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Aria

You Asked For It | Tuesday April 12, late at night

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The three-story manor on Pall Mall that Juliana had rented was more beautiful in the spring than it had been in the winter. Crisp new leaves were growing on the trees and the bushes along the circular drive bloomed with multicolored flowers. Even at night, their bright hues could be seen if one carried a lantern. Their pleasing fragrance was strong upon the cool breeze. The plain red brick building was bathed in moonlight, making it seem both eerie and beautiful. Candles flickered in a few of the higher windows, but all of the others were dark.

 

Inside, the self-styled princess put the finishing touches on her preparations, a wicked smirk on her face as she waited for her highly anticipated guest to arrive.

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He was only a little late, Charles assured himself, little enough that it fit as part of their game. It gave Juliana cause to be displeased with him, and that would make things fun. Anticipation coiled hotly in his belly, and he could feel a hungry smile curving his lips.

(He would have to douse that soon, of course, for it did not fit his role, but for now he could not help himself. It seemed an age of the world since he had last been with his Venus and he felt no shame in admitting that he had missed her.)

He had made no concession to the late hour or the breeze beyond donning his justacorps, today a rich carmine. After a sedentary Easter, spent mostly indoors, he felt the need to show he could, even if only to himself. The thought was worth a self-mocking snort.

He took a moment to appreciate the effect of the moonlight wreathed mansion. It looked almost fey by night, which Charles deemed wholly appropriate. Quickening his step, and shaking his head at his boyish eagerness, he hastened to the door.

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Before Charles could knock, the door was opened by a cloaked and hooded figure in white, carrying a single white candle in a golden holder. The mysterious figure … who was not as tall as Juliana … said nothing but stepped aside so that he could enter, if he chose. From the doorway, he would be able to see another flickering light in the foyer.

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Charles arched an eyebrow. This was unexpected. He flicked an assessing glance over the hooded figure, looking for any hint of their identity or some clue as to what might be going on.

She took Danby's chits in, but she said she was sending them away for the night...

There was nothing for it but to advance he decided with a mental shrug. He gave a quick smile and a nod to the doorkeeper and pressed on.

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The light flickering in the foyer was coming from another candle held by a hooded figure who looked identical to the first.  The second figure shut the door. Both of them moved in front of Charles. Without a single word, they set their candles on a table.  One of them began undoing his cravat. The feminine hands indicated that the figure was a woman and it was made clear as her cloak swayed with her movements, revealing enticing flashes of a shapely nude form. Glimpses of the other woman’s equally lovely body could be seen between the openings of her cloak as she walked around him and started pulling on the sleeves of his justacorps.

 

~*~

 

At the end of the foyer was a staircase leading to a second floor balcony that ran from wall to wall. Juliana stood upstairs in the shadows, watching the scenario below her with a smirk on her face. She doubted that Charles had expected to be greeted by two nude women who wished to undress him. The phony princess had hired them from a brothel run by a madam called Hortense and they had arrived at the mansion shortly after she had sent her three unofficial wards to an inn early in the afternoon. She had given them their cloaks and taught them their roles while playing the part of Charles herself.  One thing had led to another and the three women had ended up romping between the sheets with the two of them until it was time for dinner. 

 

The whores had been instructed only to undress him and not to touch him intimately. That was her job. They were also to leave his eye patch on, because she rather liked it. This was an elaborate prelude to the pleasure Juliana had in store for Charles tonight. Would he allow the whores to disrobe him, she wondered?  It was likely that he would realize that it was all a part of her game.

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Whores, Charles decided, given their obvious comfort with their state of near-undress. Juliana had clearly gone to extravagant lengths preparing for this. 

But what, exactly, is this?

Whatever it was, though, (and he eagerly awaited the moment of revelation, anticipation coursing hot through him) it would have been churlish not to play his part as best he could. And that, it seemed, meant allowing himself to be undressed. 

Well, I've never had any objections to being disrobed, particularly by beautiful women...

Speaking of which, it would have been as gauche to ignore the flashes of enticingly bared flesh revealed as the two women worked as it would have been to gawk at them, and so Charles paid appropriately restrained admiration. They were both well worth looking at, and he grinned playfully at the pair.

"I don't suppose you can give me a hint as to what awaits, hmm?" he asked warmly.

