Vivienne's Domination: Power

Vivienne lounged in her chair, an imposing figure, her eyes cold and calculated as they locked onto Thomas. Her grip on his hand was not gentle or comforting but assertive, a clear demonstration of her power over him. "Thomas," she said, her tone icy and devoid of the earlier tenderness. "I believe it's time for us to have an important discussion."

The softness Thomas had seen in Vivienne's eyes had vanished, replaced by a steely gaze that made him uneasy. "What about, Vivienne?" he queried, his voice wavering, betraying his mounting apprehension.

"I want you to express your true feelings about our relationship," Vivienne articulated, her tone measured. "Are you feeling oppressed, do you regret being drawn into my web?"

Taken aback, Thomas took a moment to compose himself, wrestling with his feelings. Eventually, he found his voice, his tone filled with raw honesty. "Yes, Vivienne," he admitted, "There are moments when I do feel entrapped, and I yearn for the freedom I once had."

Vivienne's icy demeanor didn't falter at his confession. "I understand, Thomas," she replied, devoid of empathy. "It's a common reaction to crave for the freedom you've been denied."

A glimmer of hope ignited within Thomas. Was it possible that Vivienne would ease her ironclad control, give him the freedom he so desperately longed for?

But the glimmer of hope was quickly extinguished as Vivienne erupted into harsh laughter. "Oh, Thomas," she sneered, an unsettling glint in her eyes. "You naive fool. Did you actually believe I would release you from your debt and grant you the freedom you pine for?"

His heart dropped. He had bared his soul, laid his hopes bare, only to be met with Vivienne's mockery.

Her laughter eventually subsided, but her gaze remained cold and unfeeling. "If you even entertain the thought of leaving me, Thomas," she warned, her tone chillingly cruel, "You'll have nothing left, quite literally."

The room seemed to darken as her threat hung in the air. Thomas's eyes widened in fear and disbelief. This woman, for whom he had developed feelings, was now threatening his very existence.

"But, Vivienne," he stuttered, fear creeping into his voice, "You can't expect me to stay with you under such horrendous conditions. It's absolutely not just."

Her cruel smile widened. "Just? My dear Thomas, the concept of fairness has no place here. You accepted my terms, and now you must face the consequences."

Thomas was trapped. If he defied Vivienne, he faced grave consequences. Yet, the desire for freedom kept gnawing at him. "Vivienne," he said, his voice laced with a newfound resolve, "I refuse to be your plaything forever. I'm entitled to my dignity and respect."

Her laughter filled the room once again, the sound echoing off the walls, resonating with her merciless delight. "Dignity? Respect?" she spat out, her voice laced with scorn. "You forfeited those the moment you chose to become indebted to me. Now, your life is in my hands."

With a swift push of a button, Vivienne summoned her security team. Without missing a beat, the door swung open and personnel swiftly filed into the room. One guard approached, cradling a peculiar device that glinted ominously under the room's stark lighting. As he closed in, Vivienne's gaze lingered on Thomas, her eyes dancing with a strange cocktail of amusement and cruel satisfaction. "It's not in my nature to cling to what doesn't rightfully belong to me," she pronounced, her voice low but crystal clear in the oppressive silence.

Vivienne paused, her attention momentarily shifting to a contract sprawled on the table. "However," she said, her tone steady yet chilling, "since it's you, Thomas, I'm inclined to make an exception."

Thomas, his face pale with fear, looked at her in utter confusion. "What... what do you mean?" he stuttered, his voice a barely audible tremor.

Her eyes, as cold as a winter's night, met his. "What I mean, dear Thomas," she began, slowly picking up the device, "is that I'm prepared to release you." She held the device up, allowing Thomas a full view. "This," she explained with an eerie calmness, "is a castration device."

Thomas paled even further, his eyes growing wide with horror as the true nature of the device dawned on him. Vivienne continued, her words ice-cold and merciless, "I'm willing to consider your debt to me as paid in full. However, your departure will come at a cost. Your testicles and dick will stay with me," she said, tapping the contract with a pointed finger.

A gasp escaped Thomas's lips. "Vivienne... you can't be serious..." he stammered, his eyes reflecting the terror that had gripped his soul.

