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Posts Tagged ‘punishment’

Need

need / nēd
verb
verb: need; 3rd person present: needs; past tense: needed; past participle: needed; gerund or present participle: needing; modal verb: need
  1. 1.
    require (something) because it is essential or very important. “I need help now”
    not want to be subjected to something. “I don’t need your sarcasm”
  2. 2.
    expressing necessity or obligation. “need I say more?”
  3. 3.
    archaic be necessary. “lest you, even more than needs, embitter our parting”
noun
noun: need; plural noun: needs
  1. 1.
    circumstances in which something is necessary, or that require some course of action; necessity. “the basic human need for food”
  2. 2.
    a thing that is required. “his day-to-day needs”

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    “I want you to hold me, to hurt me, and to comfort me when you are done.”

    That is what I told Him today. I lied. I don’t want it, I need it.

    Just as He needs to give a beating, I need to take one.

    I need to be spanked or flogged or beaten, maybe all three, maybe more.

    I need to feel pain beyond the pleasure, until it subsides and sends me off into peaceful subspace.

    I need my brain to shut down, to reset itself.

    I need to fight and cry and scream.

    I need to release what has built up, what I have held on to for far too long.

    I need to be punished, for something, I don’t even know what.

    I can’t do it myself.

    I try, but there is only so much one can inflict on oneself before self preservation kicks in and it stops.

    I can’t hurt myself the way I need to be hurt.

    I can’t cause the pain that needs to be felt.

    I can’t let go without being forced to, without knowing there will be comfort once I do.

    I can’t explain it, rationalize it.

    I just know, innately, this is something that I need.

    I don’t want you to hold me, to hurt me, or to comfort me when you are done.

    I need you to.

    I need you to hold me.

    I need you to hurt me, to bring tears, to have me beg.

    I need you to comfort me, to make a safe space for me.

    I need you to make me do what I can not do myself.

    I don’t want you to.

    I need you to.

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The second quarter of The Game, a side story born from the Life With Victor (LWV) series. You can catch up here if you have not been following along.


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Holy fuck! Where is Victor? What has this monster done with him? Victor? VICTOR! I cry out in panic, panic and hopes that he will come save me like he always does. Maybe he wasn’t even home. Maybe he will walk through the door any second. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully. VICTOR! VICTOR!

Panic. Who is this guy, and what does he want with me? Is he going to kill me? No, I am not going to die, I am going to fight. I may not be big and strong but I’ll fight as hard as I can to save myself. I kick and wail out at him, I can tell I am getting him good by the groans he lets out. His groans, they seem familiar. It must be somebody I know or have met somewhere. More kicking and hitting as he tries to tie me up. I can’t let him do that. I’ll be dead, or worse, if he gets me tied up and unable to fight.

Oh no, he’s got me bound and is throwing me over his shoulder. There is something familiar about him. I can’t put my finger on it. He’s carrying me somewhere now. Where is he taking me? I can’t tell with tall the turning here and there. Did we leave the house? No, he couldn’t get me out a door without me noticing. I could be right back in the same spot I started for all I know. I keep trying to get free but all I am doing is tiring myself out. This is much harder when you are fighting for real versus playing like we do. There is always a stop point, a play point, a take what you want while I pretend it isn’t actually what I want point. That isn’t going to happen here.

He throws me down onto something soft. Cushions? The sofa maybe. No, I don’t feel the ends or the back, it isn’t the sofa. Bed? No, I am sure he didn’t carry me upstairs. Where has he taken me? I hear something, a zipper. A ZIPPER! No. No. NO! NO!

I know what’s coming. Hearing a zipper being pulled down can only mean one thing, I am going to be raped by this monster in my own home. Why isn’t Victor here, where is he? If I had made it home on time this wouldn’t be happening. Or would it? Something, I don’t know what, is gnawing away at my brain. That sense of familiarity. Before I can process that thought, my legs are pushed apart and my panties pulled and torn clean off me. I scream as they dig in before giving way and ripping apart.

I pull my legs up and press them tightly together, trying to cover myself as best I can, trying to shield myself from him. It does not help as he is much stronger than me. He grabs my legs again, forcing them down and apart. He moves in closer and I feel him pressed against me. I thrash and try to kick him away.

Stop fighting Little Whore!

