The Cruelty is the Point

This story involves "consensual non-consent" between a loving couple. Please do not read if such topics may be disturbing for you.

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My master called me into the living room. Thomas doesn't care for the term "master", as he feels it's trite performative. He prefers simply, "owner". I had been puttering around in the kitchen and tossed the dishtowel I was using over my shoulder. The clean white linen contrasted nicely with my flowing black hair, and I cocked a hip once I was standing before him in his chair. We were enjoying a lazy afternoon and I thought he was about to continue the witty banter which is typical between us.

"Remind me... When was the last time I gave it to you really rough?"

That caught me unprepared. "Uh..."

"The last time I really I forced you. Took you cruelly and used you like a whore. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

My composure nearly broke right there, but I hesitated only briefly. "Um, well, it depends..."

Thomas waved this away. "Well sure, but it's not important to define it precisely. What is important is that we keep things regular. I mean, you shouldn't go too long without being reminded of your place. Don't you agree?"

He had me there.

I tried and failed to smile with relaxed confidence. "Thomas, I'm not sure that it's really necessary."

He again dismissed my objection, this time with a trace of impatience. "Oh come on, I can't even remember the last time. Don't you think you're due?"

Actually I could remember. It was still fresh in my mind and filled me with dread and excitement. Of course, he didn't really 'force' me. Rather, it was that 'consensual / non-consent' thing people like Dan Savage talk about. Thomas and I hadn't discussed this in academic terms. It was just something we did naturally and we both knew I needed it.

"Also, I don't think you've had any serious nipple pain in quite a while." He sounded truly concerned, as if we were discussing my cholesterol levels.

Oh, god. He was really going to let me have it. Thomas was leering at me now, clearly enjoying my alarm at what was coming. I couldn't think of a way to deny it had been some time since he abused my nipples, though I could remember every second of the ordeal.

"Yes, sir."

"Well all right then, let's do it tonight. I'm thinking 5:30, before dinner. Or would you rather it was afterward?"

This was part of it for us -- Thomas politely involving me in the details of my own debasement. While it would be a relief to go straight to bed afterward, I knew I would hold up better earlier. And I would have dinner to look forward to. If I was allowed to eat, that is.

"Before, please."

"5:30 it is," he said with a kind smile. But then his faced turned dark and he said, "Remind me five minutes prior."

"Yes, Thomas."

With that, he went back to his book. It was just after 1 PM, which meant I had hours of anxious anticipation. I set an alarm in my phone and tried to concentrate on working in the kitchen, but instead my mind raced with fear. Which was exactly how my owner wanted it. Thomas was going to thoroughly enjoy this. He loved inflicting pain on my nipples, and I can't really blame him because they are kind of asking for it. I have those thick, gumdrop-type nipples men love to squeeze. Paired with my slender frame and B-cups, they are my most prominent feature when naked. They are also directly connected to my crotch, as Thomas discovered early on.

While he often squeezes them during our regular encounters, enough to elicit my pained squeals, he feels it's important to give my nipples special treatment every so often. This usually involves me crying and then begging for mercy and orgasms. Neither is typically granted.

Thomas also loved using me sexually with utter selfishness. He would fuck me hard, which I could take and enjoyed, though it hurt (in that good way). But he would also assume a stony demeanor, making me believe he truly didn't care if it hurt physically or emotionally. I had to keep my legs spread wide, denying him no part of me, and I wouldn't be allowed to look him in the eye. Of course, no orgasms for me, despite the fact that this sort of thing can make me cum in twenty seconds flat. There was only a small area of my brain that acknowledged this was a safe part of our play and he knew it, the bastard. He felt no compunctions at all using me this way, no guilt at the unfairness and cruelty. That was the whole point, really. No other relationship partner had been able to do this for me the way Thomas could, and I loved madly him for it.

But for now, all I could do was wait. As with many things in the BDSM world, the anticipation counts for a lot. And I have to admire the artfulness Thomas brings to our relationship. He manages to make it sound as if he's doing me a favor by keeping my abuse consistent. Even making me agree that debasing and humiliating me is, in the end, what's in my best interest. Plus the humiliation of being made an accomplice to my own disgrace -- reminding him when it's time, indeed! It's really quite impressive. And it's what I signed up for. I smiled to myself as I dried the dishes, despite the ordeal I knew was coming. Or, if I was being honest with myself, because of it.

My stomach was knotted for the next few hours, my nipples hard and ready. At one point Thomas kissed me sweetly while I made meal preparations. An outsider would have seen an ordinary, loving couple having a quiet weekend. I liked thinking of us that way too, but I really loved knowing what a demon Thomas would turn into later. Cold and cruel, determined to get what he wanted from me.

