Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

Beauty and Her Beast Ch. 02

... like that. And power with so little guilt, power from the place she gives it to me, coming to me from someone like her, it makes me feel more powerful. Layers and layers of power, to use her type of descriptive, romantic language. We're so entwined we're even starting to talk like one another. She sighs, looks beseechingly, hungrily, starry-eyed with love. Loves me while I manipulate and hurt her. So of course, I squeeze her bruised tits some more.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" Of course it does, but I want to hear it from her.

"Yes, Sir, it hurts when you do that," she replies, breathless and in pain, but still very polite and proper. A good little girl. Jess said that her parents told her they only had to instill a lesson once, that she learned to obey very quickly, even as a child. So she already knows how I want her answer, and picked up that lesson on our first day of training her. Such a natural submissive. I'm surprised when I see a slight look of wonder on her face, a new reaction.

"Too much?"

"No, Sir, I just realized that I haven't even thought about the outside world until right now, Sir, and the thought startled me..."

"Ah, that's why you had that look on your face. Neither did I, kitten, until you reminded me just now. You've taken up all my time and attention." Nor do I want us to think of it. I can't remember any time I'd had a vacation as all-consumingly thrilling and fun, with all of this control and power to soothe my little anxieties and ...

... make me forget everything but this. It comforts me to look at her, at what she'll let me do to her, and how much she loves me while I hurt her. So I suppress the flutter of anxiety by pinching and twisting one of the stripes I've painted onto her ass. Loving her makes me feel soft and vulnerable, and that softness in turn makes me want to take back control and become hard again through hurting her. Instead of softening me as love so often does for men, my love makes me harder, more cruel. That caning and whipping she's taken for me...

"How do you like your new marks?" I growl at her, and I pinch another when she takes a second too long in answering, training her to absolute obedience.

"Thank you for the marks, Sir. They feel so good," she says, moaning.

I pet her head, like I would a kitten, rubbing her behind her left ear. Her reaction startles me: she arches her head toward my hand, nuzzling and rubbing against it. Like a real cat would. Distress flickers across her face.

"What's the matter?"

"Thank you, Sir. How did you know?"

"I can see it on your face. I don't think you realize how expressive your face is," I smile, pleased at how easily I can read her, but also comforting her with my smile. She's an open book, her emotions written all over her face, making her easier for me to manipulate and control.

"I was going to act like a little kitten, I wanted to rub my head against your hands because I wanted to please you, Sir,"

"Oh, is that why?"

"I - ...