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Neither of the hooded women answered Charles’ question. They didn’t even acknowledge that he had spoken, but continued to undress him. As they removed each piece of his ensemble, they folded it carefully and set it on a chair behind the door. Their robes continued to shift with their movements, giving him more peeks of their delectable bodies.

 

When he was completely nude, they gently pushed  him so that he was on his hands and knees. One of them beckoned him forward while the other slapped his arse. Leaving him to figure out what he was supposed to do, they strolled to the foot of the staircase, their hips swaying seductively. Then they turned around, and beckoned him, their gestures perfectly synchronized. Up the staircase they went and beckoned him again.

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Posted (edited)

"No, I thought as much," Charles murmured, accepting the silence as his answer, and laughed. He had not expected that they would offer any reply, and was in fact mildly impressed that they gave no reaction at all. For a moment he toyed with the idea of trying to force one from them. But no, he decided, he was all together too eager to see where this was leading.

It was leading to intriguing places it seemed. Being stripped was one thing, but being forced to his knees was quite another. He went without resistance, still enjoying the game, but Juliana's attendants (would it be appropriate to call them priestesses? he wondered irreverently) were not satisfied with that. He gasped and jolted slightly as he was struck, a feeling another man might call shame coiling through him, warm and deliciously erotic. He was beginning to show it too, he realised, and the feeling redoubled. He swallowed, suppressed a shiver, and crawled up the staircase as he was bid.

Edited by Charles Audley

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If the two hooded figures noticed that Charles was rising to the occasion, they did not show it as they watched him crawl up the stairs. When he reached the landing, they moved to the right side of the hall and again beckoned to him in unison. At the end of the corridor, they opened a finely carved door (no different than the others he had passed) and indicated that he should precede him inside. The room was unlit and when the door shut behind him, it was pitch-black.

 

He would hear robes rustling past him, moving farther into the chamber. Two candles upon the floor were lit simultaneously. He would be able to see something glittering in the wide space between them. Two more were lit, then two more. The candles were clearly arranged in a circle and when the last pair was lit in front of where Charles knelt, Juliana was revealed in all her glory, standing as still as a statue.

 

She was dressed in a peplos of purple silk that hinted at her luscious curves beneath. It was gathered at her tiny waist with a wide golden belt and pinned along her arms with sparkling gold fibulae. Her white-blonde hair was arranged artfully over both shoulders, flowing to her waist in lustrous curls. Gold bands glittered upon her upper arms and forearms and a gorgeous golden necklace encircled her neck. Around her forehead she wore a golden diadem. One hand was held at her side and the other behind her.

 

Looking ever inch the goddess she portrayed, she gracefully inclined her head to look at Charles, but said nothing. The two whores stood on each side of her, just outside of the circle of candles.

 

What would Charles do now?

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Charles had always appreciated spectacle, and Juliana had orchestrated a truly spectacular display. Everything, her costume, the candles, the silent priestesses (it was appropriate, he had decided) and most importantly she herself, reinforced the dynamic of their game and made it all too easy to fall into his role. He had told her once that she made it natural to think that his rightful place was as her slave, and the eroticism of that knowledge had him shivering, the feeling spiced further by the fact that there were others present to witness his abject submission.

"Domina," he half-moaned in acknowledgement of her nod, and, unable to contain himself, crawled forward to prostrate himself before his Venus and kiss her feet.

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There was just enough room for Charles to crawl between the two front candles. He might feel their warmth on his bare skin as he passed them. Juliana knew that he would not speak when they were playing these roles until she gave her permission, and as his eyes were downcast as a proper slave’s should be, she had no idea what he thought of her elaborate pageantry. She could see that he had already risen for the occasion, and the teasing glimpses of his cock as he moved forward sent ripples of pleasure and anticipation through her body. The fact that he had no idea what she was had planned increased those sensual stirrings.

 

As did his warm breath on her feet as Charles kissed them. Since he couldn’t see her face, she smirked as she watched him shivering, her eyes straying to his well-formed arse. If she leaned forward just a bit …

 

“You’re late!” she suddenly roared. The hand she held behind her back shot forward and the whip he had given her for Christmas snapped through the air and sharply struck one of his arse cheeks. “Do you not know better than to keep your goddess waiting?” The whip crackled against his other cheek. “Speak, slave, and explain yourself!”