The last thirty minutes were the worst. Thomas was on the couch, having resumed reading after a shower. I thought about making an excuse to leave suddenly -- perhaps a feigned work emergency. But I knew such a stunt would only make it worse. This was happening.

The beeping phone made my stomach lurch. Taking a moment to compose myself and brush back my hair, I went to Thomas. Kneeling at his feet, I waited to be acknowledged. He kept me there just long enough to finish the page he was on.

"Yes?"

"It's um... It's time."

Thomas regarded me coolly. "Time for what?"

He was going to make me say it. I hung my head in shame, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But Thomas took my chin in his hand and jerked my face up. "Time for what?" he repeated, menacingly.

"It's time for you to use me, sir."

"Use and abuse you." With that, he lifted my shirt and grasped my nipples. "I think we'll start here."

No warm up, no time to adjust! Thomas watched me closely as he began to squeeze. I knew what he was capable of, and he didn't use his full grip strength at first. But believe me, it was enough. The pain made me slump in shock, simultaneously causing panic and extreme arousal. It's just how I'm wired.

Thomas watched and when he saw I had momentarily coped with the pain, squeezed harder. I cried out, my hair whipping around, and begged him to stop. In response, he issued a challenge. "I'll back off a little if you can give me a nice, sweet kiss." It took tremendous force of will since I fought against the urge to kiss him, both from the pain and out of a dramatic sense of injustice. It was nearly impossible to concentrate, but that also made me try harder. It burned me to have to kiss this man who was putting me to torture. Of course, this sort of warped conflict is what I enjoy the most. Again, it's just how I'm wired.

So I humiliated myself by affectionately kissing Thomas, though he seemed unimpressed. But after a moment he did take some pressure off my poor nipples. That only made me perversely grateful and I kissed him harder. "All right, all right," Thomas said, pushing me back. "That's enough. I'm not your prom date."

But he wasn't done. Thomas had me put my hands behind my back and explained I would have to take three rounds of one minute each. Moving my hands would add time. I composed myself as best I could and knelt up tall, presenting my breasts to him. He squeezed again and this time I swear I saw stars. That minute might as well have been an hour. When Thomas released me I slumped onto the couch next to him and sobbed. He petted my hair gently and I allowed myself to think he might take pity on me. Wrong. "Two more to go."

For round two Thomas required me to carry on a conversation. While he squeezed my nipples as cruelly as possible, I had to answer questions. It was mostly an exercise in self-degradation.

"Yes, I'm your fuck toy!"

"It's your right to use me however you want!"

The bastard even made me tell him I loved him during my torture. I didn't hesitate. "Yes! Of course I love you, Thomas! I'm your good girl! I love you!"

Naturally, this sort of thing makes me associate pain with love. Which is why at moments like this I would agree to almost anything. We both know it's twisted, but it's my favorite form of intimacy. I'd much rather have that than a piece of jewelry.

The third time I had to just look Thomas in the eye. He squeezed, and I stared. I tried to focus on how much I loved him and hoped my stamina was impressing him. I knew this would leave my nipples sore for at least a day after, which I loved. But it was almost too much. Only my intense desire to not disappoint Thomas kept me from tapping out. When he finally released me I collapsed on the floor and was grateful I had urinated earlier -- I might have lost all control and caused the sort of mess we don't find sexy.

Was there any sympathy for me after enduring this? Get real. Thomas ordered me to stand up, but I decided to emote. "You're so cruel!" I cried, dramatically. "Can't you even spare a kind word for me after that?"

Thomas sneered. "The cruelty is the whole point." He whacked me a hard one on the ass, which brought me to my feet in a hurry.

"Fashion show," he demanded. "Back here in two minutes."

I knew the drill. My task was to gather several outfits, enough for at least three changes of clothes, which I would model for Thomas. At least there wasn't an audience, as on other occasions. Getting naked and being put through your paces in front of a group of friends isn't for the faint of heart.

In short order I had staged a few outfits in the bedroom and returned to the living room. I was "dressed" as a maid. That's in quotes because there wasn't much to the little ensemble. White stockings and a frilly, tiny dress designed to expose pretty much everything I have.

Thomas watched stonily as I postured before him. I had had a waxing appointment a few days before, so my smooth pussy was on display if the dress crept even an inch upward. I leaned over, letting him look down my cleavage. Taking the dress in his hands, Thomas shifted it and got the reaction he clearly hoped for -- I winced as the fabric raked across my sore nipples. Then he had me hold a pose while he took some photos with his phone. They would surely be shared with several friends.

