told me to do. I didn’t know why he wanted me to paint my scars with cream and fruit, but I knew I shouldn’t question him. Everything he makes me do is for my own good.
My skin pricked with his eyes on me as I carefully dipped the strawberry into the cream in the bowl and began painting my scars, slowly and deliberately. My eyes watched my movements in the trifold mirror from the vanity he’d placed me in front of. The vanity was from my room, but the bench was in his. I started with my neck first, covering all those ugly marks I so hated, before moving to my collarbone and then my shoulders.
I remember how I got them. How my old Master would chain me to the bed and let the whip rip across my back. Occasionally it would break skin, but that’s not what made the scars, it was the tips of the braided tails. In the beginning, when I wasn’t perfect, he’d attach the punishment spurs. They’d stick into my skin and when he pulled back… I closed my eyes, hating the memory.
The second I shut my eyes, I felt Isaac’s strong hand between my legs and his tongue licking along the faint bit of cream painted over my scars.
I gasped with pleasure at the sensation, reveling in the feel of his warm wet mouth, and had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck and keep him in place. I knew I could only accept what he gave me, and nothing more.
He moved up to my neck, kissing away the cream, sucking on my neck.
Isaac continued kissing and sucking on my neck until all the cream was gone, and when he pulled back I was so fucking out of breath. I’d never experienced having food literally licked off my body, and the sensation of it had been incredible. The places where he licked me felt alive, tingling with sexual energy from his hungry lips and tongue. God, I had felt so good.
“Master,” I breathed, panting, my chest heaving and my pussy clenching uncontrollably. Seriously, I almost came just from that. “More. Please.”
Isaac responded by grinning at me and standing tall in front of me. “Be careful what you wish for, kitten.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant until he walked away and came back with a buzzing object. A huge fucking vibrator. Grinning, he placed it on the bench, making the tip of the head barely touch my pussy lips and clit. I instantly shivered at the sensation, so turned up already and wanting so badly to cum.
Smack!
I cried out from the pain and pleasure stinging my ass as Isaac drew back the riding crop he’d picked up from the side of the bench.
“You’re not to move,” he told me. “You’re to stay perfectly still while that vibrator teases your pussy and the only thing I want to see move is your arm as you cover your scars with whipped cream again. Understand?”
I was breathless, wanting to protest. I needed to cum so bad. I was so turned on it was unreal. But I did as he commanded.
“Yes, Master,” I replied.
The session went on to last another hour, and I was whipped several times for moving, but each time I didn’t, Isaac rewarded me with his mouth and a bit of pleasure, licking and cleaning my scars. By the time it was over, I’d gotten better at being perfectly still and I was rewarded with one of the hardest fucks Isaac had given me.
My eyes flicker back to the mirror, to the scars on my body. Scars that now have a different memory. My heart clenches in my chest. This isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s so much more. Submitting to Isaac makes me feel liberated.
My past is losing its grip on me. And it's all thanks to Isaac.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a terror that constantly haunts me, one of the recurring images that has viciously torn me from my sleep and kept me a captive to my past for years, rages in my vision.
I can see my old Master's sick smile as he hits me, delighting in the perverse pleasure my pain brings him. I can see the scene unfold as if I'm having an out-of-body experience, and I see myself cowering in the corner as he beats me over and over again, the back of hand slamming against my cheek, splitting my lip open and filling