A special toy, for a special kind of torture.
With many thanks to softprincessdenied.bdsmlr.com, although I can’t find a link to the original story now.
All chapters of this story can be found here.
He spread my legs, and I flinched.
The pain of the electricity was a week-old memory for me now, but my body remembered. It remembered, and every time it recalled that agonizing pleasure, it rewrote the memory to form a permanent link in my mind. I was so fucked.
I saw that intoxicating smile crawl across his face, as I felt my breath hitch. Those silvery blue eyes narrowed, but it was hard for my mind to decide whether the movement was friendly or dangerous. He reached a hand to stroke the inside of my thigh, and my heart began to race.
Not friendly.
“Oh, that’s beautiful.” He flashed his teeth at me, and I fought the urge to recoil. “That reaction – your fear – it’s beautiful.”
A mess of emotions twisted their way through my body. Helplessness, embarrassment that I had done this to myself, all wound through my tense muscles with a depraved sense of pride in his warped compliment.
Why would I do this to myself? Why would I write that goddamned code?
A blush washed over my face, and for a moment, I forgot to be frightened.
“Beautiful,” he said, dreamily, as he lowered his lips to my clit.
I felt my whole body tense, as the fear came crashing back over me, a hundred times more intense.
A permanent memory.
He made soothing noises, but they carried a lilt of derision.
“Don’t worry, doll. I’m not going to make you cum. In fact –” he paused to take a contemplative lick along the side of my pussy lips. “ – I’m not even going to get you close.”
A curious mix of relief, desperation, and hopelessness crept through my synapses. I felt the sting of tears in the corners of my eyes, but I found myself nodding, agreeing.
Anything not to cum. Anything to not feel that pain again.
“You’re such a good little doll.” He continued to explore my folds, as I shivered. “I never imagined the conditioning would work so well. It’s beautiful, what it’s turned you into.”
“What it’s… turned me into?” My own voice was too soft, too submissive. Something had changed between us, because of this machine.
He looked up at me, with those icy eyes, from between my legs. His expression sent tendrils of fear skittering through my veins. “Do you want me to tell you? Or do you want me to show you?”
I swallowed dryly, listening to my own heartbeat over the background hum of the sybian across the room.
“Let me show you,” he said.
I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to protest, to say something. Anything. But the fear of the machine, of the code, of my orgasm itself, was enveloped so tightly with my fear of him, that I found myself nodding compliantly, unwillingly.
“Say it. I want to hear the words.”
A tiny, keening sound escaped my lips, and I felt my cheeks burn.
“Please… no, please don’t.” My plea sounded pathetic, even to me. I knew he was going to win, just like the algorithm was going to win, just like the code was going to win. I don’t know why I begged. “Please, don’t make me say it.”
His smile was predatory, as he gestured toward the sybian. “Want another ride, first?”
Palpable terror, thick like frozen diesel, locked my joints in ice. “No. No, no, no. Please, no.”
“Then you know what to do, then.” His voice was almost lyrical, but holding the edge of a tritone chord. He dipped his head back down and took another bitterly slow lick of my most sensitive flesh.
Another shiver wracked my body, as my voice came in broken shards. “Please… please show me what this has… turned me into.” Each word held a timbre of dread that I couldn’t disguise. I didn’t want the answer to this question, not really, but I feared the machine more.
He murmured approvingly, taking another soft lick.
The softness of his tongue twisted into my thoughts, so opposite of what he had threatened. Still, my trepidation hung in the air between us. As he built my pleasure slowly, conditioned fear threaded itself through my mind, reinforcing the insidious psychological bindings of my agonizing rides.
From across the room, the other woman begged. “Please! Please, Joaquin, let me cum!” Her body bucked and thrashed as she rode the sybian, her eyes wild. She was picture perfect desperation.
He had not turned on the electricity, for her. It was all pleasure, for as much as that meant to her, now.
Envy still burned along my skin, at her lack of fear.
I clenched my teeth, and I thought about how much I fucking hated her. I hated the softness that he showed her, the velvet touch he gave her. The feeling of deep unfairness settled in the soft parts of my mind, and I hated her.
Her ragged voice filled the room, and I smiled to myself, before it was wiped clean off my face as he pressed his sweet tongue to my clit again. For just that moment, I understood a little of the fascination with making me scream; her voice wasn’t quite broken yet, but I knew it would be.
Of course, I knew too well what that code could do.
“Again,” he said, his voice deeper with his own dark arousal. “Say it again. Make me believe it.” He sucked my clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, licking the underside of it just like I would his cock.