But again, I was lucky. The last time I wore my maid dress his friends were there watching. I was soon naked and spreading my legs lewdly for them, which was utterly humiliating. It also made me wet as hell. Indeed, I was completely aroused now too, which Thomas could easily see. He reached between my legs to gauge just how turned on I was, eliciting a moan. Slapping my ass again, I was sent to change into my next outfit. Pulling on a tiny apron, I idly wondered when I would next be demonstrated for Thomas' friends.

Thomas liked seeing me cook and bake, sometimes naked, other times wearing very little like this apron. We had acquired a few and he greatly enjoyed savaging me while I wore them. Posing for the camera again I reflected on how I was sometimes required to go into "doll mode" while apron clad. This had me holding whatever position Thomas put me in, no moving, no talking, eyes straight ahead. He would place me on my knees to suck his cock, then fuck me on all fours, often with a camera pointed at my expressionless face. Afterward, he enjoyed watching to see if he had fucked me rough enough make me break character.

Recently when we enacted this scene I was on my back, knees up and legs spread in my frilly apron. Thomas was on top, fucking me mercilessly, and my problem was keeping quiet when a huge orgasm took me (on that rare occasion I had permission, as long as I was silent). It was a bit like trying to stifle a sneeze and I was afraid I might hurt myself. Thomas surely knew and it soon sent him into an intense climax of his own. I longed to throw my arms around his neck and encourage him, plead with him to fill up my little pussy. But all I could do was keep still and quiet like a good little fuck doll, while my owner used me.

A couple more costume changes later I came to a black body stocking. It's soft, but very tight and slinky. It covers me completely from the neck down like footie pajamas, but with one very strategically located opening. Thomas gets aggressive when he fucks me in this outfit. He says it's because he can't touch my bare skin and it sort of makes him angry. So he takes it out on the only part of me he can touch. When I came out wearing it he glared at me the way a lion looks at a limping gazelle.

Although I'm one of those girls who gets turned on when a camera is pointed at me, Thomas has a way of making me feel shy. After a few basic poses, he directed me to open the crotch material and spread my legs wide. This lewdly displayed my pussy and made me feel incredibly exposed and slutty. Again, I knew Thomas would show these photos to friends.

Soon, Thomas forgot about taking photos and seized me around the waist. His kiss was rough and demanding and I moaned into his mouth. I couldn't wait for him to fuck me, but I had forgotten this session wasn't just about sex. It was about punishing me. For what? Nothing in particular. It's Thomas' prerogative to punish me for any reason, or none at all. Today was about reminding me of that fact to keep me in line. The thought of it engaged my submissiveness deeply and made me feel warm and safe. Just one problem: punishment hurts.

Thomas was certainly going to fuck me rough. To do that, he would need to disrobe and in the course of doing so he would take off his belt. And when a man who owns a submissive girl has a belt in his hand... it usually doesn't go well for the girl.

My body stocking already had Thomas feeling aggressive, on top of his original determination to put me to some rough treatment. So when he ordered me onto hands and knees I knew I was in for another ordeal. Often, when Thomas beats me he starts slow, talking and taunting as he builds up the intensity. None of that this time. Making sure I knew it was coming, he drew back and delivered a hard strike to my proffered ass. Once again, the pain made me see stars. But Thomas gave me no time to process. He was intent on teaching me a lesson and began raining blows onto my ass.

The lesson I was being taught was simply that Thomas could beat and abuse me any time and for any reason, and I fucking loved it. It again touched me in the core of my submissive nature. It didn't make it any easier to endure the pain of the belt, but there was nowhere else I would rather have been.

Part of the sublime satisfaction was that Thomas was seeing me suffer and endure it for him. Submitting was my love language. Every time the belt fell on my ass I was showing Thomas I loved him and would bear it for him. This is what happens when I go into "sub space". Those who have also been there will know what I mean.

I'm not sure how long it went, but Thomas really gave it his all with the belt. Sweating and panting, he finally cast it aside and threw me on my back. "Spread your legs like a good little bitch", he growled. In normal life I never want to be called that. But when we're playing, calling me names is one of my strongest triggers. I wanted nothing more than to be the best little bitch I could be for him. My legs immediately went up and back as wide as they could go.

