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He cried out from the pain. Dona brought a whip she now had in her right hand into play, striking his thigh so he shifted it, pulling on the other side of his leash so he hopped that way. He spun as the other Mistress struck him again. He was dancing like a puppet between them, the artful tugs of the cock tether and skillful placement of the whips making him perform a lurching shuffle, awkward with his arms bound. Those surrounding jeered at him while eyeing his stiff cock appreciatively and making crude comments.
Punishment from a Mistress, from Dona, he could take. This was different. He was horrified to feel tears stinging his eyes. Blinking them back, he kept up the dance.
You’re not supposed to betray those you love.
But you betrayed those who loved you…
His gaze rose, despite his intense desire to keep his eyes down. In the crowd, waiting for him, he saw all of his past Mistresses, almost a full dozen.
Narcissa, Lady Jane, Melinda…even the murderess who had put him here, though he tried not to look at her. Every one of them was there…except Lauren. All beautiful women, well-cared for, self-assured.
The shadows of his past haunting him. They were not jeering. While he wondered why Lauren was missing, he was grateful that she was, for all of them just stared at him silently with the expressions they’d had when he had shown them his true face. His moment of victory. That moment that said, “You thought you had my love. I never needed you. I’ll never depend on any of you. You’ll never make me a fool. ” They spun around him as if he was the fulcrum of a merry-go-round that had gotten knocked off its pin, lurching him in a spiraling motion he couldn’t predict. His throat was tight, his chest aching, and he didn’t know why.
Pain is a mirror. You weren’t content until everything was a mirror of your own pain.
He was beyond questioning how Dona could speak in his head as easily as he could talk to her with his lips. He tried to turn away, but they were on all sides, backing him into the center of the circle again.
Why did you do it, Jonathan? What’s the face in the mirror? The final one, behind everything else?
“Stop. ” He shouted it, trying to get away from those faces and find Dona. She had to be at the end of the leash, but he couldn’t see her. A crowd of strangers pressed in on him now, invasive hands on his cock, his ass, playing with the nipple rings. A tongue at his scrotum, fingers pushing between his buttocks as his legs were held by multiple hands. Lifting him up like a rag doll with no control of his own actions. Goading his lust and his fear as he struggled, his body vibrating toward an orgasm that he didn’t want, a violation like rape.
“Dona, please…”
Stripped, nowhere to hide…you’ve been there before. Why did you forget what it was like?
Why would you do this to someone else?
“You’re not supposed to do this to me!” He screamed into the roar of club noise which swallowed his protest like a monstrous beast, making it insignificant. Not even a whisper among the din. “You’re not supposed to do this to me…” Not to someone you love.
You’re so right. So why did you?
With each of them, a part of him had craved something he couldn’t dare to want. It had gotten worse and worse with each game, each Mistress. He felt it now, looking at them.
But what about Mistress Lauren? Why isn’t she there? Dona’s voice, mocking him.
You’re controlling this. You should know. He shot the thought back to her resentfully.
Desperately. I don’t want to talk about Lauren.
We will. Not now, but we will. You felt something for all of your Mistresses, but especially her, because she reminded you of someone…
“No, stop it!” He started to struggle and kick, fighting the hands on him, not caring who he struck, just so long as they let go. It was futile. The more he convulsed in their grip, the greater their laughter and cruelty became. Their hands became more brutal, stretching him, thrusting, pinching. His upper body was dropped so his legs were higher in the air, allowing someone’s tongue to tease his anus behind, his cock in front.
At eye level he saw a man’s cock approaching, enormous and adorned with a spiked shield piercing, sharp metal tips that would cut when the organ was thrust brutally into a vulnerable mouth. Despite all of these frightening things, nothing was worse than that laughter. He needed the laughter to stop.
Surrender. Just surrender.
Not
to them. Never. Not to anyone…
Even me, your true Mistress? The one who knows who you are, everything that lies within your heart? Every hope you’ve had, every dream you’ve destroyed because you didn’t dare to believe in hope?
Her words wove around him like a net, inexorably immobilizing his limbs, taking away his will to fight. Surrender…
Surrender to his Mistress. He could do that, couldn’t he? He knew there were reasons not to do so, but he didn’t want to hear those voices. It didn’t matter anymore.
They could defile him and it would mean nothing. He was nothing. Going limp in all those hands, he let them do what they would. He was just an object anyway. Something nobody wanted, even himself. It was an unexpected thought, but as that huge dick came toward him, the acrid smell of bloodstained metal approaching his lips, it all made sense.
