Power of the Night

He waited in bed for her, idly rubbing the collar around his neck. It felt so heavy, so new…so permanent. His hands found their way to the lock, and he smiled softly, knowing whom it was that she treasured most.

He has proven his value and worth, his utter devotion, and most of all, his unconditional love. No one can take away what he has earned, no one but she. No one but his darkness.

The door opened and he stopped, breathing softly. A cold chill filled the room as the cold from outside his prison replaced and slowly killed the heat. A little bit of light sneaked in just before the door slammed shut and he flinched involuntarily as the click of the lock echoed throughout the oblivion.

“Kitten…oh kitten…momma’s home.”

Despite the dark, the cold, and the staggering feeling of dread he always felt whenever he heard that soft, cold edge to her voice, he could not help but smile softly and, in response, give out a little “meow” while sitting up and crawling to the edge of the bed.

“There’s my precious kitten,” he bucked his head gently against the touch of her palm as she stroked his hair, trying so hard to please her by purring just the right way that would excite her. He closed his eyes and let out a soft gasp as her stroking turned into the tight grip and tugging of his hair, her nails scratching his scalp. He looked up at her, in the direction of her tugging and saw the whites of her eyes and black void inside of them. He knew that glint in her eyes, and he knew that tonight would be a long night.

Letting go of his hair she turned around casually and slipped off her robe. He could not see as well as she could in the dark, but he knew what she wearing. He heard the rustling of leather gloves being slipped on and he stayed firmly in his place, just trying to see more of her than just the outline against the light of the moon. He felt the leather on his face as she slowly guided his head to tilt up, to look at her fully.

There was a soft smile on her lips and she kissed him, deeply, powerfully. Though she was such a small girl compared to him, the power she held over him was immense, a command that nothing could break. He kissed back, subconsciously trying to win back what little control he had. However, he failed, losing the war for power of his mouth. She pulled back and licked the side of his face, the warm saliva quickly turning cold on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“What should I do to you today kitten? What things invade the very essence of you, my precious little kitty slut?” He could hear her giggling, but it was not an innocent giggle, it was a dark giggle, laced with sadism. He stayed silence, though his body was trembling with desire and need. The need to submit.

Taking him by the back of his neck, she led him in front of the closet and pushed him down on his knees. Sliding opened the closet, she showed him a familiar, but frightening sight, “Let’s see…I have so many toys to use you on you, my precious, so many things to do…but unfortunately, time is of the essence, and I’m giving you the choice.”

That was cruel…He was not good at making decisions. Taking a small gulp, he began to sweat a little looking at all the implement of torture. He shook his head, “I can’t…I can’t choose Mistress…I’m not very good with decisions.” He sounded so much like a wuss, a pitiful being unworthy of being a man…

Yet he did not care how he sounded…as long as he could satisfy his Mistress…or at least…encourage her to be gentle.

“I give you a choice, some control, and you throw my gift back at me!” Uh oh. Mistress always had temper problems and though it was really a mock choice, her irritation was evident, “Fine, if you can’t choose, I will choose. There has to be one man of the relationship anyways.”

His eyes widen, but closed passively. Though the words stung, this only served to arouse him more, knowing he was just an object for her whim and pleasure, her frustration and anger…and…maybe if she allowed herself, for her love. Perhaps…if he worked extra hard to please her-

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of a leash and the vicious tug on to his back. Her foot, though not clothed by heels, was pressed against his arousal and despite his tries to silence his voice, he cried out as she pressed down hard on his crotch, eyeing him dangerously.

“That’s right…scream for me…scream for your Mistress!” The force of the pressure changed to just the front of her foot, causing the pain to increase as one area was continual being torture, and continual becoming harder.

“You like it, don’t you, my precious pain slut! Even as I’m killing your cock, you like it!”

When she moved her foot away, he curled up, knowing how much his vulnerability would affect her. He was trembling harder and even whimpering. He felt so weak, and she knew it.

Kneeling down, she softly stroked his hair and cooed to him, easing his pain a little. It was odd, how one moment, she was this cruel, angry beast, and now she was a soft, gentle dove, easing him into peace.

However, that was short live as he was jerked up to stand, his eyes downcast. Letting him go, she silently pointed to the wall, looking straightforward until he was right in front of it. Commanding him, he raised his arms and felt the shackles close and clasp around his wrists as she connected the chains to the hooks protruding from the ceiling. He knew what was soon to come, and he gulped, afraid despite his growing excitement

“Perhaps I should gag you…I don’t want the neighbors to hear,” With only those few words, he felt the gag being shoved into his mouth and the latch being clasped on the bad of his head. Of course, he did not fight her, he secretly wanted this, wanted to be used and toyed up to her will. This was her way of showing a special kind of love, and in truth, if she stopped, he would be frightened. The prospect of losing that love was more than enough reason to give up all control. The whip was sharp and ferociously stung his skin. He bit down on the gag, trying hard to fight the pain, but with each lash against his vulnerable back, he gave in to the release of endorphins and the trickling of crimson. Drool seeped out from the corner of his mouth and his fists were so tight, he felt his own nails tearing into the flesh of his hand.

After what seemed like hours of being whipped, he was unhooked and pushed against the mirror; his palms fell open against the glass and thus, red splatters painted the reflections. Though he was in complete obscurity, the eyes of his reflection were so clear. Despite what must have looked like a strong body, he knew how docile and wretched he had become; he knew his eyes betrayed him to her and to himself. With each break of his will, he fell closer to the darkness of her heart, and that darkness, that heart was the entity of his devotion, of his submission. He felt the gag pull away from his mouth and heard it hit the floor. His downcast eyes jolted upwards with the harsh grip of her hand on his chin.

“Who do you belong to?” She whispered seductively yet frostily, stroking his face with her nails, his lips pressing tenderly against his ear.

“I…I belong to you…” He looked directly at his reflection, seeing his chaffed lips move with his voice. She knew he had no problem telling those words to her, but having to watch himself say that, having to see how weak he become, having to mesmerize the dull pools which were his eyes only served to crush his pride, and please his mistress

“And who am I…?” She bit down on the top tip of his ear, causing him to gasp and sending a shock of pleasure to shiver down his spine. His fingers tried to grip the glass, and he bit his lip, trying so hard to keep his gaze on his reflection.

“M-Misery…beautiful…beautiful misery…”

With those words, he was brutally pulled away from the mirror, and was forced to suffer the darkness. A darkness he lived for.