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Crack!

Charles shivered and gasped as the crop drew twin lines of fire across his arse. It stung fiercely, and for a moment he allowed himself to savour the sharp sensation. It contrasted and enhanced the arousal Juliana's constructed tableau had inspired in him, and already he could feel the warm, floaty feeling he played these games for creeping at the edge of his mind. It was a little like being drunk, only better. More focused.

But he could not let that sweet fog carry him off yet. Venus was angry. He cringed back, more from her words than the crop, and pressed himself further into the floor. 

"I, I am sorry Domina," he managed after a moment, swallowing and drawing in a shuddering breath as he composed himself. "I cannot explain myself. There is no adequate excuse. I can only beg that you show mercy to your wretched slave, and allow me to earn your forgiveness. Please Domina. I will do anything, suffer any punishment, if you will but allow me to continue to serve."

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Juliana got as much pleasure from striking Charles as he did from being struck. Hie bare arse looked delectable with the red stripes from the crop adorning them. Having played this role many times before, she knew how to apply the perfect pressure without drawing blood or leaving scars. It would  sting for a few days and cause him a bit of pain when he sat down ... which would, most likely, remind him of her.

 

“You can’t explain yourself?” Her voice was softer now, but still full of rage. “You think that I am so pleased with you that I would forgive you for loitering around when you’re supposed to be serving me?” Her bare feet were silent as she walked forward, bent down, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling until Charles was able to look into her face. “Do I look pleased to you? You have mocked me! I should cast you away from me forever for your insolence!” Letting the hunk of hair go, she moved back into the circle of candles. “Until now, you have served me so well that I planned to bestow a gift upon you. Now, I am not so sure you deserve it. Convince me that I’m wrong … without saying a word.”

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Charles quailed back from Juliana's displeasure, the very image of abject, shamed despondence. He would have flattened himself to the floor if not for her hand tangled in his hair. Caught as he was, he could do nothing but whimper pathetically and stew in the shame and humiliation of his failings. It was an unutterably exquisite torment.

He would have liked a moment to gather his breath and his wits when she released him, but there was no time for such indulgences. His Venus had offered him the glimmer of an opportunity to redeem himself, and so thorough was her domination of him that Charles would rather be scourged than hesitate to seize it.

Head still bowed (for he did not dare to look up), he pressed his lips once more to her bare feet, paying worshipful homage as he silently worked to convince her of both his repentance and his worthiness. He was thorough in his attentions, making sure to have pressed kisses to every last inch of Juliana's feet before daring to let his lips track north.

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Juliana enjoyed the way Charles tried to pull away from her. He knew that she would never truly hurt him, yet he played his part so well that she could almost believe he was deeply humiliated for disappointing her.  Idly, she wondered if he had timed his late arrival on purpose, longing for this very outcome. His whimpers intensified the desire within her and she smirked at him wickedly before letting him go.

 

Perhaps he was intent on disappointing her again so that he could feel her whip kiss his flesh once more. Charles spent what seemed like an eternity worshiping her feet. Juliana's ardor began to give way to boredom. She felt like lashing his back but true torment was not giving one what one wanted. Her hand remained at her side and she reacted not at all.

 

His lips began to move upward. Had he been teasing her by paying so much attention to her feet? Her skin tingled beneath his kisses, and the dwindling flame within her rekindled. Still she did not react, curious to see how far Charles would go to convince her that he deserved another chance to serve the goddess of love.

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Charles was altogether too absorbed in his task to sense his danger, striving to make clear his abject submission to Juliana's will. It was less about the physical sensation than the spectacle of his debasement, the illustration of his place beneath his Venus. He had miscalculated there, but, focused as he was and unwilling to break character and look Juliana in the face without express permission, he could not tell.

 He nuzzled plaintively at her calves as his lips traced a meandering path up along the sinfully smooth flesh towards her thighs. He tarried there, not to tease, but again out of a sense of worshipful thoroughness. The lack of response was... disconcerting, and the small corner of his mind that was still wholly himself appreciated the artistry of that torment on multiple levels. The feeling he could only vaguely identify as nervousness was as delicious as it was unfamiliar.

