her soft skin.
The Baron opened the door and strode into the room. His large frame filled the doorway, and the atmosphere of the entire room changed. Everything suddenly seemed more alive with a dark energy as his presence took hold around them. He stepped closer to her, the material of his pants brushing her shoulder and upper arm. Feeling the aura of his power crackle over her, she trembled in fear - and in want. He often had that effect on her. She adored him, this man of contradictions, and just a passing thought of him was sufficient to slam her libido into full-auto. Even at times like this, when she was afraid of him and what he was planning, her body thirsted for his touch in a way it never had for anyone else's.
He opened a drawer in a cabinet against the wall, and removed a 6-braided leather whip. Returning to her side, he slowly dragged the braids across her naked back. The caress was teasing and playful but she knew there was no gentleness in it.
"What is the Law?" he snarled. His voice was uncharacteristically stern and cross.
"The Law is all. The Law is perfect. The Law is to be obeyed," she replied, voicing the answers she'd had to learn when she first came to her Master's care months before. He was still tickling her with the whip.
"And WHO is the Law?"
"My great Lord and Master is the Law. You are to be obeyed."
"And what are you?"
The leather thongs left her back and she sagged visibly, the realization of what was about to happen hitting home. "I am my Master's property, a slave. My sole purpose is His pleasure. No life have I without Him, no joy is mine but to serve Him. Forever and ever, first, last, and always, I am His toy, His whore, His lover, His servant, whatever He would have me be."
"And how do you serve your Master?"
"I serve Him with my heart. Every minute of my life is because I love Him. More than breath or light or the very blood in my veins do I love Him." The litany finished, she clenched her teeth tightly and closed her eyes.
"Then why did you fail me?" The whip slashed down, its braids burning across her bare back like a talon. She allowed herself a faint whimper of pain, knowing her Master wanted to know she felt what he'd done. Another cruel stroke of the whip, this time leaving behind pink rose lines on her pale skin. A third time the lash fell, and with this stroke her sex moistened between her thighs. Again he whipped her, and a fifth time. Her back was covered with a web of pink marks, stinging as though the flesh were aflame. "Do you know what you did up there, slave?"
Through trembling lips and a red haze of pain she managed to stammer, "yeh - yes, Master. I disrespected you before your guests. I'm sor - sorry, Master. Please - please forgive me. It won't - it won't happen again."
He stalked around her then, a bipedal shark in a dungeon instead of a sea. "I don't think you've truly repented, slave. You need some time at the Post. Get over there." She tried to rise to her feet, but he shoved her with his foot, knocking her painfully to her side on the cement floor. "No, slave. Crawl."
And crawl is exactly what she did. Her bare breasts and belly scraped across the rough cement of the floor, abrading the skin and rubbing her nipples painfully with every slithering motion. She had to part her legs to crawl, and he watched from his vantage point as her vagina winked wetly with her movements.
She crept to one of the metal pillars which supported the house above their heads. But this pillar was different. Attached to the top of it were several lengths of sturdy, shiny chromed chains and two pairs of gleaming shackles. The floor around this pillar was stained with brownish dots and splotches. She had wondered what had caused these stains but hadn't yet found the courage to ask her Master about them. Upon reaching the foot of the metal pole she returned to her penitent posture - on her knees, hands clasped behind her back.
"Get up," he barked. She quickly complied, trying to ignore the sparks of pain as the skin of her back wrinkled with her movements. She stood, facing the pole, and he moved in behind her. He leaned into her back, pressing her against the cold, metallic cylinder. At the touch of his warm body to hers she gasped, and her heart leaped with want for him. Slowly he lowered his head until his mouth was by her ear, and gooseflesh swept up her back as he purred, "the spirit of willful disobedience is within you, slave. I will change that today if I must rip it out of your skin inch by bloody inch!" Then his powerful hands were snapping cold metal bands around her wrists, securing her there.
He stepped away and she saw him out of the corner of her eye as he picked-up a sturdy wooden sawhorse. The crosspiece was padded in black leather and chained shackles dangled from the four legs of the device. Wordlessly he shoved it under her waist, forcing her rump back and out. He latched the shackles around her ankles, the harsh ratcheting sound seeming so loud in the cellar. This spread her legs and exposed her crotch, giving him access to not only the soft cheeks of her ass but also the most intimate openings to her body. Her back was almost parallel to the floor now, and she had to grip the post with her hands to keep from falling forward.
