The New Marceline.

[iambic]

Hello Everyone. I've decided to start writing a story on a new subject that I think will have some longevity. Bear with me as I begin to create a tale that I hope you'll all enjoy.

The following isn't the start to my story. It's a brief passage that takes place at some point in the narrative, but I feel it'll do very well at giving the audience an idea of what to expect in the future. I'll probably post the first real chapter within the next few days.

So, without further ado...

Prologue.

She had grown up idolizing them. The femme fatales of the silver screen, the super-villain seductresses of golden age comics... Even the stone age empresses and queens who ruled entire kingdoms with their brilliance and prowess. And now she, at age twenty-four, had encapsulated all of their exotic qualites to become a modern goddess.

Beauty. Confidence. Power. She repeated it to herself as she gazed into the mirror curling her eyelashes. Beauty. Confidence. Power.

She turned back toward the bedroom but stopped when she neared the doorway. She could just barely hear the mechanical whir emanating from the kitchen, and as it kicked into a higher setting other noises started up as well. A smile cracked over her lightly freckled face. Soon. Sitting on the bed she hummed quietly to herself as she zipped up her boots, choosing to ignore whatever sounds were now being made.

As she walked out into the living room she was sure to make slow, deliberate steps. Although there was no proof that he could hear her, she wanted him to feel that sense of dread at her approach. Power, she whispered under her breath. You have beauty already. Be strong. She stopped when she reached the machine and looked down at him.

His bonds hadn’t budged an inch since she’d left. He was stuck in the exact same spot he had been in before: arms cinched tightly together in front of him, with ankles chained to the table legs, and his entire midsection squirming on his stomach against the hard cold maple wood. His firm ass looked perfect in his bent over position, aside from the tiny nicks that were made when she shaved him.

The girl walked up to to the front of the table and crouched down on its left side. Pulling his head to face her ever so slightly, she whispered: “You’ll submit.” and then again, even softer yet closer to his ear: “I know you’ll submit.”

His response was to continue sweating and whimpering pathetically against his leather gag. She thought his head-shaking may have been an attempt to loosen the blindfold, but the quivering in his legs made her realize otherwise. As she looked at the machine perched between his thighs it all made sense. Anyone being robofucked by an 9 inch dildo would probably be squirming in a similar manner.

She ran the hard leather end of her crop down his backside as she made her way back to where the machine stood. Although the machine’s pace was approximately a full thrust every second and a half, the slave seemed to have become accustomed to his punishment. He acts like this is nothing, she thought, and unconsciously found herself spanking his ass with the crop at the thought. Each blow evinced a soft whimper, save for the last, which came down right in the middle of his cheeks. He then produced a girlish squeal that delighted her to no end.

“Yeah, you’ll submit.” She increased her volume. “They always submit.” Then she increased the dildo’s speed, and he began to moan gratuitously.

She made her way back to the bedroom. I deserve some me time anyway, and she yawned as if to confirm this fact. Seated at her desk reading her Kindle, the noises became even louder, eventually eclipsing the continuous mechanical screeching. He probably just had an orgasm, the little slut. She smiled widely and bit her knuckle, then winced at his heavy breathing. An orgasm meant he had come, and that meant he’d sprayed jizz all over the table she usually ate at. And that would mean more punishment, not that he didn’t already deserve it.

He’d stop fucking me after he came, she thought to herself. I won’t give him the same courtesy.

In the living room, a man became aware of his hopelessness as he lay in a pool of his own come, while a woman gazed at her voluptuous leather-clad figure in the bathroom mirror. And all was right in the detached town home somewhere in the suburbs of its Illinois city.

Five minutes later the dildo had let up no speed, and the dom stood up to return to her lair while the sub boy tried his best to beat back tears. And as she walked, she recalled her favorite phrase.

Beauty.

Confidence.

Power.

I’m ready.

[I need punishing]

oooh, nice start, sounds juicy

[iambic]

Let's get the ball rolling, shall we?

