RemoteUser
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Joined: 5/10/2011
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Well since you asked nicely, here you go. I can't promise to update this regularly, but I will make an effort to. (Life creeps in the way at times.) Please offer any comments or criticisms; all are appreciated. I will also entertain suggestions, though I cannot say I will carry them out. There is nothing lost through effort, though.
For your pleasure, then.
* * * * *
Her continued to feed her small spoonfuls, keeping the spoon in her mouth a moment after each morsel was done, easing it out gently. He did not tease her but simply fed her, quietly, intimate. When the last bit was gone he resumed tending to the ugly welt that marred her forehead.
She watched his every move, tensing without meaning to, expecting him to say more. He did not.
When he set the compress aside, folding it neatly, near the bowl from which he had fed her, he smiled down at her. The gesture made her flinch. It set a deep cold stab of fear in her gut.
He did speak, then. "I have tended to your wound. Fed you." He paused, and his lips parted as though to speak again. He did not.
"Thank you." Her voice was still dull, limp, even as her body flinched again at her own words. He smiled and nodded his head, and warmth ran through her, accompanied with nausea.
"This is the beginning." He stood, fixing his eyes on hers, though her naked body lay prone and uncovered. "Basic appreciation. From that, all things may grow." He reached behind her, pressing a raised firm pillow under her head. He had done this before. She knew what would happen next, and regretted her words twofold.
Seeing recognition in her eyes, he chuckled. Still staring into her eyes, he reached down and opened his trousers, letting them fall to reveal the erection beneath. He fondled himself with one hand.
"This is not a punishment," he told her. She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears forming. He kept talking. "This is a choice. You know what is expected.
Drink what you are given, and be thankful."
She shook her head, the tears flowing freely now. She felt his gaze and tried to will herself to stop, but her chest wrenched and a sobbing moan came from her.
"You will drink," he assured her. "One thing or another. Which will it be? I give you the choice, but if you do not accept my offer, I shall choose for you."
The last time he had pissed over her face, splashing hot, smelling sickly sweet and acrid. She had clamped her mouth shut but he had pulled her hair, and in the end, she drank.
It was filthy. Humiliating. Yet giving him the satisfaction of not accepting the other choice let her stomach and conscience agree.
She did not want this, did not want...
She sensed his hand moving towards her, knowing it would grab her hair, and she murmured.
"No. Please."
He was rubbing himself faster now. Trembling, she opened her eyes with a pleading look. His cock was harder, the tip reddening.
She opened her mouth.
He leaned in closer. Her head pressed back into the pillow. This was not what she wanted, but she could not take the humiliation again. Her mouth stayed open.
He pressed closer still, until she could smell his musk, saw his precum, and knew he would finish soon. Trying not to shake, she let her tongue poke out. Let him finish and be done with it.
His body shook and he spoke in his quiet voice, coupled with a hiss, "Yes. You understand. Good. Drink, drink it all..."
The thick cum shot warm and heavy over her tongue, into her mouth. It had a salty taste. She forced her jaw to stay open, until the last string dripped down onto her neck. She kept her eyes on his as she pressed her mouth shut and swallowed hard, ridding herself of the taste as quickly as she could.
His arms shook slightly as he pulled his trousers up, covered his cock as it hung down, still half hard. He smiled widely down at her.
"You made a choice that pleases me, and so as you said to me, I will say to you: thank you." His fingers drew a caress across her cheek, and she shuddered.
"Basic consideration," he murmured. "I will not use the chloroform again; you need to keep your food down. I will let you fall asleep on your own. You will be in the cage again when you wake, and have time to consider the choice you made here, and the things we have shared.
I will return then, and we will continue. This is only one step upon a long road."
He turned from her and the lights went out. She was left shackled to the table in the dark, his words in her head because nothing else would enter her mind.
She listened to his fading footsteps, and she quietly cried herself to sleep.
_____________________________
There is nothing worse than being right. Instead of being right, then, try to be open. It is more difficult, and more rewarding.
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Patience - 
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