 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 one
   
   Author: geraldine

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






That you are afraid of me is wise. That you understand your place, at my feet, without question, for the duration of your service to me, is worthy of note. That you have an unswerving, blind obedience to me is a beautiful thing that makes my skin tingle. So today I will test you, test your true limits. Test your sense of self-preservation, and test your unflinching loyalty to your one true Mistress. 

     Even with your well-trained, servile mind, you still have barriers up. I know this because I know your mind better than you do. There is still a trace of independence in you. A stubbornness, a humanity that you have carried with you your entire life, that is not entirely gone after your time with me. A remnant of your past. 

     As usual, I order you to come over early in the day. The usual order of things is for you to clean my house while I work on my computer and occasionally sneak up behind you and blow smoke at you. You are so dutiful as you clean, precise and thorough. When you hear me come up behind you, your head drops until your chin hits your chest, and you become so much smaller. Not so much like an abused dog that is expecting a hit from its master, but as a show of complete submission to me. You know I would never hit you unexpectedly unless you disappointed me or disobeyed me. 

     I have a spot in my cold black heart for you, slave. A fondness for your service, your pliability, your willingness to evolve into something more, all for me. 

   So now we begin.

     When you come over, I get you to strip naked. You are used to me putting a frilly maid’s dress on you before you get to work. This is different. Instead of seeing the dress and cleaning gloves and materials on the floor, all you see is me. Me standing before you in my tall black heels, fine stockings, black latex skirt, and black corset. My long blonde hair cascades over my bare shoulders. My hands are on my hips, waiting. You know I am not dressed for working on my computer. I watch you run your eyes over me, hungrily. I give you this one moment to look at me. What I see in your eyes is not entirely my slave. There is a man deep in there that sees what he wants, and wants to take it. I give you that moment. It is so lovely to break you of these pathetic male traits. Then I snarl at you. 

“I have a new chore for you today, bitch.” Commanding. 

     Your eyes light up and you look down at the floor. Without me saying another word, you drop to your knees in front of me, naked and excited. You hope to be my focus for longer than usual today. I know you. You dirty slut. I know that you were already hard and purple from being in my presence. You are even harder now from seeing me, hearing my voice and smelling my skin. I do not even have to look. It makes me laugh to see you so eager and hard for me. 

     You remain kneeling, with your head bowed, your hands clasped behind your back. Your hard cock rests lonely and untouched in your naked lap. You know I am smiling at you. I turn on my heel and go to my coffee table to get my lighter and cigarettes. I make sure I bend over right in front of you, low. I can feel you raise your eyes. The rest of your body stays rock still. My skirt is so short that it pulls up slightly to reveal the bottom curve of my ass. I know you see that I am not wearing any underwear. My bare pink pussy is exposed ever so briefly for you. It is a place you have seen and smelled but never once been allowed to touch. It is wet and shiny because I had just masturbated before you showed up at my door. I know you can smell my juices. You let out your breath, slowly. 

     I stand up straight, use my hands to pull down my skirt a little as I wiggle my ass in front of you. I come back to you, cigarette and Zippo in hand. Your eyes are lowered again, but I know they are not closed. I light my smoke, inhale. Close my hands around my lighter in a fist and use it to tilt your head up from under your chin. I am bent over you now, so tall in my heels, with my breasts pouring out from my tight corset. You keep your eyes lowered. I know you love looking at my breasts. They are soft and creamy and full, and so close to you now. But you know I am watching you closely, so you do not look.

“Look at me, slut.” You raise your eyes to look into mine, inches away. I exhale the smoke into your face. Take another drag. You are blinking now, smoke in your eyes. I blow smoke at you again.

“Do you like when I do this, bitch?”

“Yes, Mistress. Very much Mistress.” You cannot look me in the eye when you speak to me. I laugh at you and stand up again. I stroke your head like one might pet a dog. 

     With my heels tapping on the hardwood floor, I leave the room and go into the basement, leaving you alone. I know you will not move an inch as you wait for me. 

     A few minutes later I come back up the stairs, back to you. Your cock is hard and dripping down your thigh. Your body is covered in goose bumps.

“Cold, slave?”

“No Mistress; thank you Mistress.” The perfect answer. I know you are cold. 

     I stand behind you and fasten a leather collar around your neck. Cinch it tight. Attach a dog leash to it. Pull on it. 

“Up on your feet. Now.” 

     I lead you downstairs. In my heels I am so much taller than you, it is almost like walking an actual dog. You know better than to let the leash tight, or to bump up behind me. I have trained you well. You are a good pet. 

     Downstairs is dark, all the windows blacked out or covered, but I know it like the back of my hand and need no light. All the times you have been over, you have not been allowed downstairs. The door has always been locked. You have never asked why, or asked to come downstairs.

