Demise of the Diva

Chapter Two-3

“Put your hands behind your head!” Britta snapped.

Although dazed, Robin managed to lace her fingers at the base of her neck behind her and open her elbows the way the mistress wanted. Her t**s had almost completely popped out of the corset, and her n*****s were rock hard. Robin didn’t bother to look down at the previously marked flesh. In a moment, Britta would punish them more—marks like these were Britta’s trademark, what Robin had to put up with to get the rest of what she needed. The next day she would look in the mirror at her wounded flesh and remember being so submissively degraded. She would masturbate just thinking of the harrowing savagery. She would open her blouse to revisit her wounds, and tell herself that as bad as life was on the other side, these moments with her mistress were a private indulgence that satisfied her deeply. If she only had someone to share them with. Leslie maybe? Wasn’t that a silly idea!

Picking up the thin crop again, Britta flailed Robin’s fair flesh, making it burn and the cuts strike deep. Robin cringed with each one, hoping each was the last. When it wasn’t, she welcomed the next with a wince and tiny screech, feeling the pain rifle through her and settle deep inside her crotch. She would masturbate again soon!

With the last blow, Britta announced, dismissively, “Go now, girl. I’ve had enough of you for one night. I need my rest.”

Freed from the woman’s control, Robin hastily removed the leather bustier and returned it to the wardrobe, neatly hanging it inside while dozens of Britta’s things were still strewn about in one wild mess. Picking up her clothes, she dressed, feeling now a comforting tightness in her body. She was sore where the whip had struck; though now it was little more than a pleasant ache to carry with her. She didn’t say a word as she dressed. They never talked afterwards—an unwritten rule. In truth, she had nothing to say to the woman, her actions spoke more loudly than her words ever could.

It was midnight in the real world. The street was hazy with fog and a harsh orange light that was uncomfortable on Robin’s eyes. Even so, her mind was clear, and her body was at peace. She’d be able to sleep, and then meet Leslie in the morning.