Chapter 1

He thought having the blindfold off would be better, but in reality, it didn’t change much. While he could look down the hallway into the darkness of the bathroom, her bedroom was at too much of an angle to see into. Although from the movement of shadows he could tell she was in there, the captive had no idea what she was doing. Don’t show her fear. You can still win. Despite this thinking, his breath was heavy and loud.

He struggled against the bonds again, but it was fruitless. These weren’t ropes or tape he was dealing with. She had the foresight to strap cuffs on him the moment she took him, and they had remained there ever since. Now wrist and ankle were attached with small yet sturdy locks, and fully limited his movement. Not that it mattered. The leash on his collar was attached with an even larger lock. Even if his wrists weren’t bound to his ankles, there was no way to detach himself. He didn’t know what the leash was attached to - something on the ceiling, apparently - but he was sure she had that one locked down too.

He struggled some more, but only in frustration. This wasn’t where he belonged. He was no slave.

Marceline came into the kitchen, walking resolutely toward him. He leaned his head up and got on the balls of his feet, but he could only see the top of her chin. She walked right up to him, stopped, and then leaned over him to wash something out in the sink. After a few seconds she dried it off in the air, sending water droplets straight onto his face. Then she turned around and walked back to her room.

Dat ass was his first thought. Fucking bitch came second.

The music came on about two minutes later. Katy Perry, her bubbly pop meandering out from the doorway. A few minutes later she came back, and crouched down in front of him. It was intimidating, staring at her, eye-to-eye, him naked and completely helpless, her decked out in leather and lace, holding a riding crop. She brushed his hair back a few times.
“Maybe I should have shaved this too.”
He shifted at her and made an inaudible grunt. She ignored all of it, and undid the locks binding his wrists and ankles. Instantly he stood up, and looked at the ceiling. His intution was right. The chain leash was locked to a large hook in the ceiling. Although he was freer than he had been in the past 24 hours, there was still no way he was getting out. When he looked down, she was looping rope through both of his wrist cuffs, and tied them together while still holding a longer length of rope. Then she undid the leash from the ceiling.
“Come on, bitch.”
She pulled the rope and leash at the same time, leading him along with his wrists at chest level and his back hunched. his cock swung back and forth as he tried to keep up with her long strides. They turned into her room. she pulled the leash and the rope firmly, and he went tumbling onto the bed.

Now she was on top of him. He fought, struggling and mmphing wildly, but a quick, full-handed squeeze to his balls got him yelping and under control. With this momentary upper hand, she grabbed the rope and tied it to the bedframe, which kept his hands above his head whether he liked it or not. Once again, he had been defeated.

She stood up and he looked at her, eyes brimming with hatred. She was too busy going through her dresser drawers to look at him. He, however, was amazed at what he saw. This wasn’t the Marceline he knew. She had lost those few extra pounds that he had previously used to justify the way he treated her, and her muscle tone was obvious as well. She thought about what her stomach must have looked like under that corset, or what how muscular her calves were under the knee-high boots. His mind was a flurry of dick-shrinking fear and anxiety as well as intense sexual arousal for his new mistress.

She gathered everything from the various drawers into a pile, and dumped it on the top of the dresser. He could only see the slender red rod perched halfway off the side, and a blindfold that peeked out from the front. But there were at least a dozen items he saw her gather. His heart raced.

Suddenly straps came up from the bottom of the bed, binding his ankles to the edge of the mattress. He flailed his feet helplessly to test their strength - sure enough, he was fully bound here as well. That was expected. What wasn’t, however, was the fact that she took off his gag. So out of the blue was this new freedom that the captive immediately forgot all of the choice words he previously had been storing to give to her.

His eyes were looking up as he thought, until his attention was caught by snap of a black leather glove. He watched her work the other elbow-length glove onto her other hand, and stood over him with a burning stare.

“M-Marceline” he stammered, “I know you’re mad at me and all but this shit is -”
a gloved hand slapped across his face, hard. He had been slapped by women before - usually in response to something shocking he said, or by a girlfriend who did it just out of habit. But this was a different kind of slap. This was a speechless “shut the fuck up”, and he pursed his lips together in accordance.

