The Juxtaposition of Persona

The thing looked in the dim recesses of the armoire. The hand moved forward slowly, pausing over several of the implements and finally grasping one in the leather gloved hand. Hefting it, testing the weight, the balance, the flex and the fall of the tails, the thing admired the leather flogger. It was a thing of beauty and was about to be applied to a thing of beauty. Beauty applied to beauty, creating more beauty!

She felt the soft touch of the leather tails as they were gently drawn across the smooth unmarked curve of her upturned ass. The touch, velvety and almost soothing, lulled her into a sense of ease. The next instant a shrill wail spewed from her lips as her head flew up and her back arched. The soft relaxing touch of the leather was replaced without warning by the cut of unforgiving leather across the curving plane of her ass, leaving a half dozen deep red welts on her flesh. Drawing a deep ragged breath, she was unprepared as the leather, coming back across from the other side, spread its tentacles across her other ass cheek. She struggled, trying to scream as she tried to inhale. The only sound she could manage was a gurgling muted sound, highlighted by the crack of the flogger as it traced its savage path across her ass again.

The thing stood behind her, working the flogger expertly in a figure eight, guiding the tails over her ass, her thighs and her back. With each stroke of the flogger, with each wail she emitted, with each jerk of her ass, his cock throbbed harder. The fire in his eyes, were they to be seen, burned with a new intensity. His breathing increased and as his lust grew so did the pace and intensity of the flogger until her world was nothing but an ever rising level of pain growing from her ass with each cut of the flogger.

His eyes watched. He could feel the lust. He could feel the intensity. He watched.

The flogger clattered against the chair. The noise lost amid the groans and intermittent sobs from the bed. The thing looked down at her. The intricate pattern of welts and bloody cuts on her ass and thighs was art in the things eyes. The sounds of her wails, screams and deep gasping sobs orchestral music to the things dark soul. The two, together, the greatest aphrodisiac possible. Taking the cock from the trousers, the thing stepped behind her. Grasping her welted ass in steel hard hands the cock drives down like a missile guided by the things lust.

Barely able to breath, she was aware that the seemingly unending torment on her ass had stopped. she gulped air, trying to control the sobs. She was unaware of the steel hard hands on her and unprepared as the cock speared her cunt and impaled itself deep into her sloppy wet warmth, stopping only when it rammed her cervix. The feel of the cock entering her was unexpected yet welcome, even needed. The piercing pain of the cock trying to breech the protecting ring of muscle guarding her womb set off a another agonized wail and, to her surprise, an almost instantaneous series of orgasms, each triggered as the invading cock again slammed into the now bruised membrane at the bottom of her cunt.

Each orgasm cause her cunt to clamp down on the cock inside her. The thing was amazed at her total subjugation to the demands. Looking above her head, hips pumping vigorously into her, the thing saw the red handkerchief clasped tightly in her sweaty hand. It was part of the balance, one of the strings that kept the intricately interlaced mechanisms in play. He had held firm and the thing had agreed. He required her to have an exit. The thing knew she would never use it. So the balance was maintained.

With her pussy filled with cum, her ass a mass of welts, cuts and bruises, she lay unable to move, only groan occasionally. She felt movement on the bed and winced. The slightest agitation caused her to momentarily relive the feel of the flogger on her ass. She wondered what new torment the thing had in store. She opened her eyes to slits and saw the body moving gently across the bed. With difficulty, she focused enough to see the eyes and a small smile crossed her lips.

Warm hands moved her gently until she lay nestled in the comforting arms that folded about her. She heard the soft voice, loving and gentle. She relaxed visibly. She felt something and realized that he was tugging the sweat dampened red handkerchief from her hand. Moving painfully, she curled around him, safe in his arms and secure in the knowledge of his love.

Deep in the dark recesses of His mind, the thing rested comfortably as well. Sated, for the moment, the thing watched and listened as He cared for her. The lust was still fresh in the memory of the thing. The thing knew that He was also aware of the memory as well. Chuckling, the thing brought the memory closer to the surface, letting the effects be felt by Him as well. Balance. It was all about the balance.

And so the juxtaposition of personas. A triumvirate, three in balance, needs and desires weighed against each other. He, she and a thing, unnamed, unseen, yet fully a necessary part of the balance.