your kidnapper saying "remember when you hated this?" referring to something that you quite obviously still hate, but you've been sufficiently broken enough that you don't object anymore
i’m not entirely sure how to phrase this idea but:
Your dom brings you down into the basement. It’s been a minute since you were here since you’ve been doing slightly more gentle pet stuff while it was working on something here. You’re led in with a blindfold, just for added suspense, and you step where you are directed. The blindfold comes off and your dom tells you to strip.
In front of you is a large wooden frame in an L shape. There’s a flat table of wood leading into a sort of stock for your neck. Then, the frame continues up from the stock to hold a large sheet of sharp metal, a guillotine, one made for bdsm. There’s a rope tied in a knot to the frame which keeps the blade from falling, and restraints for your wrists and ankles.
You do as you’re told, stripping down and staying still, already breathing heavily. Your dom grips you by the neck and secures it into the stock, locking it with a padlock and tying you down as you look for a safety mechanism. You weren’t presented with one, and you haven’t been told anything but to stay still. Of course, the usual teasing flows around the room, but there’s a heavy seriousness which you can’t discern the truth of. You’re uncertain.
While you think, you hear a sharp crack, followed by a scolding, bursting pain. In the wake of your startled gasp you feel the cold basement air flowing gently over the new scar on your back from an all-too familiar red whip. Two more cracks, less intense now that you were on edge, but they cut just as deep. Another across your ass, and one which scarred your thigh.
Now that the banter had been cut off, you simply held onto the harsh wooden frame and tensed and flinched. But another strike didn’t come. Your dom stepped forwards, and undid the knot on the frame. You heard metal sliding on wood for a moment and then realised that it was the sound of the blade lowering towards your neck. With your head in a fixed position, you couldn’t see it, but the sound was more than half the fear.
The rope connected to the blade was pulled and it raised up to the top. Then, your dom knelt in front of you. You could see the cold cruelty in its eyes as it pushed a thumb to your lips and into your mouth. It held the rope in one hand, playing with your tongue with the other. It pushed, and you gagged, much to its amusement.
As your mouth hung open, your dom pushed something into it. Thick and coarse, your mind thought it a gag for a moment, but the firm ‘bite.’ that came from your dom made you realise the truth. This was the blades rope. If you were to let go. It would fall.
A few moments after it had sunk in, you felt another crack out of the blue and almost gasped reflexively before biting hard down on the rope. Another, and another. In total you counted twenty, across your back, ribs, thighs, calves, and ass. You could smell blood and your mouth’s grip was weak.
Hands came onto your back, causing your scars to roar with pain as the blood was smeared across you. The sound of a camera, some teasing, a painful grab at your bloody thigh. It started to blend together, and they didn’t stop.
An hour later, you were struggling to stay awake. Your back was cut and burned and you had enough smoke blown in your face to cause anything but the most basic thought -bite the rope- to be foggy. It was at this point that you felt a torturous sensation, soft and gentle, along your ribs. Fingers gliding so lightly over your sides that you couldn’t help but laugh. Then, the sound of metal sliding on wood, and your scream.
A couple of weeks later, you and your dom headed down to the basement again. You had family coming over, and there may be some nosy members. Dismantling the faux guillotine was necessary, and the surprise would only really work once anyway. You got started on the front, while they detached the back. The blade was Very sharp, cutting you as you pulled it out and you felt that excited jolt up your spine at the thought of how close it was. Your dom had explained it, the stock was a solid chunk of wood, no seam down the middle for the blade to slide down, so it stopped at the stock and went no further.
You finished up, and hid the pieces away under a tarp. You went back up first while your dom cleared up the last pieces. It wanted to make sure you didn’t see the beginnings of the first version, with a split stock and a basket to collect.
for all the fake "aphrodisiac" injections in hentai, weed is literally *real*. 1. hotbox a girl till shes incoherent 2. hook her up to a video game with vibrator peripherals 3. take good care of her
i think my ideal dynamic is constantly sobbing and shaking in pain while you're doing the cruel things to me we've fantasized about for so long but it's exponentially worse actually going through it so i'm in a perpetual state of slight panic and fear of you but that's also something we sexualized and romanticized so realistically i'm right where i want to be
kikan'ag longwa saji hagimayong.
(There's a meeting at five and I don't wanna go.)
chiga sana notaywa salam'o isatto ei?
(How about we kill someone before it starts?)
ma? oni imou pagida!
(Huh? It was just a joke!)
Hunter brings a sort of "I don't know if she's killed before" vibe to the office that the coworkers don't really appreciate.
gummygunk
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
pixelskylines
stormborns
