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“Stay,” he orders.
I wouldn’t think of moving, of doing anything else wrong.
Did I really say those words aloud? And did my beautiful, sad Master Séverin say them back to me? Or is this what slavespace can do: make me imagine that my fondest wish is coming true?
Master Erek goes to a trunk up against one wall and begins pulling heavy metal chains out, then he pulls me to my feet. I’m so dizzy and weak, it’s hard to stand, but he steadies me, as always. And it’s Master Séverin who fastens a pair of leather cuffs around my wrists, and leather shackles around my ankles.
The leather is so soft, it tells me they have something really terrible planned for me.
The two of them move me to the end of the bed, and the backs of my thighs press against that soft edge as Master Séverin reaches up to do something overhead, out of my sight. When he raises my arms up over my head, I realize he’s fastening my cuffs to something—a spreader bar, perhaps—hung from the ceiling.
Master Erek stands before me now, dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs. His body is solid muscle, his arms and thighs thick, his stomach a solid six-pack. And his arms are fully tattooed, all the way to his shoulders, in black and grey, and part of his chest, too. I don’t know why this seems unexpected. But his ink is so beautiful, and so much a part of him, and when he turns to retrieve something else, I see that his back is fully tattooed, in what looks to be Viking designs. But I am too far gone already to really know.
The two of them begin to wrap me in chains. The metal is cold and the chains are heavy, weighing me down more and more as they weave them around my torso and over my shoulders, binding my breasts in the cool steel but leaving my nipples bared. They work together in flawless symmetry. And although the chains are heavy and already making my muscles ache, I feel beautiful in them. Decorated.
Master Erek attaches a pair of nipple clamps, then tightens them, turning the evil little screws. They have sharp metal teeth that bite into my already tender flesh, left bruised and bitten by Master Séverin’s teeth. But there is a rhythm to everything that is happening now, and I am sinking further and further.
I feel beautiful. Adorned. Treasured.
He attaches small iron weights to the clamps, and they pull my tortured flesh. But I wear them proudly, as if they were made of diamonds. They are, in my mind, in that dusky, ethereal place I’ve gone to.
And yet, I am more here in my body than I have ever been in my life.
Master Erek disappears once more and returns with a Violet Wand with a long, metal spike attached to it.
I take in a breath. This will be very bad.
He turns it on, and with a small laugh, he touches it to my chains, and a shock goes through me, traveling the entire length of the heavy chain wrapped around my body.
He grins at me, delighted already. “Stick out your tongue, Girl.”
I do it, and the shock is not as bad as one might expect. It makes him chuckle, and so I am pleased with myself.
Then Master Séverin steps in and takes the Wand.
He runs it over the chains, barely, but not quite touching them, making the electricity coming from the Wand and conducting through the metal spike arc, sending shock after shock through me. I am so full of endorphins and pain, my vision goes black, but he doesn’t let up. He shocks the metal clamps on my nipples, over and over, relentlessly. And though I know he’s waiting for me to cry, I am too lost in sensation. So fucking terrible. So fucking good.
He stops and grabs my face, bringing his so close to mine, it seems almost as if he might kiss me.
“One way or another,” he growls at me, then releases me so suddenly, I would have fallen if it weren’t for the chains and the cuffs holding me in place.
“Come,” he says to Master Erek, and they both immediately walk from the room, closing the door behind them.
Please don’t leave me alone.
I can’t say the words. But my heart breaks a little, knowing they will. Knowing they have. And not knowing if it will be an hour, or through the entire day and night.
I hang my head and whisper a prayer, hoping, hoping. But in moments desperation sets in and I let out an enormous sob, my cheeks soaked with tears immediately.
Don’t leave me alone, my loves.
And yet, they have, haven’t they?
An hour, or perhaps two, goes by with me too inside my head again, thankfully interspersed with occasional shivers of pleasure, with the pain in my shoulders from having my arms too long overhead, and with memories of that moment when my lovely Master Séverin said that he loved me. Although I cannot imagine he would say such a thing only to fuck with my head, I have no way of knowing for certain. And of course, I can’t stop thinking about it, wondering what his intentions were, as if my obsessive overthinking will clarify anything. I never know the inside of my Master’s or Mistress’s minds. But I truly can’t stop my mind from turning it over and over, from my own thoughts torturing me in a way no Master ever could.
I would sleep a bit, except that I am too preoccupied with their reasoning for doing this, for leaving me alone after my Master just told me he loves me.
But, of course they would. They are still the Masters, after all.
