I had just spent a perfectly dreadful night, chained on my knees on a cold stone floor. The reason for this abominable situation was lying on a decidedly comfy looking bedroll, and snoring his head off for the last few hours. Was it unreasonable of me to expect a little consideration when He awoke? Some small passing interest in my comfort?

 

What actually happened is that He stood up, looked me up and down like a side of meat hanging in the market, and then said "You. Stand up. Now". The new day was already off to a fabulous start.

 

I formulated a few choice words on the impossibility of standing up while still chained on my knees, but bit them back when I realised I could stand up. The cuffs that had held me immobile while my lump of a captor slept. I climbed stiffly to my feet, and without conscious intent, my hands moved to cover my more intimate areas.

 

 

In response, He made a certain arcane gesture with his left hand, and my body flooded with occult pain.

 

 

"Ow!" I cried. "What was that for?"

 

"Modesty Unbecoming in a Slave Girl", He said. "You body belongs to me now, and all its areas are to be kept open for my inspection". I glared at Him, willing Him to drop dead on the spot. Sadly, He declined to cooperate. "Don't worry", He said. "If you forget, I shall be sure to remind you".

 

"While we are on the subject of bad behavior", He continued, "I thought I warned you not to try and escape? You spent half the night testing your bonds, don't try and deny it".

 

Well excuse me!  While He had slept and recovered Himself, I had spent the last few hours kneeling on a cold stone floor, and thanks to one of His infernal spells I spent that entire time feeling randier than I once would have believed possible. I wasn't "trying to escape" or "testing my bonds" or anything of that nature! I was simply trying to rub my legs together and gain a moments release from this infernal need which had been inflicted upon me. In what way could any of this be described as fair?

 

In my indignation, I may have made the mistake of voicing some of those sentiments out loud, an indiscretion that earned me a further shock of magical pain. He gave me a second or two to recover before continuing.

 

"Firstly", He said, "if I place you in a pose or bind you in a certain way, I expect you to maintain that posture until I tell you otherwise. In particular, if I tell you to keep your knees widely spread, I expect you to keep your knees apart. Do you understand this?"

 

I glared at the floor and nodded silently, not wishing to provoke another jolt from His pain spell.

 

"Secondly", He continued, "just as you now belong to me, so does your sexual release. Your orgasms are mine to bestow or withhold, and you are not to seek such relief without permission? Again, do you understand?"

 

This time my response was verbal and earned my twice the previous duration of pain.

 

He stepped back and studied my carefully. "I think", He said, "that if we are to make any progress, we shall have to do something about that pride of yours".

 

* * *

 

"Get dressed, and stand up straight!" He ordered. I decided I'd sooner not risk another jolt of His pain spell, so I did as I had been bid.

 

 

"Good slave", He said. "Now strip."

 

"What?" I asked.

 

"Strip. Now."

 

"But I just put my clothes on!"

 

"Indeed. And now you will take them back off. Strip!"

 

Glaring, I complied with the ridiculous order.

 

 

"Good slave. Now put your clothes back on".

 

Fuming, I did as I was bid. The next order came as no surprise at all.

 

"Now strip!"

 

"Make up your mind!" I said. "You can have me naked, or you can have me clothed, but I refuse to bear my all to you, just so you can tell me to get dressed once again!"

 

"I see you need another taste of Discipline", he said, and made that hand gesture I was learning to dread.

 

 

My world exploded in electric pain. Dimly, through the agony, I became aware that He was talking once again.

 

"You probably know that the Shock effect inflicts harm upon both the body and the mind. Which is to say that it damages health and drains magicka. What isn't so commonly known is that most shock spells, intended as they are for battle, are tuned to maximize physical harm. This spell, on the other hand emphasizes the mental and magical harm while minimizing the physical damage".

 

All of which would be a lot more interesting, I remember thinking at the time, if my skin wasn't peeling from my bones right now.