I stop and become instantly still, even my breath is held. I cock my head slightly, straining to hear every little sound. Did I hear that right? I couldn’t have, could I? Now that sense of familiarity I was having has become suddenly quite clear. The sound of his groans. The way he threw me over his shoulder. It has to be. I sense him become still as well and I am certain. He has given himself away. It is Victor.

But why is he doing this? We have never played rape or abduction scenes, barely even discussed them. I am at a loss.

Victor? Victor? Is that you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tasha put up one hell of a fight. It was frustrating and damn hot at the same time. Now that she has been subdued I can finally get down to the business at hand, teaching her to obey the rules, to obey me. Unzipping the bag I watch her shudder at the sound and cry out in terror. Her screams, muffled under the hood, are an unexpected bonus.

I take out one of her favorite toys, the life like cock. It feels so real in my hand I begin to have second thoughts about continuing. No, this is what needs to be done, to remind her that I own her, that every inch of her is mine. I push her legs apart and pull down her underwear. I have a strict rule that she is supposed to take them off when she enters the house. This violation will be remedied right now. I hear her scream and the material digs in before it is ripped apart. I am a little bit disappointed to destroy that pair, they were a favorite to have her walk around in when I had guests. Oh well, rules will be followed no matter the cost.

I force her legs apart and get into position, I know she is still clueless as to who has her trapped as I push the toy against her pussy’s opening. She thrashes around making this harder. I am amazed she is fighting so until I suddenly realize, she thinks this is the real deal and I am a rapist. I had been sitting here planning it, mulling it over in my head, all day. I know what I am doing but she hasn’t been filled in on it yet, she thinks I am a rapist about to take her by force. My cock responds instantly to that thought by demanding a release in the excitement. I know I can’t, she would know it was me in an instant. I want to torment her for a while longer.

She continues kicking at me and I can’t quite get her under control. Stop fighting Little Whore!

I realize immediately what I have done. Tasha suddenly stops fighting, her stillness is unnerving. Has she figured it out? Did I betray myself in this sinister plan? She calls out to me. Damn!

None the less, I will continue this a while more. My cock is demanding its payment for being so patient with her and for having been made to wait as I have. It has been in constant arousal since I started forming this plan. We had discussed a forced scene only briefly quite a while back. I wanted to do it then but I knew she wasn’t ready. I also knew it could be a great learning tool at some point. This was that point.

A car door slams outside and the next part of my plan goes into effect. I have been quite clever with this and had set up a friend to help. I leave her bound and get up, running away as if I am an intruder about to flee. The sound of the front door opening has all been arranged.

Who are you? I bark, at the “intruder”.

The sound of an ensuing scuffle breaks out, then a thud as I let myself fall to the floor. The ropes are fashioned just as they have been in the past. Yes, I know my attacker and his hands are no stranger to me. I momentarily reminisce as I am dragged into the room and dropped next to Tasha. I look over at her as her hood is removed. The mask is no longer over my face and she gasps at seeing me bound beside her.

My former master and long time friend is knelt over me, his face now masked, with a blade at my throat. So you try to come play the hero, his voice sounding all husky and evil. It is a role he plays particularly well. I was just about to enjoy your little tart here, but now that you’ve decided to make your way home and interrupt my pleasure, I think it better she should watch and see what will become her fate.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
~ Pablo Neruda



Note: I would like to give a special thanks to Lord Raven for giving voice to Victor again this week.

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The first piece of The Game, a side story that continues from the Life With Victor (LWV) series. You can catch up here if you have not been following along.

 

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She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. Memories can be beautiful things sometimes. To have them come flooding back just by acknowledging the tiny trinket box in her possession was wonderful after the past couple of months. It was nice to genuinely smile again. It was like hearing a song and being transported back to that eighth grade dance with John Critchner holding her tight and grabbing her ass. It seemed so risqué at the time. If she had only known how risqué things would get, and how she would love them that way.

Another smile as Tasha thinks about her husband, then fading as she thinks about how upset he is going to be with her for being late again. It just couldn’t be helped. The company wasn’t doing well, there were a lot of people being let go and getting all their packages together was a long and tedious process. Gerry constantly changing days on her was not helping matters. She knows he doesn’t want to let people go but he really has no choice, he will lose his company if he doesn’t. All she can do is push him and then do everything over again when he doesn’t do what he is supposed to when he is supposed to do it. She is beginning to think it would be better to fly out to Chicago and do the lay-offs herself. That definitely wouldn’t go over well with Victor.