At last, though, his servile diligence was satisfied and he moved on to his ultimate goal, placing his lips at the juncture of her thighs and setting to with fervour.

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It was difficult to remain still while so many alluring sensations careened through her. Juliana willed he legs not to tremble and mastered it only with all the willpower she possessed. Though she’d had many lovers in her life, both male and female, Charles was able to satisfy her better than most. Perhaps it was because he took such utter joy in being humiliated and played his part so well that it was easy to believe that he truly was her humble slave. Or maybe it was the way each touch of his lips left a trail of fire in their wake. His breath was a hot breeze against her skin, sensuous and arousing.

 

She could feel her inner muscles contracting already in anticipation of feeling him inside her. Perhaps she should let him bring her to climax. There would be more to come for both of them. No, he needed to be punished first, and this was like a reward.

 

His lips moved steadily upward. Juliana bit her lip to keep from moaning. This had to stop before it went too far. Just as he reached the apex of her thighs, she grabbed his hair again and pulled him away. “You have not yet earned the right to drink at my fountain,” she hissed. “How dare you take such liberties with your goddess.! Prostrate yourself before me while I think of a suitable way to teach you your place.”

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Charles swallowed a whimper and cringed as Juliana hauled him away by his hair. It was deeply jarring, to be dragged from the soft warmth of her thighs and the tranquil contentment of pleasing his Venus to the stinging coldness of her ire. He wanted to apologise for his failing, but he had been told not to speak and so he pressed himself flat to the floor to await his punishment. He trembled, and could not tell if it was in dread or excitement.

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Juliana smirked as she looked down on Charles, lying flat on the floor at her command. She thought about leaving him there for an hour or two. He would probably like that form of punishment, and it would give her time to get herself back under control, but it would be insufferably boring for both of them.

 

The idea was too enticing to resist, but she would not leave him that long. In light of his disobedience, she was going to change her plans a bit and needed to rearrange some things in her bedchamber. The self-styled princess had returned to Sweden during recess because she knew of a shop there that catered to the kind of sex play that she and Charles enjoyed. They even made items to the customer’s specifications and the owners knew her well. She had brought quite a few things back with her that she planned to use tonight.

 

“You will lie there and contemplate your transgressions and how you can better serve your goddess. My priestesses will stand on either side of you to make certain that you do not move.” The two whores didn’t have to be told what to do and soon they were standing at Charles’ sides, silent and still in their white robes.

 

Juliana strode toward the door that led to her bedchamber, her bare footsteps a bit louder than usual because she wanted him to know that she was leaving. She pulled open the door, stepped inside, and then closed it firmly behind her. As she set reorganizing,  her body hummed enticingly as she imagined Charles face-down on the floor waiting for her. What, she wondered, was going on in his mind? Was it painful lying on a rigid cock?

 

It took about a half hour before she was satisfied. Juliana walked back into the sitting room that she had transformed into her temple. Gliding over to Charles, she lifted one foot and gently traced the marks on his arse and then moved it further up his back while fluttering her toes. At a nod, the whores went back to their original places by the circle of candles. “You may rise to your knees now, slave, and I shall give you a task to perform for me.”

 

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Charles waited in silence, face pressed to the floor, ignoring the priestesses flanking him. He was aware, but only dimly, of the stinging of his arse, a growing pain in the muscles of the small of his back, and his achingly hard cock. Those were unimportant. He... floated, almost, thoughts wrapped in a thick, gentle fog, insulating him from the discomfort and what a small, distant part of him insisted was humiliation. What mental focus he could muster was directed solely to contemplating his failings, his presumption. He cringed internally.

Time passed, though he paid no heed, sinking deeper into the fog. It took him a moment to notice the touch of Venus's foot upon his back, and a longer one to process her words. He rose to his knees slowly, his back protesting after however long he had spent prostrated on the floor. He kept his gaze low, and swallowed the urge to ask her bidding. He had not been given leave to speak.

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What was he thinking while I was gone? Has he learned his lesson about being punctual when I send for him? Juliana herself could forgive Charles for such a small transgression, but Venus couldn’t. Venus must never be kept waiting and she must have perfect obedience from her slaves or they would be cast from her presence into eternal disgrace. The pretend princess did relish the role he had cast her in last winter. This wasn’t the first time she had portrayed the Goddess of Love, but it was by far the most satisfying.