I couldn't wait for Thomas to take me and I didn't have to wait long. But he did have one more micro-humiliation in store. Looming over me, he demanded with an arrogant sneer, "Put it in!" He liked making me take his cock and guide it into my pussy, again enlisting my help in my own debasement. When I hesitated, he slapped me across the face. I had been hoping for that, and it allowed me to wallow in self pity as I placed Thomas' raging hard cock at my wet hole.

Then it was off to the races. No build up, no easing me into it. Thomas simply took me and used me. He was determined to get what he wanted and I made sure to keep my legs spread for him. I felt so vulnerable. I thought Thomas might have gotten so worked up that he would become fixated on his own pleasure, but no. He was disciplined enough to continue tormenting me. Thomas knows how to use his cock as a weapon -- making it hurt (again, in that good way). He knows just the angle that makes me yelp in pain while also putting me on the edge of cumming. Bu today I would almost certainly not have any orgasms.

As for orgasms, it's on me to make sure I don't cum without permission. Thomas enjoys stopping and leaving me hanging when he sees I'm close. But under no circumstances am I allowed to go over the edge, so I'm required to ask him to stop if I think it might overtake me. Helping deny my own orgasms is very humiliating and yet another way I show Thomas my love and commitment. Today, he positively reveled in withholding my pleasure, sneering and laughing at my dismay when denied. His enjoyment increased the more desperate I got. I resorted to dirty talk, hoping I might get him to relent.

Putting my mouth to Thomas' ear, I told him, "It's your right to use me like a whore, you know. You and whoever you lend me out to."

Thomas grunted, but didn't miss a beat.

"Maybe you should slap me around in front of your friends. Let them see that I'm an obedient little bitch!"

Success! Thomas began fucking me even harder. Not frenzied, but deep, determined thrusts.

I continued. "Do you want to doggy fuck me in my tight outfit? Only slutty girls like it that way and I'll be such a good whore for you, doing what I'm told."

He shook his head, concentrating on pounding into me from above.

"Then you should fill up my little pussy. Cum in me, and then I'll scoop it out and taste it! I'll eat my own creampie!"

I think that did it! He was gasping, getting ready to cum. I would never get a better chance.

"Let me cum with you, baby! It'll be so perfect!"

And he stopped. Thomas actually stopped fucking me at a moment like that. I thought I was in for another slap that might rattle my teeth. But instead, he regarded me with amusement and shook his head. "Nice try. But I did like one suggestion."

Without disengaging from me, Thomas reached for his phone. "After I cum, you're going to eat it all up and then smile for the camera."

"But..." I was crushed. I actually thought I might talk him into letting me have an orgasm.

Thomas scolded me again, gently now. "You know better than that. Now be a good little fuck toy and squeeze me with your pussy. I'm going to give you a lot to clean up."

It was devastating. I don't think I had ever wanted to cum so badly. But being denied and giving Thomas complete control of my sex life is what I want. I love him and trust him. So I re-doubled my resolve to do the best I could and give him the most pleasure possible. My legs were spread wide again and wrists now crossed over my head to highlight my submission.

Thomas began fucking me again and I knew it wouldn't take much. At his urging, I began squeezing his cock with my pussy. There was no talking, I just knew when he paused inside me he wanted to feel my muscles contract on his cock. He gasped each time I did it and I don't think I've ever felt more womanly in my life. He was being sent to heaven by my pussy and I was coaxing him along as best I could.

After a few rounds of this it was too much for him. Thomas bellowed and released. I squeezed again as he buried himself deep in me, drawing out the climax for him. My arms went around his neck and I again whispered urgently in his ear. "That's it baby, let it go! That pussy is all yours -- fill me up!" I encouraged him through his orgasm, timing my squeezes and counter-thrusts to draw out his pleasure as long as possible. It was a long and satisfying orgasm for him and I felt the warmth inside me. He really had filled me up.

It took a long moment for Thomas to regain his senses. I would have liked for him to stay inside me and talk a little, bringing this dirty encounter to a loving end. But he had one final way to degrade me. Pointing the camera at my face he asked, "What just happened?"

Shyly, I replied, "You came inside my pussy."

Without another word, Thomas pulled out and adjusted the camera so he could see me from the waist up. He nodded at me to do my party trick. I reached down and scooped cum from inside my pussy, looked into the lens and licked my fingers clean. Then I did it again and a third time. After that I scooted down to take Thomas' softening cock into my mouth, cleaning him off thoroughly. Smiling sweetly into the camera I said, "I love you, Thomas."

Our session had begun with pain and ended with denial. He got to cum, and I got to clean it up. Which is the natural way of things for Thomas and I. My needs would have to wait.