Before he could react further, the guards lunged at him, holding him down and swiftly pulling down his pants. Vivienne, unfazed by the scene unfolding before her, responded with a bone-chilling smile.

With deliberate slowness, she positioned the device around his private parts, her movements meticulously precise. "I assure you, Thomas," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, but carrying a threat as severe as a winter storm. "I've never been more serious. It's your decision now. Do you truly wish to leave?"

Caught in the dreadful reality unfolding before him, Thomas stammered, "No... I... I'll stay." The words barely left his lips before they were swallowed by the silence of the room. "I love you, Vivienne."

Vivienne's smile widened as she removed the device from his genitals, her touch as cold as the device itself. "Of course, you will, Thomas," she murmured, her tone deceptively sweet amidst the chilling situation. "Of course, you will."

With a casual flick of her hand, Vivienne dismissed the security personnel. The room quickly emptied, leaving just her and Thomas. "Now, Thomas, would you be a dear and fetch me a whisky and a cigar?" She asked, her voice laced with authority.

"Of course, Vivienne," he responded, his voice subdued. He left to fulfill her request, his mind racing. When he returned with her drink and cigar, he found her reclined in her chair, her legs casually spread apart. His heart pounded in his chest as he understood exactly what she desired.

There was no need for words. He carefully set down the whisky and the cigar on the table beside her, his gaze locked with hers. As she opened her legs he knelt between them as a perfect choreography, a silent acceptance of his submission and her dominance. Vivienne watched him, a sly smile playing on her lips, as she sipped her whisky and lit her cigar, content with the turn of events.

As Thomas knelt between her open legs, Vivienne sipped her whisky and puffed on her cigar. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes watching Thomas with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

"Thomas," she began, her voice smooth like velvet. "Do you realize how fortunate I am? Life has been exceptionally kind to me." She took another sip of her whisky, the amber liquid glowing in the dim light.

Thomas continued his ministrations, his attention focused solely on pleasing her. His answer was muffled, but the intent clear. He was there for her, to serve her.

Vivienne chuckled, a low throaty sound that echoed in the silent room. "You see, Thomas," she continued, her eyes half-closed in pleasure, "I have everything a man" she laughed", yes I said man, could ever want. Wealth, power, respect. And," she paused, looking down at Thomas, "the devoted service of a man like you."

She took a puff from her cigar, the smoke curling up and disappearing into the air. "Every whim of mine is catered to, every desire fulfilled. I hold the strings and everyone dances to my tunes. It's intoxicating, the power I wield."

Her gaze remained fixed on Thomas as she spoke, her words punctuated by his skilled attentions. "And you, Thomas," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "You are a vital part of this grand life of mine. Your submission, your devotion, it's... exquisite."

Vivienne took a moment to relish the sensation, her breath hitching as Thomas's efforts redoubled. She took another sip of her whisky, the fiery liquid warming her from within. "Yes, life is truly amazing, Thomas. And it's all the more wonderful with you by my side."

Her words hung in the air, a testament to the power dynamic between them. Even as Thomas served her, Vivienne acknowledged his role, his importance in her life. It was a twisted form of appreciation, a nod to his sacrifice and submission.

Vivienne's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she decided to take things a step further. "Life, my dear Thomas, is full of surprises. You will see."

As she started to relieve herself, Thomas was taken aback. But when he saw her hand getting on his head. He realised that he didn't have much choice, but to open his mouth and swallow her pee. It was clear to him that Vivienne was in control, that she could do whatever she wanted, and he was there to fulfill her desires.

"Isn't it amazing, Thomas?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of arrogance. "To know that I can do anything, that I can control every aspect of our lives together?"

She paused, taking a sip of her whisky and puffing on her cigar. "You see, I can indulge in my desires, my fantasies, and you... you just follow along. It's all so... liberating."

The power dynamics of their relationship had never been clearer. Vivienne was in control, and Thomas was there to serve her, no matter what. It was a potent reminder of the extent of her control and the depths of his submission.

As Thomas carefully cleaned Vivienne and continued pleasuring her, she took another sip of her whiskey, a contented smile gracing her lips. The cigar smoke swirled around them, adding to the ambiance of the moment.

