WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit material.

   It is not intended to be read by anyone under the age of 18.  This is a
work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.  Copyright 2007.


   Title: In the basement, part three

   Author: geraldine

   Story codes: MF, Fdom, sm, humil, bd, cbt


     

I leave you alone as I go upstairs. Make myself some coffee. Put my feet up. I cannot hear you once I get up the stairs. You are alone now, all alone, duct taped securely to the bed, unable to move, ball gagged, hurting. Poor lonely little slut. I take my time.

After an eternity – for you – I return. Refreshed, smiling. 

     “Hello, my pathetic little whore. Did you miss me.” Not even a question. Just a statement. Your eyes are locked onto mine, searching. I love watching you like this, confused, trying to understand, and trying to anticipate. 

     I crawl on top of you, smoke in hand. I light it and sit back, on your chest, feeling the strips of duct tape warm against my legs. I bounce a little, and you cough behind your gag. I blow smoke in your face, plume after plume, grinning at my worthless maid sissybitch. You shake your head. 

     “I am your Mistress, little slut. I give you everything you need, including your air. You must take the air I give you.” And with that, I inhale, lean forward, and blow a stream of smoke straight up your nose. Your eyes are instantly blood red. I sit up and start laughing at you. You cannot hack properly behind your gag. I give you the small mercy of removing your ball gag, and laying it next to your head. 

     Before you even have a chance to say anything, I lean forward again, my lungs full of black smoke. I know you can hardly see from the smoke making your eyes water. But you see some blur coming towards you, and you open your mouth to say something. Too late. With one hand I force your jaw down, and the other hand, my cigarette neatly between my fingers, pinches your nose shut. I lock my lips over yours and exhale into your mouth. Hard.

     Then I sit up again, holding your mouth shut with one hand. Your eyes are even more bloodshot now, watering and blinking. Smoke comes out of your nose in angry puffs. Your ears ring with my laughter. I let go of your jaw and you are coughing, hacking, sputtering, spitting. I tap my ashes onto your face. I breathe into you again. And again. And every time you are trying to talk, trying to beg me to stop. I lean down and hold your eyelids open – which is difficult because they are so wet from your crying, and I have to grab your slick eyelashes – and I blow smoke onto your slave eyes. 

I sit up, watching you. I shake my head, slowly. 

     “What an ungrateful sissywhore. I give you my breath, I even put my very own precious lips onto yours, and here you are fighting and squirming and begging me to stop. Tsk tsk. You unthankful, miserable BITCH!” I hit your cheek full force with the palm of my hand. It makes a very lovely, sharp sound that makes me smile. You grit your teeth and start crying again, between hacking coughs. How pathetic. 

     I take my cigarette, still lit, and only partly finished, and hold it above your head. I place my other hand firmly on your face, twisted around so that my fingers and thumb cover your eyes, and the web between thumb and forefinger rests on the bridge of your nose. Your eyes are wet under my hand. I lean in, close. 

     In one swift motion I force the lit cigarette up your right nostril. I hold it in there, tight, as you move under me. Your head bucks up. With my forefinger I press against your nostril. I can hear the slightest sizzling noise under the awful sounds flowing out of your mouth. 

     I whisper softly, “Don’t breathe through your nose, little whore, or your sinuses will itch and burn.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, glistening in the light. I let go, and get off the bed. Now you are coughing harder, sputtering, wincing, trying so hard to move your bound arms. 

     While you are trying to breathe again, I untie one of your feet. You are too surprised and distracted to kick at me. I place a length of rope behind your knee. Then I fold your leg, so that your foot rests against your ass. And I duct tape your leg like that. Quickly. Like roping a calf, in a way. That thought makes me smile. I have done this before. 

I move to your other leg, whispering to you softly as I hear you moaning. 

     “You lowly little whore, did you think I would be easy on you? Did you think I was done with you? I am only beginning, slave. I have so many plans for you.” 

     I do the same thing to your other leg. Rope under the knee, then your leg duct taped to itself. I finish and look at you. The only parts of you not covered in duct tape now are your head, arms and crotch. I laugh at you. You look like a freak. Plus, your face is covered with tears and snot, and your one eye is very red and swollen and puffy. 

     I grab the ropes attached to your one leg and loop them around the posts beside your head. Now your arms and legs are attached to the same posts. And now your ass has been hoisted up for me, totally exposed, bare and vulnerable. 

     Now you are looking at me again, still blinking rapidly. I can tell it stings in your sinuses. You must want to sneeze so badly but cannot. I find myself laughing at you once again. 

     “Well, my worthless bitch, I have a feeling you are going to make more noise.” I tilt my head to the side, studying you. “And we can’t have that.” I take the ball gag off the bed and pop it back into your mouth, making it good and tight. Your pleading eyes are met with my smile. 

     I take a thick elastic band, from a bunch of broccoli. I take two of them. I get down by your pale, sweet sissy ass. I take one and wrap it around the base of your cock. I notice that it is still partly hard, and it makes me laugh. I loop it around three times, nice and tight at the base. It takes some effort to get it this tight, and I have to force it a bit. I pull back on it and let it snap against your sissy dick. I take the other band and loop it around the base of your balls. Loop it once, twice, three times. Yank on your balls to make it go around again. Force them through. Painfully tight, I would imagine. They start to go purple immediately. I give your balls a little smack, like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Bat, bat, bat. 

     I can’t even hear the noises you are making behind your ball gag. It is just white noise to me now. I am humming a tune. I lean on the bed, right next to your ass, grinning at the burn marks on your thighs I left earlier, snapping one elastic, then the other. Over and over again. Snap. Snap. Snap. 

     And then I start to flick. Over and over, with my forefinger, flicking the shaft of your pathetic little purple cock, and then flicking the straining bulge of your balls. Your hips bounce and flex as you try and move, try to get away. But you are tied up, and taped down. 

     I go over to my little table and pick up my riding crop. My lovely black leather riding crop. I tap the base of your shaft with the tip of it. You try to squirm away. I tap it again, tapping up and down the shaft, watching it flex and twitch and bounce for me. Top and bottom, side to side, harder and harder. You are trying to speak but I cannot hear you now. I spank the base of one ball, then the other. Give them a little love tap, as it were. 

     Then I haul back and crack my crop against your inner thigh. Right on the burn, on the hot redness of your skin. I whack you again, up one thigh and down the other. Making sure I hit the burns, practicing my swing with you. Leaving lovely red welts on you. 

And then I take the end of my crop and push it against your tight little sissy asshole. 

     “Hmmmm, what do we have here, bitch? How degrading that your asshole is so vulnerable and exposed for me like this.” I tap my crop against your ass. You cannot even lift your head to watch. Your head is turned away, tears running down your sissy face. 

     I come up next to your head. You move your head slightly, to look at me. You are suddenly so quiet. I can see your pain, your suffering, your pleading with me for my mercy. I have none. 

I take off the ball gag and you inhale deeply, getting a fresh lungful of air. You do not say a word. 

     “I have some errands to run, pathetic little bitch of mine. When I come back, I am going to find out what I can fit in that sissy ass of yours.” I wipe away your tears with my hand and smile, and you start crying again. 
 