 

She watched as Charles rose to his knees. After a half hour of lying face down, his muscles were probably protesting. He kept his eyes lowered and didn’t say a word, waiting for her instructions. “I find myself in need of refreshment.” Her voice was low and seductive, hoping to paint images in his mind of various types of sensuous refreshment she might wish for.

 

“There is a tray containing an assortment of pastries on a table near the fireplace, along with a carafe of wine and a glass. Stand up and bring them to me.” One of the whores fetched a small table from in back of the tableau and set it before Juliana. The other one brought out a second table as well as a basin full of water and a clean cloth. “You will set the tray on the empty table. You will wash your hands in the basin. Then you will pour me a glass of wine and feed me."

 

 She sat down upon her throne ... an ordinary chair draped with cloth-of-gold ... within the circle of candles.  “If you please me, I will bestow upon you the gift that I planned to give you before you disappointed me."

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Charles blinked slowly, trying to cudgel his wits to life and bring himself out of the warm fog enveloping him. It took a moment to realise that Venus had instructed him to stand. He straightened, starting to rise, and almost staggered as the stiff muscles of his legs and back protested at the motion. The beginnings of a hiss of discomfort escaped him before he could trap it behind his teeth. He flinched in shame. His cramps and aches were immaterial next to the chance to serve his goddess and make up for his failings.

He moved swiftly but stiffly to fetch the tray, trying to force life back into his limbs with sheer will. Blood was starting to flow again, at least, and so he moved with something that at least resembled his usual flowing stride on the return trip. His mind was sharpening, too, coming out of his fugue now that he had a task to focus on. He set the tray down and washed his hands with brisk, efficient motions, before pouring a generous glass of wine and setting it before Venus. He paused for a bare moment, in case she wished to give him further instruction, and offered her a pastry.

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Juliana could tell that Charles was in a lot of pain as he stood up. Maybe I left him too long, she thought with a pang of guilt. His muted hiss of discomfort made her wince. This was supposed to be a pleasurable night for him, not one of agony. Unless he enjoyed the pain. She knew he liked being spanked from the last time she had invited him to her manor.

 

He seemed to recover quickly enough, carrying out her instructions perfectly. She picked up the glass of wine he set in front of her, noticing how he paused before offering her a pastry. “Lift it to my lips,” she instructed. When he had done so, she began to nibble on it slowly and seductively until she reached his fingers. Grabbing his wrist, she held it in place while she thoroughly licked his fingers.

 

“Another,” she demanded as she took a sip of wine. After she had consumed three of them, licking his fingers each time, she sat back and smiled. “You have done well. I believe you deserve a reward.”

 

Juliana held her hand out to one of her ‘priestesses,’ who gave her a silky black scarf. Standing up, she walked toward Charles, her hips swinging sensuously. “Remain still.” Moving behind him, she tied the scarf over his eye so that he wouldn’t be able to see what she did next.

 

The other ‘priestess’ brought out two long boxes that had been hidden behind the drapery. She opened one and admired its contents for a moment. The collar had been made to her specifications. It was fashioned of black leather and had sharp silver studs on the front and sides so that Charles would not be touch it.  He could unbuckle it from the back if he really wanted to be free of it, but she didn’t think it would. It also had a large golden ring hanging from the front and back where a leash could be hooked attached, depending on whether she wanted him upright or on his knees.

 

Juliana picked it up and fastened it around Charles neck, making certain that it wasn’t too loose nor too tight. Then she stepped in front of him and plucked the blindfold from his face. “There,” she said with satisfaction. “Now you belong to me forever. Do you want to see how it looks on you?”

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Charles swallowed a groan as Venus flicked her tongue over his fingers. After everything else, it felt unbearably, exquisitely erotic. He had not expected it, though he should have, he acknowledged. He knew well that his goddess liked to tease. He took a breath to gather himself and resumed his task, the small part not entirely subsumed in his role savouring the frankly delicious mounting tension.

That tension only grew as Venus pronounced that he had earned a reward. It was not for him to comment or act one way or the other, so he bowed his head and remained still, as he had been bid. The blindfold surprised him, though, and he only barely fought down a shiver as Venus slipped it over his eye.