 

"Which means", He continued, "that while it probably feels as if you're being flayed alive right now, you aren't undergoing any lasting physical harm. Which means I can do this for as long as it takes for you to decide that you want to be a good little slave".

 

"Now: are you ready to behave yourself?"

 

I most certainly was! If being a good girl was what was needed to make the pain stop, then that was what I wanted. I nodded my head and muttered affirmatives through clenched teeth and I must have got the message across because the pain suddenly, blessedly, stopped.

 

"Good girl", He said. "Take a moment, catch your breath. And then strip".

 

So I did. I stripped, and I dressed and I stripped again and dressed again, over and over, the cycle punctuated only by occasional jolts of pain if I seemed to Him to be disrespectful or tardy in my obedience.

 

 

Eventually, I fell into a rhythm where my hands moved by themselves and I ceased to think about my state of dress. In my mind, states of Nakedness and Clothed began almost to blur into one, and within the repetition and routine, I began to feel a modicum of comfort.

 

Which, of course, was exactly when He called for a break.

 

* * *

 

"Once more then: strip, one last time", He said, "... and now kneel!" In my semi-deleterious state, I'm not sure whether it was that I obeyed His command, or whether I was simply compelled by my magical bondage, but once again I found myself naked and kneeling at His feet.

 

"Good girl. You've been working hard and deserve a treat". I retrospect, what happened next really should not have surprised me.

 

 

 

Stripping naked Himself, He used my mouth for his pleasure, His hand on the back of my head compelling my co-operation. He pumped a surprising amount of His seed into my mouth, with strict instructions that I swallow it all. Then, just as I expected that he must soften and withdraw, he instead renewed his assault upon my mouth and throat. I can see how this might have been a treat for Him, but I wasn't sure how this was a treat for *me*. Although I confess that I had been working hard enough that the added fluids and protein was welcome. Although that was probably just my heightens state of magically enforced arousal speaking.

 

Somewhere in between His second and third delivery of semen, he began to ruminate.

 

"You seem to be getting a little too comfortable with this exercise, and a little too quickly. I think I know what we need". He put both hands on the back of my head and pulled me tight against His groin while he pumped another consignment of ejaculate down my protesting throat and into my belly.

 

He withdrew from my mouth and began to dress. "It seems to me that you're a little too comfortable dressed in that outfit", He said, gathering up my discarded clothes and causing them to disappear inside His surprisingly capacious backpack. He continued to rummage for a while.

 

"Ah ha! Found it!" He threw me what looked like a scrap of old sacking. "Put this on", he said.

 

Well, I tried, I really did. Clearly this garment was, in fact, the remains of an actual sack and had never been intended to be worn by anyone, but somehow I arranged it so that it covered all those bits most needful of coverage while somehow failing to fall to the ground.

 

When I was done, I looked up to find Him staring at me, his face bearing an expression of mute enquiry.

 

"I do not wish to wear this", I said.

 

 

"Fair enough", he replied. "Take it off". I obeyed with some enthusiasm, buoyed up by the discovery that it was possible to make my captor see sense on some matters.

 

"And now put it back on", He said.

 

"You can't ask me to wear that", I said.

 

"And yet I just did", He replied. "Put it on".

 

"You must see that this is nothing more than an old rag", I said. "More hole than fabric, if you examine it. It's hardly fit for use as a garment".

 

"I don't understand", He said. "Your other garment was also ragged, was it not. It too had holes in it. Why is this different?"

 

"My outfit could hardly be described as ragged!" I protested. "It was ... artfully distressed! It was fashionable! It was ... expensive! You could never look at a woman wearing such an ensemble and think her too poor to afford proper clothes!"

 

He looked at me, feigning interest. "Whereas the other garment...?"