Marceline picked the crop back up off the night stand and ran it around the slave’s naked stomach and chest. the leather was cold, but the anticipation was really what got to him, and he squirmed more and more as the tension grew thicker. Then, a firm whap came down on his belly button. then another under his chest. Suddenly they were raining down ever second, blow after blow of three inches of leather coming down on his naked body, making him squirm and struggle and mmph, but only intermittently. It was the final few that landed right on the tip of his ever-hardening cock that got the biggest reaction.

She dropped the crop, and picked up her mini cat ‘o nine tails. Immediately he recognized it from a halloween costume she wore two years past, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Surely the quality of the toy would be too low to do any real damage. He was chagrined to find out this wasn’t the case.

A few minutes later, red lines had formed all over his chest and nipples, while itunes shuffled to some early Lady Gaga. Now his ears hurt as well as his body. Although he had kept his eyes closed during the torture, he opened them now to see what was next in store. Marceline merely took off her gloves, not noticing her slave’s anxious gaze.

The dom straddled her sub, and he inhaled in fright. Bare palms ran down his new wounds, and he felt his entire body relax. He moaned softly when she leaned down to kiss his hurt nipples, she gently ran her fingers above his crotch, he smiled for the first time in 24 hours.

Suddenly she grabbed his dick and squeezed. “Nice and hard.” She was right. he was throbbing, and he didn’t even realize it had happened. She leaned over to the nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a penis pump and cock ring. He opened his mouth to protest, but she gagged it shut with her other hand.
“Did I not make myself clear? I don’t wanna hear you, understand?”
“Mmph.”
She took that to mean yes, and slowly took her hand away. He sighed. Guess I’m not going anywhere till tonight...
She took his cock in her hand and began to stroke.
Or tomorrow...
The pump came down around his rod, and instantly he felt the pressure.It built to a greater degree until it was almost painful. His cock felt like it was going to explode.
“Marceline!”
Again, a slap across the face, but with less force this time.
“That’s two strikes. One more and I’ll gag you.”
“Urgh!”
She didn’t bother to count that grunt, and looked at his cock trapped in it’s plastic cage. She knew he was well-endowed, but watching the veins pop up and the head throb like an expanding balloon was all but enthralling. Eventually she noticed him beginning to sweat with fear, and removed the pump from around his rod. He breathed a sigh of relief, but when she snapped the cock ring around the base of his dick, he tensed up. She stroked it a few times down the shaft, and was sure it was completely engorged once again.

The boy struggled back and forth, to no avail. She leaned down and bit the tip of his dick, and licked the front of the head.
“mmmmmm fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuu...”
He caught himself on that one, but it wasn’t good enough for her. “Strike three.” He let out a sad moan, and an “mmph” when the tape came down over his mouth.

Marceline took her palm and rubbed it in circular motions around the mushrooming head of his cock. She did this two dozen times, slowing occasionally when she felt he was about to explode. He never was a quick cummer, but then again, his tool had never been treated like this.

It went on like this for 20 minutes. For Marceline, it didn’t seem that long. But for the pathetic, emasculated toy writhing and moaning and mmphing on the bed, it was six days of torment, at least. When she finally began to jerk his cock up and down with full strokes, he spurted out a torrent of white so large that it couldn’t have been healthy.

For the next minute the two of them sat in silence, he staring at the ceiling, recalling the fact that he had been kidnapped by his ex-girlfriend, with no plan or hope for escape in sight. She kept her eye on the bucket of semen, as if it was something she’d never seen before. Eventually she smacked him on the stomach, and satisfied with his wince, she stood up.

“Well, one down. How many more do you think you have in you?”
He just stared at her.
“Whatever it is, I’m giving you two more.”
Then she had the audacity to wink at him. He pulled against his bonds and yelled, but it was nothing more than a muffled “GRR” under the gag. She giggled as she pranced back into the kitchen for a snack, and thought about her question.

I’d say 6, maybe 7. That last one is going to be lots of fun.

She was enjoying this new toy of hers.

[kmacroxs]

this is great, please continue writing.

[Siren]

This looks like it has a lot of potential, please keep going