Discipline by Nikki
Chapter 1
I am china, I am Glass. I am smooth and cold.
>Are you alone?
>Yes (just me and my dark shadow)
I smell them, the men, their darkness, their excitement.
I've been here for hours (or days, weeks, seconds, I'm not sure)
They haven't touched me, but one came very close, I felt his hot, wet breath on
my neck, an almost imperceptible grunt as he inhaled me deeply, sucking the air
from my body, into his.
The atmosphere is acrid, bitter in my mouth. It tastes like a machine would,
inside. Industrial and oily. It coats my skin, leaving me dirty, each of my
pores clogged with its stickiness.
>You know I love you so much. You are mine, your pleasure, your suffering, mine.
>I love you (Oh! How I love you, tear me open and take my black heart in your
teeth, swallow it that I may live inside you, pumping through your veins,
filling your soul with my liquid fire)
I would be naked, were it not for my blindfold, a crude affair from what I can
tell. Dark rag, tied tightly around my head, dragging at my eyelids. My eyeballs
prickling underneath. My back aches from standing on the rough cold surface,
dusty, greasy concrete feel. They are wearing heavy shoes or boots, their
footfalls echoing as they circle me, their eyes burning into the very core of
me, piercing at my insides with intensity.
I don't detect the approaching one, and when it comes, the touch startles me, I
gasp, causing the others, but not him, to snigger, childlike. He grabs my wrists
in one giant hand, wrenching my arms skywards. Judging by the ease in which he
does this, he is much, much larger than I am. He binds my hands, and then
tethers them to some post or hook above me. I am forced almost on tiptoes; the
searing pain in my shoulders is immediate, dulling to a steady, pulsing ache.
Tears Begin to fall, salty, soaking into the blindfold, stinging my cheeks. "Why
are you crying, you dirty little bitch? No-one is going to hear you, save the
rats in the wall, and they don't give a fuck" His voice is gruff, angry, and
filled with loathing. I feel a flush creeping from my breast, up my neck to my
scalp. I'm no longer cold (I am china, I am glass). My womb dilates and
contracts inside my belly, pulsing hard into my groin.
>Be good for me tonight angel, you make me so happy.
>Of course (please let it always be so)
"So let me tell you how it's going to be ok? You are ours 'til we tire of you,
to do with as we wish" A thumb, tracing the outline of my jaw, a hand, circling
my throat. His breath, like smoky, bruised fruit, cigarettes and lager. "You are
a filthy, disgusting slut, gagging for me to fuck you, I bet your cunt is
soaking with the anticipation of my cock ramming into it" his hot mouth is on
mine suddenly. His rough calloused hand grazing against my nipple. My body (your
body, Master) responds of its own will (your will?) my mouth softens, opens to
the tongue probing at it, my nipples stiffen. My thighs fall forward, my knees
having lost the ability to maintain my weight, I am hanging by my wrists, but am
hardly aware of the wrench, like some distant, long forgotten ache. One hand
cups my sex, the other my breast. A finger inside me, then two, jabbing at my
spine. I groan, and pant, my breathing laboured, my senses closing down to
everything around me, except the need of my shadow, the dark shadow of my
wanting.
He whispers in my ear, the others can't hear what he's saying, so crude, mean,
and beautiful. "You are loving this, you whore. I am going to make you come so
hard you will spend the rest of your life thanking god for my existence" he's
rubbing my clitoris, fingers still probing at my soul, his other hand sliding
down my spine, down and underneath, pausing to push at my anus, causing me to
tense even more.
One of the other men moves, I hear him. Then, the unmistakable 'swoosh' of a
belt being pulled from its loops. I hear it crack on skin a split second before
I feel it; a moment of confusion whilst my brain attempts to work out what's
just happened. The pain, when it comes, is exquisite, first the whispering
scream as the air is severed, a barely registered draught across the top of my
thighs, the noise of the impact, the buzzing in my head, which translates
gradually, into pain, low down on my buttocks at first, then a crescendo, a roar
of agony, an angry dragons roar, then the flames, spreading outward, subsiding
to serpents tongues of sting, licking furtively, a line of fluttering echoes.
Before there's any chance for natures analgesia to take effect, in the form of
some numbing, another blow.