But that, and the licking of his fingers, paled compared to what came next. There was something indescribable in being collared, and he could not stop the full-body twitch that wracked him. He was achingly, embarrassingly hard, he realised, still quivering. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed, wallowing in the feeling of the leather bound around his throat.

He blinked as the blindfold was removed, and knelt.

"Thank you, Domina," he whispered, voice hoarse, "and if you would permit it, yes, I would like to see how it looks."

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Juliana had purposefully not eaten much at dinner so that she would truly enjoy the pastries that Charles fed her. There hadn’t been much time for sitting down to a proper meal anyway. Perhaps if she hadn’t decided to taste the delights of her 'priestesses', there would have been, but she didn’t regret that pleasurable interlude. She noted how he reacted to the licking of his fingers. Maybe he was envisioning her licking another part of his anatomy, which had already risen to the occasion.

 

There was a limit to how long she could make him wait, but she knew how well he could keep control of himself from their previous encounter. The sight of his rigid cock sent waves of arousal through her own body. She had learned to control her own desires, also, from playing both dominant and submissive roles.

 

Charles followed her instructions well and showed no reaction at all to the blindfold. However, when she fastened the collar around his neck, Juliana felt his entire body twitch in surprise and … judging from the condition of his cock … pleasure. I’m really going to have to do something about that soon.

 

She had not asked him to kneel but she assumed he had done so in gratitude. Her voice hardened slightly. “I would not have asked if I would not permit it.” Deciding to keep him on his knees (and his hands), she opened the second box and removed a leash made of shiny silver links with a black leather looped handle. She attached it to the back of his collar and led him into her bedroom.

 

Candles flickered on the floor and on tables. Sparkling golden cloth had replaced the usual curtains around the bed and they were currently closed. She led Charles over to a beautifully carved full-length mirror. Both his image and her own were reflected in it. “Do you like it?” she asked.

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Posted (edited)

Charles said nothing, cringing a little at the tone of Venus's voice, fearful he had once again disappointed her. That fear did not last long, subsumed by a wave of wonderfully shameful arousal as she clipped his leash into place and led him away. He shivered and started to crawl.

The golden cloth was new, he noted upon entering her bedchamber, but that was a distant, unimportant observation. His attention was focused on the mirror.

"I like it very much Domina," he whispered, preening with conscious vanity, admiring the fit, and the contrast between the leather of the collar and the silver studs. He cocked his head, his usual self surfacing just a little.

"It suits me, I think."

Edited by Charles Audley

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Juliana admired the image in the mirror … she holding the end of the leash looking gorgeous in her peplos of purple silk and Charles on his knees beside her, adorned only in the collar that proclaimed him her pet, or perhaps her possession. I should have our portrait painted like this, she thought, though I doubt he would ever agree.

 

The collar did suit Charles and he wore it with pride.

 

A little too much pride. When she saw him preening, she wondered if he was doing it just for the sake of more punishment. “You dare show vanity in front of your goddess? Have you not learned by now that I like my slaves to be humble?”

 

She called for one of her ‘priestesses’ to bring her riding crop. “You will receive ten lashes for your arrogance.” In truth, she loved his arrogance, but in his current role, it was inappropriate.  Moving behind him, she bent her knees and swung the whip low so that it once again bit into the flesh of his arse. Charles would be able to see what she was doing in the mirror and know when each strike was coming.

 

“Count each lash for me,” she instructed and continued until all ten had been delivered.  They were hard enough to sting but didn't break the skin or leave permanent marks.

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Charles cringed again, slipping easily back into his servile persona in response to the anger in the voice of Venus. He meekly bowed his head to the floor and shivered, saying nothing.

In truth, the pretence was growing difficult to maintain. He would never claim to enjoy pain, but there was something... clean about it. It stripped away your defences, removed distance, and left you focused and utterly present in the moment, and the anticipation of that wonderful cleansing burn suffused him. His shiver had had nothing to do with fear.

And that is to say nothing of the delicious contrast...

He almost smiled.

Perhaps I do enjoy it, come to think of it.

He drew a deep breath, and lost it immediately in a shuddering gasp that had nothing to do with pain as Venus started his punishment.

"One, Domina," he managed in a hoarse whisper, counting strikes as he had been commanded.

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