Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
My sub usually understood the boundaries of our dynamic, but halfway through our session he had stupidly forgotten his place. It’s as if his teeny, tiny man brain needed a thorough, ruthless scrubbing to remind him of his place when he’s in my presence. I didn’t see the point in continuing with our usual type of degradation if he was just going to be a brat, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
“Knees,” I commanded, in that cold, flat tone he hated. He dropped to his knees instantly and looked up at me with those eager, pathetic eyes. “Mistress, I…”
Lesson fucking learned.
“Silence” I snapped, while stepping closer and closer into his space until the toe of my stiletto nudged his parted lips. “You spoke out of turn three times tonight. You looked at me as if you were above me, as if you forgot that every breath you take is a privilege I grant you.”
I watched the flush rise in his cheeks. The humiliation was sinking in.
“Hands behind your back,” I instructed. He obeyed, lacing his fingers together as I walked behind him. I didn’t reach for the flogger or the cuffs. Those were too merciful…too physical. He needed a psychological punishment that would linger long after the bruises faded.
“You like your mind, don’t you?” I murmured, leaning down so my lips brushed his ear. “You think your intellect makes you special. So, we are going to strip it away.” I stood up and reached into my bag, pulling out a small, heavy digital recorder and a thick leather gag.
“You are going to spend the next two hours kneeling on this hardwood floor, gagged,” I told him, watching closely as the sense of alarm flared in his eyes. “And you are going to listen to a loop of every arrogant, foolish thing you said tonight to remind you of what you actually are. A good pet knows how to sit quietly. But you? You’re a nuisance at best.”
He shook his head and a muffled whimpering sound escaped his throat. “Please, Mistress…” he pleaded. “No talking,” I said sharply, while shoving the leather between his teeth and buckling it tight at the base of his skull. I set the recorder on the low table in front of him and pressed play. The amplified sound of his own boasting echoed in the quiet room for maximum psychological torment.
“Remember how stupid your words are when you dare to think for yourself,” I whispered, as I walked toward the door. “By the time I come back, I expect you’ll have learned that you’re not to even spell your own name without my permission.”
Behind me, I heard the dull, pathetic thud of his forehead hitting the floorboards. Lesson fucking learned.
Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322
https://phonesexcandy.com/stella/