Caution: violence and occultism with sexually explicit content
It was a matter of punishment. Purification through pain was an important aspect of service to this Goddess. The slave mind is easily clouded and distracted by a multitude of inconsequential thoughts. Emotional energies left unspent also damage a slave’s ability to be at peace when not in active use. Knowing all of this firsthand, he was frightened anyway. None of the other women he had served before her were as skilled or as all encompassing. Nor were they outright witches.
He rolled his shoulders and neck as best he could. His wrists were bound together and held overhead by a combination of ropes and metal clips attached to a beam near the ceiling. She had allowed his heels to touch the floor this time, but the spreader bar cuffed to his ankles kept his feet uncomfortably wide apart. Slave pride kept him from making noises of complaint. He had also noticed that she was more cruel if he was vocal before she began.
Her eyes casually wandered over his taut, naked form. She was seated at a table about six paces away from him, chanting something under her breath and arranging crystals around the various lit candles before her. One of her favorite moments with this slave was the instant he realized she was looking directly at him. It was never possible to predict what his reaction would be. Sometimes he was startled, as if he had been caught doing something wrong, even if he was immobilized. Other times it seemed like a glance from her electrocuted him, and he would struggle or whimper as if acting on an unstoppable impulse. The reaction that pleased her the most was, of course, when his cock and eyes grew larger at the same time. Especially if the steel of whichever chastity cage she’d locked him into visually bit into the shaft. For this reason, when he was displayed, he was often spared the more painful contraptions that didn’t permit such a view.
The chanting became more audible as she finished the configuration of her stones. She rose, lit the sage, and slowly paced the room in a wide circle around him, her soft words still indecipherable. He always wondered what she was saying to her Goddess before she spoke as his, but she never allowed him to catch more than a word or two. Simple and long in the sleeves was the dress she wore tonight. It was also form fitting and thin enough to show every curve of her full figure. Her slippered feet made almost no noise as she completed the circle and then returned the sage to its resting place inside a seashell on the candlelit table.
“Relax into the inevitable, your Goddess will cleanse your mind through the mortification of your flesh.” Her voice was always a shock to him. It was deep and sweet, but always said such terrifying things.
In the silence that followed her words, he experienced the most terrifying moment of the night. Not knowing what the first blow would be like, not knowing when it would stop, not knowing if she would seek his screams or test his stamina…. the moment hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity until the first snap of the thick rawhide flogger tails. Little tongues of fire flicked across his right shoulder blade. He flinched, but stayed in place and quiet. The next flick of the flogger was harder, lighting up the nerves in his left shoulder with a sudden ferocity. He gritted his teeth, but stayed silent and still. After the fifth strike, the blows came in a flurry that built the flashes of pain into a unified, throbbing sensation that pulled moans from his body in spite of his best efforts to stay quiet. When she was pleased with how welted his back was and how thoroughly slicked with sweat they had both become, she placed the flogger on the table and blew out the candles.