Date: Sat, 24 Dec 2022 14:16:02 +0000 From: ^sharper Subject: YOU KNOW HE'S SUB, DON'T YOU? - PART 83 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE. PLEASE CONTACT sharper@inorbit.com IF YOU LIKE TO PRAISE OR MOAN. SEARCH NIFTY FOR sharper@inorbit.com or use this link www.bit.ly/3SMcydH TO READ MORE ^sharp TALES ON NIFTY. REMEMBER TO MAKE YOUR DONATION TO WWW.NIFTY.ORG !! HERE :: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ YOU KNOW HE'S SUB, DON'T YOU? - PART 83 Second book : YOU BELONG TO JOBAL PART 30 - happy christmas What if I told you this was all a dream and you'd wake up soon and it'd be all it never happened and it was fine; then would you be disappointed or relieved? Both, probably. Me, I just get off on the fact (fact) that Po was a hung cute top with a heart but who had to be like this cause he didn't have any other choices in his brain. You understand that didn't you? He was a lover but he needed that ... assertion of his role and me. He was so serious. Plus that perhaps it's right that I am an addict and the stuff I've felt just leads me on to more stuff that's more of it. In which case ... Well, let's hope not, cause that's when he went full sado - "Ok let's get this over with." - and all different things ... like I don't know what, but all different things and each one was different except how it hurt - something he's grabbed to hit me with and I don't know cause I never seen but it fucking hurt so he had to stop so he walked off; came back with some gag what he stuffed in my mouth and taped - yeah he actual gaffer tape. Like in a sex video. Like he knew I'd scream or shout, and no poppers cause I was like, 'Yeah. But stop. But don't stop. But don't stop. But stop!!' Yeah? Like over and over again in my head. Like, this is all pretend, but it wasn't, except it felt like it was pretend somehow unreal. It was mad. And he told me to hold on or else and eventually he taped my arms too like strapped them to this bar on the sofa back with silver-backed gaffer (like every house has!) which felt good cause then I couldn't move, even if I had to despite myself, could I? With my arms stretched out like a crucifix and my back exposed and vulnerable and my backside spread like a sandwich with my stuff dangling down like christmas baubles and my legs shaking even not able to keep straight in case this was it - "You want this?" "Yes Sir!" - I tried to shout it through the gag but it came out stupid and probably sounded like, "PLEASE DON'T!!" or something, I think; so I was sorry cause that just made him more angry or something cause ... I mean, you must know how it is if YOU'VE been through slave training or ever trained a slave, how they keep on like, DON'T PLEASE, but it don't stop, and they're all right. They're ok! Grateful I mean, not just all right but actually gratefull. It's odd. I don't know how I felt except that if he wanted to know then I nodded my head and tried to say, 'Yes Sir!' and actually I wanted to kiss him and beg him to stop but not now and I don't know, I just wanted to let him know how much I loved him, I suppose. How I'd do anything. Anything. And he could do anything as well and whatever it was it would make me love him even more. And I wanted it cause it hurt and cause it didn't hurt enough I wanted it even more, and it still wasn't enough. Actually he was quite calm. "I've been too soft with you," he said. "That changes now!" He stood back and re-started. He was quite quiet actually, like he wasn't losing it or insane or anything but like he was the logical one, he was in control both of me and of this crazy situation. Like, he wasn't crazy; just me. Like, yeah?, 'Trust me.' He just kept on doing it ONE! and ONE! and ONE! slowly. Mainly my buttocks so ... I mean, ok, I know I deserved it and I wanted it and I had it coming but, but like without let-up so like for hours or something - well it felt like hours - non-stop - well it felt non-stop. Well he took his time. And no poppers. And when he stopped he left me like that with nothing but agonising and hyperventilating and pain and then when he started up again it was the same. And no poppers. But I'm grateful.Yes I am, yeah? Not just now. I was even then thinking, 'NO!' and, 'STOP!' - well not only - but, 'Yes more please Sir!' and, 'Thank you Sir!' as well. But I'm glad he gagged me and ties me down cause otherwise I wouldn't resist, yeah?, but I had to cause that's just the way it is when someone's beating you like that isn't it? You resist and scream and kick and stuff. So he taped my ankles as well at one point cause I'd lost the ability to hold still and keep straight (like my knees went) and for me to present a stable target to hit. I mean, that's