She was surprised he hadn’t said anything yet. It wasn’t like him. He would never put up with her being at the office so much without a reprimand of some sort. She had learned long ago that there were consequences to everything. Maybe he was still being nice because of what happened during their trip. Tasha decided she would talk with him that night, tell him to stop being so overly forgiving, overly considerate, and get back to being his sadist self. She wants him to play with her, to use her, to make her his little whore. She needs him to. She just needs him.

Tasha finally arrives home, two hours late. No lights. He’s not home.

She wonders where he could be at this hour. He is always home for dinner, unless she is meeting him somewhere. Was she supposed to meet him somewhere? Did she forget? She checks her phone. Oh no, where is it? She must have left it in her desk. Damn it, she thought, just what I need. Hmmm, maybe it is just what she needs. Victor will surely have something to say about it when he gets home, and what if she was supposed to meet him, that would anger him even more. Damn it! Where is the goddamn phone? And where is Victor?

She looks around but there is no note, nothing. Into the kitchen, nothing there either. No dinner cooking. No note. No Victor. She may as well put her coat away, go upstairs and draw a bath, she thought. She wants to relax and unwind a bit, if she can, before he returns. It’s been too long a day already and she is sure it won’t be any easier when he gets back from wherever he went. Whether it’s just her being late or the addition of her forgetting something, there is no question he is going to be upset, and rightly so. She knows the rules and deserves whatever punishment he sees fit.

No use dwelling on it now. She will just get all worked up and make things worse, if that’s at all possible. She is prone to such things. If there’s a way to fuck something up she will surely find it. Sometimes it’s the wrong word or a questioning look. She should never question him, his actions, or his motives. Whatever he sees fit is the way it is. She is just his little whore.

She can’t postpone the inevitable by not doing anything now. If she just sits there waiting, the minutes, though passing in exactly the same time they always do, will feel like hours and she will drive herself mad. She opens the closet door to find a stranger behind it. Before it fully registers, he has her pushed up against the wall. Not even a scream escapes her lips. What is he going to do to her? Oh my god, she thinks, what has he done to Victor?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alone, in a room is as dark as my mood, I wait. Tasha is late again and this is becoming the norm. I think she needs a not so gentle reminder of what time she is supposed to be home. The sweet feel of the leather in my hand, soothing in its softness, will not feel nearly as sweet to her as it lands across her bare flesh. She must pay the price for her inconsiderate tardiness so she will learn, so she will follow and respect the rules.

Headlights flash across the curtain. It’s about time. Just a few more minutes now. Putting the mask on, I lean further back into the darkness and wait.

The keys in the door announce her arrival, two hours late. There is no excuse for this, I am fuming. Tasha will learn what it means to be in MY service. She walks right by me and turns on the hall light, not at all aware of me waiting behind the closet door. I do one last look at my phone and see that the last message never went. Still, things are already in motion and she should have let me know she was going to be late again. I have been too lenient as of late but that is about to change.

I watch from the crack of the door as she walks around looking dejected, thinking I am not here. She takes off her coat and walks to the closet to hang it up. She opens the door and freezes. In that moment I grab her and push her to the wall. So, you’re the one Vic has been talking about, his precious one. Nice to see he has great taste, I will enjoy this. My voice disguised as much as possible.

I savor the look of panic and fear but a moment before I pull the hood over her face. She fights like a wild cat, screaming my name all the while. I realize I have made the illusion complete. Claws and kicks find their mark and threaten to do bodily harm. It takes a bit to immobilize her, the rope is not as easy to use as I was expecting. A willing partner is much easier to bind than an unwilling one.

Finally she is tied, hand and foot, and her body is now much easier to control as I toss her over my shoulder. I carry her around the house, turning this way and that. I make sure she has no idea where we are or what is happening. Her struggles make it a challenge as the rush of what is coming next turns my cock into a raging hard on. That must wait for now. I finally reach my destination and toss Tasha onto the prepared cushions. I just let her lay there for the moment, knowing her mind is racing in a world of confusion.


Note: I would like to give a special thanks to Lord Raven for giving Victor his voice. Stay tuned, we will hear more from him in the coming weeks.

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