 

Oblivious to the trap being set for me, I pressed on. "The other garment is hardly deserving of the name! It fits so badly that constant readjustment is required, lest it fall to the floor! The length is barely adequate for preserving the wearer's modesty, and then only if she is very careful to keep quite, quite still, something made all the more difficulty by the constant itching and scratching of the coarse weave. Even worse, there are various holes in the cloth that render certain areas quite clearly visible, and the entire fabric is sufficiently threadbare that any sort of light serves to reveal all!".

 

He looked on with kindly curiosity. "And so your point is ...?"

 

"My point is that this fails to qualify as a suitable garment by almost every criteria imaginable! I have seen beggars that would scorn to wear this ... thing! This is something that marks its wearer as the lowest of the low! It is something that might be worn by ... by a ..."

 

"By a slave?" He said, helpfully.

 

"Yes!"

 

"Then it is fitting that you wear it. Now. Put. It. On."

 

"NO!!"

 

Which, as you might well imagine, is when my world was once again engulfed in electric fire.

 

 

Once again, He used the occasion of my pain as an opportunity to lecture.

 

"You recall, I hope, our previous discussion of the Discipline spell? I believe I mentioned that the spell was calibrated to do no physicall harm?" I glared at him through the lattice of blue-white sparks that danced across my field of vision. "I should perhaps have added that the same is not true of mental harm. In fact, prolonged exposure to the effects of Discipline can result in serious and often irreversable psychological problems. Which, of course, is one reason I prefer verbal correction whenever possible".

 

He turned and paced away, a teacher carefully considering his choice of words, my agony clenched tight in his left hand the whole time.

 

"I want you to understand my next point very clearly, and so I am going to be rather more blunt than good manners would normally allow. All I need from you is a womb, a cunt, and some way of stopping then from wandering off when my attention is elsewhere. In particular, there is absolutely nothing above your pretty little neck that I find in any way essential. Therefore, you should understand that were I, through over-exposure to the discipline spell, to burn out your cognitive functions, thereby leaving a meat husk fit for nothing but accepting semen and expelling progeny, then in a great many ways this would make my life substantially less complicated. I advise you think carefully about this."

 

"However, it is also true that I am, unusually for one of my calling, something of a sentimentalist. As such it would sadden me were such an outcome to transpire. Consequently, I am willing to make the extra effort to help you develop the skills and mindset needed to be happy in your new role. But for that to happen, I require a certain basic level of co-operation."

 

He paced back again, and then pivoted on one heel, fixed me with a glare, and unexpectedly dropped the Discipline spell.

"So which is it to be? Are you going to work with me on this", He asked, "or should I just burn out your brain and make arrangements for the care of your still living carcass?"

 

I wanted, so very much, to tell him to go hang. I wanted to scream that life as a mindless lump of meat would be infinitely preferable to being complicit in my own subjugation. I felt certain that He was bluffing, and that if confronted he would back down. However, I could not be sure this was the case, and long term mental problems or no, I had no desire at that time for a further taste of Discipline.

 

On my hands and knees, soaked in my own sweat and shaking with the after effects of pain, I mouthed a single word.

 

"Yes."

 

"Yes, what?" He said.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

And so the day proceeded as before, with only the occasional jolt of pain or "reward" to break the routine.

 

 

Eventually He stopped, stretched and yawned. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat", He said. "Get on your knees." I did so, encouraged by the tightening of the magic cuffs around my wrists and ankles.

 

 

"I'm going to take a nap", he said. "For you, the same rules apply as last time.We'll review your behavior when I awake".

 

"Oh, you can keep your clothes on tonight", He added before rolling over and starting to snore.

 

So, this is my situation: kneeling on a cold stone floor, my loins burning with the need to be touched, and my sad excuse for a garment using ,my every breath as an excuse to itch, scratch or bite at me. And when one of these factors causes me, as it almost certainly must, to shift my position in some way, it will be taken as defiance of His orders, meaning I can expect further punishment when He emerges from his comfy bedroll.

 

If that is not the most perfectly awful way to spend a night, I truly do not know what is.