just the way it is with a proper beating. It's normal, isn't it? I mean you're probably getting off on this but I was soft and so was he I'm pretty sure cause he didn't fuck me and at no point did he like want me to do anything else. But he did fondle me continually, in between, to just check me out ("Yeah, that's hot ...") - so I don't know, but it was all for the establishment of a fact, I suppose, that me being stupid would be responded to with violence ... I think that's what point he was making. I don't know what point he was making in actual fact. I just wanted to be good for his for good. He walked off several times and I was breathing snot through my nose cause my mouth was blocked up and I was just ... actually I don't know what I was. When he came back I would do anything but I was strapped and I couldn't do anything. I was getting cold - not that it bothered me - cause it was hot but the morning hadn't warmed up yet and I was stuck like this like with no clothes on and the sunshine still hadn't come on and he was somewhere and didn't come back. Like if he wanted breakfast he must'a made it himself. I couldn't tell. He just came back and beat me and then all quiet and then came back and beat me and then all quiet and then back and then quiet; and each time it was to hurt me more until he was I don't know what he was. Tired perhaps. Satisfied? I don't know. My Master. My Owner. My Love. I was exhausted, stuck like this funny position (called the 'position-without-a-name' I'd'a thought?) and my back ached and my legs ached and my arms ached and my neck ached and my back was in pain and my legs were in pain and my backside hurt like it had been surgically removed and stitched back. So I WAS sorry; but it was pure, wasn't it? 'Now what do you want Sir?' I thought - even said 'Sir' in my thoughts now! - and I thought it eagerly, eager to do whatever he wanted, eager to know what it was. But in pain. But I couldn't move or say anything. I was confused - I admit that. "What you gonna be like when you're an old man?" he said, all of a sudden, this voice out of nothing, his voice out of nowhere; I didn't even know he was standing behind me there: suddenly I realised he was back in the room. I don't know how long he had been like that, watching me? Or not watching me? Or what. His hands touched me, stroking my frightened ballsack and my dangling willy and then like just caressing my red-hot bottom, my sore back and the hurts on the backs of my thighs ... I liked that ... Then he said, or sort of talk-sang, he said - he was sort of walking about and swunged some sort of whip at me, like randomly cutting my back - "Don't; don't tell me; Don't tell me your dreams; I don't want to hear." Yeah! That was the words to this old number from the 1995 or whenever! I couldn't speak, cause the gag, so, no, I didn't tell him my dreams, obviously, did I? But I think he was playing with his phone cause then this same song started cast to the speaker. I don't know where he got it from - some guy singing to a girl as usual - he didn't usually play music. But he played it and we both just sort of listened to it - me taped to the sofa and him ... somewhere else - and it kind of droned on the way old music does and I thought ... 'What does it mean? He's obviously, like, it's significant or something and I should get it, but what it means or something but ... I don't even know what it means ... Except it does mean, something ... It does mean something ...' He was out of sight and nowhere, somewhere behind me - at one point I felt his hand on my arse, or in my arse, fondling me and stroking my crack, squeezing my cheeks and gripping me like a piece of fruit - and then the music faded out ... "Yeah. 'Don't tell me your dree-eeamss-ssai-i I don't want to hear' ..." he sang - I mean, he didn't sing it but he did sort of like, yeah talk the song like it was something sort of funny, but not funny. "... You want my dick," he said, "but you're not willing to pay the price, are you?" - as though that was the words to the song (which it wasn't, obviously). He must'a put his tracksuit on from where they was hanging up, cause he stood behind me and held my waist, at one point, and pushed his dick against me but it was through his clothes, I could feel it. So he had dressed. He caressed my bum and felt me up, but like I was his favourite. But all I could do was let him do what he wanted, cause I couldn't move a thing - though I did get hard once more cause he was fondling my junk all free-hanging and stroking my hole up and feeling my backside. Cause it was nice, like Christmas. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ END OF YOU KNOW HE'S SUB, DON'T YOU? - PART 83