"You know, Thomas," she said thoughtfully, "I never get tired of this. There's something truly intoxicating about having someone so devoted to fulfilling my every desire. And you, my dear, are an expert in that department."

As she spoke, she let out a soft moan of pleasure, the sensations from Thomas's continued efforts washing over her. "Yes, just like that," she encouraged him, her voice breathy.

Thomas halted his actions, looking up at Vivienne with a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "I,..." he started, but before he could utter another word, Vivienne's hand connected with his cheek with a force that took his breath away. The cigar broke against his face, scattering ash and ember.

"You will speak when spoken to," Vivienne commanded coldly, her voice cutting through the shock that followed the slap. Her grip tightened in his hair, yanking him back into position. She moved with a grace that contrasted her violent act, cutting what remained of the cigar and lighting it once more.

As Thomas steadied himself and returned to his duties, Vivienne took a long drag from her cigar, the smoke curling around her face before being slowly exhaled. "Thomas," she began again, her voice steady and cool, "you've become my bitch."

Her words hung in the air, leaving no room for denial or misinterpretation. "You exist to serve my needs, to fulfill my desires, to obey my commands. You've surrendered your autonomy, your dignity, your voice. You are mine, in every sense of the word."

She paused, taking another puff from her cigar, the embers glowing menacingly in the dim light. "And you know what, Thomas?" she continued, her gaze unflinching, "I think it suits you. I've merely provided you with the structure you crave."

As Vivienne's words washed over him, Vivienne began recounting how cows are marked by their owners with a brand of hot metal, she grew increasingly aroused by the idea. Her grip on Thomas's head tightened as she ground herself against his face, lost in the throes of lust.

"Suck, bitch," she commanded, her voice thick with desire. "Lick it, slave. Take it all." Her words were interspersed with moans and gasps as pleasure washed over her, culminating in a powerful climax that left her breathless and Thomas gasping for air.

After what felt like an eternity to Thomas, as he thought he was going to drown, Vivienne finally released her grip on his head. They both took a moment to catch their breaths, the room filled with the heavy scent of their shared pleasure.

As Vivienne regained her composure, she looked at Thomas with a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I have a metal rod in that drawer, bring it to me," she ordered, her voice laced with a sense of anticipation. "It's time for me to mark on you, your commitment to me."

Thomas's heart pounded in his chest as he retrieved the metal rod, the weight of his decision sinking in. He knew that this was a point of no return, a clear line being drawn in their relationship. Yet, despite the fear that gnawed at him, he found a strange sense of calm in his decision. He was choosing this path, he was choosing Vivienne, he was choosing his submission.

As he handed the rod to Vivienne, he met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. Vivienne's voice was stern and commanding as she instructed Thomas to stand still. "If you move, this will be the most painful experience of your life," she warned him, her hand tightly gripping a metal rod. One end of the rod was fashioned into the shape of a letter 'V'. With a wicked smile, she ignited her cigar lighter and began to heat the rod, the metal gradually turning a glowing red under the intense heat.

As the rod heated up, Vivienne explained to Thomas what was about to transpire. "This is a branding iron," she said, her voice echoing in the tense silence of the room. "Once I mark you with this, you will forever bear the mark of my ownership. Is that what you want, Thomas? Or would you rather leave now?"

Thomas's eyes widened, a surge of fear and anticipation rushing through him. He glanced at the glowing brand and then back at Vivienne's expectant face. After a moment of hesitation, he swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Please brand me as your property."

At his words, Vivienne's wicked smile broadened. "Then lower your pants and underwear," she ordered. Thomas's heart pounded in his chest as he obeyed, the fear of the impending pain momentarily overshadowing his desire to submit to Vivienne. He was terrified that she might accidentally burn his genitals, but she looked at him and said, "So..?"

As he obeyed without hesitation Vivienne wasted no time. She pressed the red-hot brand into Thomas's hairless pubic area. He clenched his teeth, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the searing pain shot through him. But he didn't move, he didn't flinch. He stood there, taking it all in, proving his submission to Vivienne.

