Mixed Feelings

Sasha breath quickened as she knelt, the cold hard floor murder on her knees. She didn’t like it at all, the discomfort, the way in which the AC picked up against her exposed pussy, it’s whispering breath tickling as it passed, cooling her body to near shivering as she continued to follow her mistress’ wicked will. She’d already been here, kneeling for literal hours, blindfolded up until the mistress spoke ordering her eyes unhindered.

It was a singularly horrible experience… and yet it was the single sexiest and most invigorating thing which she’d ever done in her entire short life. Bared to the world as her mistress smiled and masturbated to the scene of her discomfort, watching with fingers buried deep in her own cunt as the other girl with skin brown as oaken bark stood to one side caressing her hair. Ordered into a discomforting stillness and held there only by the iron prison of her mistress’ will.

“You know you totally should learn how to purr, it’d make you an even better house-pet I think.” The mistress spoke thoughtfully as she tapped lightly on the side of her jaw with one finger from the hand NOT currently working its way deeper into her needy dripping cunt, her voice full of arousal, a passion which echoed itself though Sasha’s own body as she knelt there, cold on the floor; the very mark and consequence of this slavery under which she’d been placed. What the mistress enjoyed, she couldn’t help but love, even if that enjoyment came from her own abject misery. “Either way, you are doing quite a good job learning to ‘sit’.”

Sasha was being punished… In more ways than one. And yet she couldn’t help but find excitement and solace in the praise of how well she was taking said punishment. Her mixed emotions on the matter swirling in her head as she thought about just what she’d run away from in the first place, the control of her father, the heavy hand of her always drunk mother. And yet here she was, still hating those things even as she found herself intensely loving the fact they were being forced upon her. The irony of her chains choking her with both grief and joy in equal measures.

“Yes mistress… thank you mistress. I’ll try mistress” She spoke as she’d been taught, the words flowing easier as she looked at the ecstatic face which they gave her owner, swallowing sharply afterwards past the further discomfort of the single item of clothing which she’d been allowed. A single makeshift collar, fashioned from an old leather belt, wrapped about her throat and tightened to the point of discomfort; yet another reminder of the complete loss of control stemming from her submission into slavery.

She hated it passionately… she loved the way the mistress loved it around her neck. The conflict of emotions burned just to think about.

“She seems to be taking well to the lesson plan Mistress.” Leah spoke with a smile, the dark skinned woman running still running her strong fingers though her hair. “Just a few hiccups here and there, refusing to lick my cunt like you asked me to make her and all that… but I suppose since you didn’t give a direct order…”

“Mmm… getting rowdy little kitten? Maybe you should tell me now about why Leah had to ask me to order you punished? I want to hear this from your own lips.” The mistress asked, a small smile curved about her lips. Sasha shivered, this time not from the cold or the pain in her knees.

“I… went against what she said she wanted me to do…” Sasha trailed, her voice catching in her throat as a wave of the worst melancholy she’d ever felt washed over her. The rebellion which she’d show before crumbling in the face of her mistress as she explained how she’d attempted to circumvent her will. The pitiless smile of her own bid her to continue speaking to her of her own disobedience, a terrible feeling akin to dragging herself over broken glass. “I… I didn’t like it at all… the smell was making me feel sick, and I didn’t want to…”

The feeling remained with her, a queasy pit blotting out all else save the intense elation at being allowed to atone for her sin of indirect disobedience. Sasha could not help the tears as they filtered down her cheeks, tired emotionally as the warring feelings fought. She knew, bone deep, that this was the result of her mistress’ manipulations. The way in which her mind, her morality defaulted to the mistress’ approval or disapproval. It created a sick dichotomy to remember just how much she’d valued her independence, and how she’d sold it away.

Her cunt still got moist remembering the way in which her mistress had leaned over after her first night to randomly whisper in her ears just how much she’d been fucked, of how little of a choice she’d had once she’d taken that first step and followed the girl into seclusion. The sheer powerlessness of the knowledge that her choice to enter the ball freely had been nothing more than icing on the cake... there had been no plan to allow her to walk away, and absolutely nothing which she could have done in order to circumvent her slavery.

Put in her true place as nothing more than a housepet… and with even less rights than that.

She hated intensely the fact that she couldn’t hate it.

That she shivered and came at her Owner’s declaration of possession, the first true orgasm of her young life, having been left in a state at the edge of bliss until that moment certainly having contributed to the wave of release, one more rope binding her to the mistress’ powerful will.

The mistress nodded. “I see.”

The two words tolled ominous in Sasha’s ears, anticipation growing as the mistress slowly pulled her fingers from their lodging place then rose from her seat to sedately stroll her way over to the young girl’s position. With an audible *plop* wet fingers pulled loose completely, a wet string of feminine cum drooling out upon the ground.

Her mistress stood before her, tall and hungry. Sasha’s face just below the needy, smelly lips, as the sick strange scent invaded her nostrils.

“One would think…” The mistress drawled, her wet fingers sliding beneath the girl’s nose, forcing her to breathe it all in without reprieve. “… that a little stray kitten, would have a better fondness for fish.”