My terror is so intense. My physical pain is only matched by a deep regret, because, now I fear we will never again have the lightness or friendship I have grown to love in this complex D/s relationship… And so, my heart also aches…
I am not sure how much time has passed in my remorseful agony. I feel like I’ve been punched. He stands before me and removes the leather belt he is wearing. Perhaps he has returned to bed again in his frustration. Four. My humiliation is overwhelming. I pour the glass full for him, and return the pitcher. Lifting my chin so that my eyes look into his, he says, “We have almost filled all of your holes now, bitch-slave, and I want you to know how lovely you look.” He moves a full-length mirror so that I can view my entire body being tortured. He returns a few minutes later with a shocking device, as promised by my Master.