Breaking her

“You are a stupid cunt,” he sneered.  “thinking that you could just walk away from me.”  He grabbed her hair and jerked her head back.  He traced the curve of her neck with the knife.  “You always liked the knife,” he purred into her ear.  “The cold steel.  The sharp edge.  So seductive playing so close to the edge.”

“Look at me,” he commanded.  He could see the fear in her eyes.  Tears lined her startling blue orbs.  She had beautiful eyes.  He could always tell what she was thinking by her eyes.  They were the windows to her soul.  Those eyes haunted him the past couple of months.  During the day, he would busy himself at the shop, pushing her out of his thoughts, but the evenings and nights were long and lonely.  Just when he thought he was over her, those eyes would haunt his dreams, bringing back all of the old hurt.  Yes, she was scared now.  He could see the terror in her eyes. 

She had been a proud slave and now that pride would be her undoing.  He had never been able to completely break her, but tonight, he would succeed.  He would make her beg and plead.  It had been easy to get her to agree to talk to him.  He had just sent a simple text saying that he needed to talk to her and she agreed.  Her sons were with their father this weekend on their usual schedule, so she agreed to allow him to come over to “clear the air”.  Soon after he arrived, he had her right where he wanted her.    He loved and craved the power he had over her.   She now stood in front of him, her hands bound in front of her with a gag tightly fastened between her pretty lips.    He traced her lips with the tip of the knife.  She closed her eyes as he felt her tremble.

Crack!  He slapped her face hard.  He enjoyed hitting her. 

“Look at me, cunt,” he screamed.  Her eyes flew open and blinked back more tears.  He could see the welt on her cheek beginning to form.  He circled behind her and kicked at the back of her knees, making her crumble to the floor.  Her grabbed her pony tail and pulled her back to her knees. 

“Did the stupid cunt forget her place?” he sneered in her ear.  “You belong on your knees.”

Taking the knife, he cut away her t-shirt.  He had sharpened the knife earlier tonight, honing the fine blade.  He had dreamed of doing this for some time.   Three more quick strokes and her bra fell away from her petite frame, exposing her full creamy breasts and the smooth expanse of her back.  He grabbed her full nipples and jerked her upright as she tried to slink down into the floor. 

“Don’t move,” he snarled.

He grabbed a breast and squeezed.  He could see the faint scars on her breast.  They had lightened over the past few months, but they were still there, reminders of his handiwork.  He flicked her taut nipple with the tip of the knife, teasing it.  She trembled.  He drew the blade across the creamy milky skin, leaving a faint line that quickly filled with blood.  He felt his cock harden.  He loved hurting her.  A few more quick strokes and he stood back to admire his work.  His name danced an angry red across her milky white breasts.  After years of practice with a knife, he knew just how deep he could go without serious harm. 

“Look,” he commanded.  Her eyes were shut tightly again.  He slapped her face again and forced her to look down at her breasts.  “What do you see?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, but tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he warned.  “I should never have to repeat myself twice.”

He heard a faint mumbling through the gag. 

“Yes, that is right.  My name.”  He straddled her from behind, pulled her head back and traced the blade along the length of her neck.  “You tried to walk away from me again,” he breathed into her ear, “but you know you are mine.  It’s not that easy.  I own you.  I never released you and I never will.” 

He pushed her down roughly onto the floor.  He loosened her jeans and panties and pulled them off of her, leaving her creamy ass exposed.  She tried to crawl away, but her grabbed a fist full of hair and jerked her back into position.

 “Don’t try that again,” he said, “or you will make it worse on yourself.”

He pulled off his braided belt and caressed it.  She had bought it for him when his last one had worn out.  She knew what he liked.  She had been a good domestic slave in those regards, cleaning, cooking, shopping, and caring for the children.  She learned what he had liked and made sure that she had taken good care of him, running his home with efficiency.  He couldn’t fault her for that.  But she had balked when he had made some decisions she hadn’t agreed with.  He had crossed her hard limit and she had felt that she couldn’t be around him anymore, so she packed up her belongings and walked away.  He had been angry with her. 

He was the master.  She had no right to tell him what he could do and what he couldn’t do.  He loved pushing the envelope, pushing the boundaries between right and wrong.  It excited him and thrilled him.  He hid his activity from her, but she knew too much about him.  It had wrong of him to think that she wouldn’t find evidence of his clandestine activities.  He had hoped she would just keep her mouth shut.  She hadn’t though.  She had come to him with her concerns, but he had ignored her.  He wasn’t ignoring her now…

He dragged the blade down her spine down to her rounded ass.  The faint scars of his initials were still visible, as was the burn that he put there four years ago. 

“Hold still,” he advised as he saw her stiffen.  He carved again, deeper this time.  His name welled in blood.  He felt the hardness in his groin.  It was so beautiful.

“Why did you agree to talk tonight?” he asked.  Her eyes widened in fear.  “I will tell you why,” he said.  “You wanted me.  You know that I own you.” 

Terror flooded her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks.  She shook her head in denial.  ‘Oh, this was going to be so much fun,’ he thought.  Breaking her was his fondest wish.  He needed to do this.  He ached with the need to make her his forever, make her admit that she was his and would always be.  She knew too much and could ruin him if she was decided to speak.