After what felt like an eternity, Vivienne removed the brand and placed it on the table. She looked at Thomas, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Go clean yourself up," she commanded. "And remember, you should feel honored to bear my mark."

With a shaky nod, Thomas thanked her and quickly left to clean himself up. His mind was spinning from the intense pain and the rush of emotions, but one thing was clear to him - he was now, and forever would be, Vivienne's property.

As Thomas made his way out of the room, he felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. His heart pounded in his chest as the lingering heat from the brand seared into his skin. He felt a shiver run down his spine, a mix of shock, pain, and a strange sense of relief.

In the privacy of the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from the tears he had been holding back. The brand on his pubic area was a stark reminder of the situation he had "willingly" submitted himself to.

His mind was a tumult of thoughts and emotions. He felt a deep sense of regret and loss, coupled with a strange sense of relief. He thought about Vivienne's words, her laughter, her cruel delight in his submission. He felt a pang of anger and betrayal, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wave of helplessness. He had surrendered his autonomy to Vivienne, and now he was trapped in a situation that he could not escape from.

As he carefully cleaned his wound, he felt a sickening sense of dread. He knew that he had crossed a line, that there was no turning back. He had become Vivienne's property, marked and owned. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, and he allowed himself to cry, the tears washing away the last remnants of his dignity.

From the comfort of her room, Vivienne indulged in the sight of Thomas's distress on her TV screen, savoring the last drops of her whiskey and puffing on her cigar. His crying stirred again an irrisisteble arousal within her, and she found herself yearning for more.

Rising from her chair, she sauntered towards Thomas's room, anticipation quickening her steps. As she entered the room, she found Thomas still weeping, his vulnerability tugging at her dark desires. She addressed him, her voice dripping with promise and power, "Thomas, you've been such a devoted servant that I think it's time for you to find release."

His eyes widened in surprise, a spark of hope igniting within him. It had been weeks since he'd been allowed to experience the pleasure of release, and the prospect made his body react with an immediate intent of an erection that got frustrated by his cock cage. Vivienne, untying her robe, revealed her body to him. Her hand reached for the key around her neck and released him from the cock cage that unleashed a massive erection but at same time removed the bandage covering his fresh wound, her fingers delicately tracing the edges. "There's just one condition," she said, her eyes twinkling with wicked delight. "The bandage needs to come off."

Thomas, comprehending the extent of Vivienne's demand, felt a shudder of apprehension ripple through him. The mere anticipation of the friction from her bush against his searing wound was enough to provoke an acute dread, an intuitive reaction to the prospect of pain. However, intertwined with that dread was a perverse thrill, a morbid curiosity that stemmed from the possibility of deriving pleasure from the pain. It was a cruel, yet undeniably arousing paradox that he found himself trapped in.

Resignation settled within him, a tacit acceptance that there was no room for refusal. He removed the bandage, exposing the raw, tender flesh of his freshly branded wound. The sight was a stark reminder of his subservience, a symbol of his surrender to Vivienne's will. Yet, even in the face of such grim reality, his body betrayed his mind, responding with a primal urgency that he found both disturbing and exciting.

As he initiated their intimate encounter, the sensations were overwhelming. Each thrust ignited a spark of pain as his wound came into contact with her bush, a stark contrast to the pleasure he derived from their union. It was an excruciating, yet oddly satisfying experience. The pain acted as a perverse stimulant, intensifying the pleasure and pushing him closer to the edge.

Vivienne, caught in the throes of her own growing desire, seized control of their rhythm. Her hands found purchase on his buttocks, her fingers digging into the flesh with a possessive urgency. She pulled him closer, slamming him into her with a force that amplified the painful contact of her bush against his wound.

Her voice, husky and commanding, echoed in his ears. "Harder, Thomas," she panted, her eyes gleaming with a mix of malice and ecstasy. "Make me feel every inch of you." Her words were as sharp as a whip, urging him to push past the pain, to derive pleasure from their coupling despite the raw sting of his wound.

As their rhythm escalated, so did her demands. "Don't you dare stop," she warned, her grip tightening on his ass. Her legs wrapped around him, anchoring him to her as she rode the wave of pleasure building within her. "You're mine, Thomas. Now prove it," she taunted, a wicked smile curving her lips.