     I lead you into a small room. I turn on the light. I do not look at your eyes. I know what you are thinking. 

“Lay down on the bed, slave.”

     The mattress has a rubber cover on it. It is a single bed, with wooden posts at each corner. A small bed, almost a child’s bed. You lay down hesitantly. I have bound you before, but not down here. You are still covered in goosebumps. You are still, but your eyes move. You understand the consequences of trying to leave, and you stay still. 

     I walk around the bed, slowly, watching you. I know how hard and uncomfortable this bed is. I take your leash, still attached to your collar, and lazily wrap it around one of the posts. Your cock is smaller now, limp. Pre cum still glistens on your thigh and on the tip. I know you are trying to think. It is so much fun to watch what goes on inside your head, when you are conflicted like this. There is not so much outright fear in your eyes as there is a murky uncertainty.

“What are you looking at, slut?”

     Your eyes lock with mine. Pause. Then you look away. “Um… nothing, Mistress.”

     I laugh at you. You blush. I turn and take a couple of leather cuffs off from a pegboard on the wall. “You understand that I own you.” Quietly. 

“Yes, Mistress. All of me, Mistress.” 

     Each of your wrists, in turn, gets a cuff. The cuff is attached to a chain that is locked to a bedpost. Your arms are held stretched out above you now as I look down at your naked body. You look so small and weak. I smile at you. 

     I take each ankle and cuff them to the two lower bedposts. You are completely spread-eagle now for me. I walk around and adjust the chains so that they are tight and you cannot move. I take a leather wedge and slide it up between your legs until it slides under your ass, propping up your hips a few inches. Now you are lying with your back arched. I step back and look at you. You are so beautiful and pathetic and vulnerable and pale. I stroke your head as I smile at you.

“Now slave, I have a few surprises for you today. If you are good, you will be rewarded.”

Excited and anxious: “Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” So well trained.

     I leave the room for a moment, go up to my freezer. Take out a tray of ice cubes. Lock the door on the way back down. Then lock the door to the small room as I reenter. 

     You can see me beside you, but only if you crane your neck. I sit the ice cube tray next to your head. I sit down on the bed, pushed up against your side. Cross my legs. I have my cigarettes and lighter with me as well. I place my hand on your bare chest, and run my fingers up and down your skin. You are so quiet, and all I can hear is your heart pounding. You look at my breasts, my eyes, my long hair, my fingers dancing on you, my legs crossed and my foot in my high heels idly swaying back and forth. 

     I light a cigarette. Slowly. Take a long drag. Look right into your eyes as I do it. I feel the twitching beside me get stronger. I know you are rock hard again. Wet and purple. I do not need to look. Your cock is too pathetic to look at. I blow smoke in your face. I make the cigarette last. I simply sit there, listening to your heart and your quiet, painfully controlled breathing, as I drag on my smoke and lazily exhale at you. My eyes never leave yours. You watch my lips, the way they wrap around the cigarette and hold it. You watch the cigarette burn and flare. You watch as the smoke escapes my lips and flows towards you. You watch as I hold the smoke out above the floor and tap out ashes. You blink rapidly, but you never look away. I enjoy how you are so transfixed by this. 

     I take a long final drag. Then I take the lit cigarette and bring it straight down onto the center of your chest as I exhale in your face. You drop your head and let out a wail and fight to move your wrists. I listen to the heat searing your naked skin. Listen to the flame being extinguished on you. I grin. I can feel your heart pounding faster now. 

“Stop moving, you fucking sissy. Stop being so weak.”

     You are blinking hard now, tears streaming down your face. You try to catch your breath. 

“What do you say, slave?” I laugh at you. 

     Quiet, for a brief moment. Then: “I am sorry Mistress thank you Mistress.” It flows out of you like a stream of water. 

     With a smile I reach over and pop out an ice cube from the tray. Roll it around in my fingers right in front of your face, to get a better grip. Then I drag it down to your fresh burn. Rub it around. Your entire body breaks out in fresh goose bumps. You let out a long, trembling moan. I hear the tiniest hiss from your skin. I rest it on the burn and let it go. 

     I pop out another ice cube. Run it down your chest to your still-hard, drippy cock. Roll it around the base of your cock, cup it under your full balls. You shudder. I get your pubic hair wet with ice. I watch the cold water run along your hipbones and onto the bed. I take another ice cube and run it down the crack of your pale ass. You whimper uncontrollably, squirming.

“If you make too much noise, I will put a ball gag on you.”

You close your eyes tight, and become very still and quiet.

“And even if you screamed your sissy fool head off, no one can hear you when you are down here with me. Do you understand me, whore?”

You try to nod. “Yes, Mistress.”

I look right into your eyes and smile. “Now we shall see what kinds of glorious sounds you can make for me.” 
 


