Tags: lewd story, hard kink, d/s, domme-pov @ reader (sub-pov), gun play, arbitrary violence, degradation, bondage, stepping, breath play
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This is not a demonstration of power. For it needs no such thing. It is the use of what is there, of what was given and is now at my disposal, my very own leisure. That is all it ever needs to be. As you stand there, naked to the very flesh in the centre of the room, I smile. Grabbing some chains and padlocks I walk towards you, slowly, with each step allowing the sound of my thin heels on the tiled floor to echo in its full potential. Instinctively you present your hands and wrists. Showing initiative I see. But oh no, this isn’t just yet another simple tie and hurt thing. I pass right by them. And without wasting a moment I grab one of them, roughly forcing it to follow me behind you. I grab the other one, tie the chains around both wrists and force you down, a small kick into the back of your knee taking care of any resistance or lack of speed. What a pathetic sight your body offers, all slumped down on the floor while I never let go of the chains, forcing your arms slightly upwards. Spit hits it. A little extra for the feeling. Just because. A padlock takes care of the metal, securing it onto a ring on the floor to keep you there as well as another one locking the chains into position at wrist height. Can’t let you wriggle free of them after all now, can I. I stand up, smile, let you take in the place you’re at, how it feels to be on the floor, lying there belly down, cold tiles, cold chains, tied to right where you are. But not too long. After all, this is my space. A kick to remind you. Another one. Third one stays, my boot wandering onto your ass, pressing downwards, toes first. And then my heel, slowly piercing deeper into your flesh as I shift my weight onto it, my head leaning backwards, eyes closed, taking in my own emotions, focusing on you, the sounds you make. Come on, make some noise, scream! Better. I let go. “Up now, toy. Come on. On your knees, hands on the floor, palms up. You heard me.” First kick brings you down again, crashing down right where you left. You look at me, eyes slowly filling with that beautiful emotion I seek: fear. I nod, a smile, an evil pleasure forming in my mind, tingling my body top to bottom. “I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t care about comfort. I don’t have to. Only my pleasure, my own. On your knees, now!” The second kick just hurts but lets you get up. So does the third. This time though you scream, hold nothing back, starting to let the pain get hold of you. Finally! The moment you’re up I grab your neck, hand and fingers forcing your face upwards as I look down. I waste no time. Keeping eye contact, never allowing either of us to flicker, I move behind you. Oh the eyes, the face, the way your whole body shivers, this is exactly what I want! Once again moving behind you I look down. Bending over you, letting my spit flow down onto you in a single, continuous stream of drool I step onto your palms, still open and on the floor like the good little girl you are. But I waste no time. A heel per hand, both at once, full body weight. And a slap with my other hand as you close your eyes from the pain I cause. “Look at me.” Another one, for good measure. “Look at me. I don’t need a reason. I take. I break. I enjoy the pain I cause, the way that all it needs is me, my will to do so at my leisure alone. You are a tool. An object. Nothing to care about. Nothing at all. Let me show you.” Slowly stepping of your palms, enjoying the high pitched noises you make as skin sticking to my heels leaves them, I release you, pushing down where pushing is needed as you fall, untying you once you’re fully on the floor. And leave you there, a moment of rest at least, as I head away to grab a small black handgun. My back still turned I order you to lie on your back, face upwards, before returning. A feeling of delight, my eyes twinkling from the way you once again look at me as I walk towards you, firmly clutching what I got. I sit down on you, looking at you for a moment before speaking. “I don’t need this thing to do what pleases me” you nod violently, accompanied by little squeals of whatever beautiful thing it is going on within you, “but that’s not the point. This is for me” I say, moving forward, my free hand grabbing your nose, stopping any flow of air through it as I start using you, gun pressed firmly against the side of your head. Enjoying the moment, enjoying the thrill, enjoying every single movement you make, every twitch. And most importantly every single ounce, every strand of control I have. Oh, the power. I can’t help but moan. And again. What a perfect emotion to continue from. I stand up, let go, aim my gun directly at you. “This is to feel dominance. That is all that matters.” And pull the trigger.
You know the drill, I hope so at least. I get some blankets, a plushy and something to eat and drink. But first you have to lick away the fucking mess you make.