EXTRACT FOR
Marcus' pain slave
(Kim Hardwick)

"Pig, you are never going to forget this night.  Remember that."  

Marcus removed from the drawer something metallic, shiny.  Placing it on the nightstand, next to the lamp, I realized that it was two pairs of nipple balls.  Magnetic, that is.

I've read about them, but have never had the privilege of having Marcus use them on my nipples.  Hopefully Marcus purchased the heavy duty magnets.  After two years of his loving attention, my nipples needed something a bit more sophisticated to replicate the pain he inflicted during our initial courtship.  After two years, my nipples have gotten jaded and now require elevated levels of pain to replicate the delights of the past.  I'm a big girl now and need big girl toys.  Damn it, I have to get used to calling him Master.  What is wrong with me?

Master next removed a double row pinwheel.  Probably for my labia.  Obviously there was no way to confirm it, but I imaged my eyes dilated at the sight of the pinwheel.  Master was certainly being imaginative.  He was really going to make me pay.  Good Master! I was getting so aroused.

Oh no!  Just thinking about what he would do to me triggered an involuntary orgasm.  Oh Lord, please help me!

"Master, I beg your indulgence."  Master had to be made aware of what had just occurred.  As his slave, there is no such thing as having an orgasm without Master's permission.  This is one of Master's important rules; a commandment, so to speak.

"Yes, pig, you have my permission to speak."  Master was always correct.  Firm, yet correct; a true Southern gentleman as he once confided in me.  This adherence to a value system based on an archaic code of honor is one of the reasons why I love Master so.  Aside from his physical beauty, as well as his knowledge of my body and how to maximize my pleasure, both reasons enough for my devotion, the main non-physical attraction for me is his iron willed devotion to living my his personal code.  The fact that he will never compromise on certain issues regarding how he lives his life, only strengthens my love and devotion to him.

 "Master, contrary to your instructions, I have just experienced an orgasm without having first received your express permission.  I humbly request that I be subjected to any unspeakable punishment you may determine to be proper, in addition to what you may yet mete out." 

 Part of me trembles with the knowledge that a proper punishment could entail any level of physical and or psychological debasement.  However, the trembling isn't from fear; far from it.  I tremble with unmitigated lust and anticipation.  No punishment meted out by Marcus can be too painful.  None, whatsoever.  My nerve endings call out for him.  And what is really, truly delightful, is that this punishment, as yet to be decided, would be in addition to what he was preparing only now to administer.  How lucky can a slave be?

Master looked at me for a few seconds.  His hands pulled out of the drawer.  Whatever toy he was going to take out, remained in the drawer.  His hands went to his side, and then he brought them to the front and folded them before his belt, as if he were cupping his balls.  Dressed in a burgundy colored long sleeve cashmere sweater, ($2,000 at Brioni) as well as his usual black Ferragamo jeans, he was exceptionally attractive today; but of course, I am biased.  

Indeed, the more I serve Marcus, the more he takes of my shaved pussy and waxed anus with his cock and his toys, the more beautiful he is.  Sometimes, I find myself, when having dinner with him in a cozy little Italian restaurant, just staring at him, wondering why he chose me and not Karen or the others to be his slave.  

My often blatant display of adoration in public has gotten me in trouble before.  Marcus feels it's a relic of my former position in society.  Marcus demands adherence to the proper protocols.  The protocols call for discretion and suppression of public displays of affection.  In other words, all typical behavior BM, Before Marcus, was forbidden.