The belt snapped against her creamy buttocks.  Her whole body lurched forward with the sudden pain.  Splayed on the floor, an angry red welt rose quickly.  He grabbed her hair and pulled her back onto all fours and beat her ass again and again. 

“Who owns you?” he asked.

“You,” she cried, barely audible through the bandana that kept her from screaming.

“Louder,” he commanded.

“You,” she screamed as she collapsed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably.

“Yes,” he said as he pulled her hair, forcing her onto her knees, “and you will never forget that again.”

He fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and shoved his hard cock past the gag, into her mouth.  He ached so.  He loved hurting her and his cock had never felt so hard, so alive. 

“You were always the best at sucking my cock,” he growled with pleasure.  “I have had hundreds of blow jobs, but you were always the best.”  He thrust so far deep into her throat that she gagged.  He withdrew abruptly and slapped her hard across the face, sending her reeling.

“Daddy would forgive you for that,” he sneered, “but Daddy isn’t here tonight.  Only the bad man for you tonight.”    He brought the belt down across her silky shoulders.  She collapsed into a heap onto the clean floor, the intricate pattern of his braided belt reflected in the newest welt.

He had noticed that her house was clean when he arrived.  No piles of dishes on the counter.  The floors were impeccably clean.  The faint smell of lemon hung in the air.  It had fueled his anger even more.  Her stubbornness had left his home a mess.  He knew he was lazy.  He hadn’t been able to find anyone to clean for him since she had left.  She had been neglectful in her duties.  It was just one more reason to punish her.

Her breathing was slowing now, but she was still shaking.  He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her knees again.  Her hands were still bound in front of her, the ropes biting into her wrists.  The gag hung loosely around her neck like a collar.  He grasped the gag and dragged her towards the bathroom.  He shoved her roughly into the shower and forced her to her knees.  She was sobbing quietly.  She knew what was coming.  She hated this and he loved to humiliate her.  The intoxication of the power he had over her was overwhelming.  She was a pain slut.  She could handle a little humiliation.

He forced himself to relax enough to allow his urine to spew from his cock.  She gasped as the salty urine invaded the open scratches of his name.  He coated her head and her mouth with his piss.   Grabbing her lower jaw, he forced her mouth open further and filled it with his piss until it dribbled down her chin. 

“Swallow, you stupid cunt,” he commanded.  He held her nose closed until she was forced to swallow.  She gagged and sputtered uncontrollably, but fought to keep from retching further.    He turned on the water, not caring if it was too cold, and poured shampoo liberally over her shaking body.

“You have two minutes to wash,” he said as he turned and left her huddling behind the shower curtain.  He wasn’t a total monster, he thought as he chuckled.   He heard her muffled sobs as she washed quickly behind the curtain.  He shut off the water right on time and opened the curtain to see her still huddled on the floor of the shower.    She deserved to be humiliated.   He grabbed a towel and threw it at her.  “Dry off.”

She grabbed the towel and feverishly wiped, trying to hide behind the small hand towel that he had given her.  He grabbed her hair and led her out of the shower into her bedroom.  He bent her over the bed and forced her legs wide apart.

“See that,” he said as he reached up between her legs and stroked her pussy.  “You are so wet, just dripping.”  He continued to caress her cunt, coating his fingers with her juices.  With his other hand, he reached around and grabbed her nipple hard, causing her to gasp with the sudden pain.  He thrust juice laden hand into her open mouth.

“Taste yourself.  Smell yourself,” he commanded.  “You want me.  You are so wet for me.”  He fumbled with his jeans, pulling out his throbbing cock.

 He needed her.  It was plain and simple.  He needed to feel the power he had over her.  She gave him that vitality.  She made him feel alive.  Without her, he was an empty shell, trying to fill that void with other activities, but never achieving the same level of ecstasy.  They were poor substitutes for the real thing.

He slid his cock into her moist cunt.  He had come home.  He felt her tight, warm womanhood surround his hard shaft.  In frenzy, he thrust repeatedly, beating her womb with his rock hard head.  He could feel his urgency building, pushing him toward the edge of oblivion.  She was the only one who could do this for him.  She was the only one that could whip him into this fervor.  He needed her as much as she needed him.  Yin and yang, black and white, whatever you wanted to call it.  She was his other half.  She was the one that gave him the power to feel whole.  He would never tell her that though.  He would never admit this weakness…

He felt his sperm building as he pushed deeper.

“Who owns you?” he asked as the edge rushed closer.  “Who owns you?”

“You,” she screamed.

“Please,” she begged…

She woke abruptly.  The covers were in a jumble, wrapped around her legs.  She blinked as she bolted upright in the bed.  The clock on the nightstand glowed 3:19.  The bluish light of the television blanketed her room.  She had fallen asleep watching television, and now an infomercial claimed that some obscure product could change her life forever.

‘Another nightmare,’ she thought.  She willed herself to calm down.  She was safe, safe in her own room.  Why didn’t she feel safe?

She lay down and pulled the covers back over her shaking body.  When will this nightmare end?  Would she ever be able to free herself from his ghost?