I felt the pleasure building, and it sent nothing but alarm bells ringing in my head. I tried to pull away from his insidious ministrations, but he held me fast. It was a trap, like everything else about him. There was nothing I could do, sitting so helplessly, being teased. There was nothing I could do but obey.
Obey. That was my only recourse. I didn’t have a choice.
“Please… please show me what this has turned me into.” My voice wavered with some sickening mix of fear, pleasure, and choicelessness. “Please show me what you’ve turned me into.”
“Me?” He looked up at me, letting my clit drag over his lips. “It’s your code, remember?”
“You… but you…” It was hard to form a coherent thought. I felt dazed, drugged, almost. “Y-you made it so much worse. You put the… electricity with it.”
He tipped his head to the side, like he was considering the merits of my accusation. “Maybe I did make it a tiny bit worse, yes.” He closed his teeth around my swollen bud, and I felt my eyes widen in abject terror. He didn’t bite, but just held it there. The threat was enough. The conditioning had made the threat, enough. “I never imagined it would work this well, though. That’s what really surprised me. You’ve taught me to be careful with her.” He gestured to the other woman.
Pain, fear, envy, jealousy, stinging hatred, coursed through my blood.
I taught him to be careful with her?
I couldn’t fathom it. “What?”
“I mean,” he started, going back to the slow, sensuous licking. “You’re already so deliciously broken, so I don’t have to be careful with you anymore. I just get to break you into smaller –” lick, lick, “– and smaller pieces.” Another lick, and I tried not to bite through my own tongue.
I hated her.
“What would you do, to avoid another night with the electricity?” he asked.
Anything.
“Anything,” I said, my voice betraying every corrupt emotion I was feeling, even in that one small word. “Please, anything.”
A noise of pure pleasure rumbled through his throat, and it sent aftershocks of terror screaming through my pussy. The sound of it made me want to run. Adrenaline spiked through my body, and I felt my limbs tingle and ache with the need to escape. Except I knew I was trapped. He had trapped me with my own desire, my own masochism. I had given him the ultimate power over me, freely and willingly. Stupidly, not realizing.
He had taken it, and so much more. And there was nothing I could do to stop him.
The reality of that thought hit me like a blow to the stomach, making it impossible to draw a good breath.
I arched my back, feeling the depth of my fear, the depth of my terror, the inescapability of his conditioning.
A permanent memory, rewritten stronger and deeper each time I remembered it.
“Stay right there,” he said, finally letting go of my thighs and standing up. “You’ve almost got it. You’re almost there.”
I focused on breathing, as I closed my eyes and felt the heat of him dissipate into the air. In and out, in and out. Trying to calm my racing heart, trying to soothe my creeping terror at my own pleasure. I heard the sybian motor being shut off, and the sound of cuffs being unhooked. Her voice came in staccato little sobs, mindlessly begging him to let her cum.
She didn’t understand begging.
He walked back with her in tow, her skin shiny with sweat and her hair in damp tendrils down her back. I looked on, helplessly, as he helped her swing her legs on either side of my face. No, I wanted to say. No, I don’t want this. This isn’t what I want. Her wet pussy rested against my lips, heavy and slick with her desire, and she rubbed herself back and forth, moaning.
No, I wanted to beg. Please, no.
He knelt down and put his mouth to my ear, as his voice rose the hairs on my arms. “What do you call someone who is mindlessly obedient, conditioned to associate her own pleasure with agonizing pain?” He nipped my earlobe, and I moaned. She ground harder, mirroring the sound. “What do you call someone like that?
I tried to shake my head, but I was trapped between the other woman’s trembling thighs.
“You think about it, as you make her cum. As her orgasm covers your face, you think about what that person is called. After I fill her ass with cum, if you get it right, I’ll let you clean her up.”
The cruelty in his voice both surprised me, and somehow, didn’t. I blushed, as my chest felt like a sucking void of humiliation and jealousy.
Mindlessly obedient. Choicelessly obedient.
I hated her.
Every emotion seemed magnified, crawling through my psyche. Fear, humiliation, envy, hatred, helplessness. Submission, masochism. I was trapped by my own terror. By my own sick desire.
I opened my mouth and took a tentative lick of her swollen lips, and she moaned.
Like what you’re reading?
Support my work on Patreon or Ream to get early access to new stories and chapters, vote on the next update, or suggest an idea for a new story!
Photo by Aiony Haust on Unsplash