The Diaries of Syra Bond Page 12

  ‘Syra, it is time for you to make a complete commitment to me. Here,’ he extended his hand towards me, ‘if you take my hand I will know you are sure you wish to go forward, that there will be no more holding back.’

  I touched my knee to the hard edge of the bench. I wanted to feel how unyielding it was by pressing my soft breasts against it. I wanted to know how solid the smooth surface would feel beneath me as each deliberate blow of the cane cut into my taut buttocks and I jerked beneath the impact in blinding agony. I pressed my leg harder against the edge, imagining how I would push my thighs against it, feeling its strength.

  ‘Syra!’ he said curtly, as if he knew I was lost in a dream of discipline, as if he knew he had to wake me in case I slipped so deeply into a reverie of punishment it would be impossible ever to rouse me again. ‘Syra,’ he repeated firmly.

  ‘Yes...’ I whispered, still pressing my leg against the bench, my mind consumed by images of the delightful pain I realised now would not come. ‘Please,’ I sighed, looking over at him. ‘Please help me to be bad, master.’

  ‘Yes, my pet, I will, but from now on even if I am not there you have to remember that I am still with you. I always know everything you do, in every detail. Remember, I am always watching you.’

  ‘Please,’ I repeated desperately. ‘Please...’ I felt a rush of excitement as he approached abruptly, and turning me around, forced me down on my knees and pressed me against the cold bench. I felt him pulling up my skirt and exposing my buttocks, but I did not count how many times his hand swept down against them. I thought only of what other things he had in store for me, knowing that as he led me to my destiny he would always be watching.

  Just when he stopped spanking me - when he judged my punishment sufficient for my misbehaviour - Eve appeared. For some reason she looked drained.

  Galen told her to help me shower, and she obediently took my arm and led me up the staircase and towards the red and green doors. I did not turn to look back at our master. I heard him walking up behind us, and I did not have to check any more to make sure his eyes were on me. The pet opened the red door and then stared at it with glazed eyes, as though slowly realising her mistake but incapable of doing anything to correct it.

  The room I looked into was white and sterile and cold. There was a chair in the centre made entirely of brightly polished steel, and upon it Cleo sat naked, her wrists manacled to the arms and her ankles affixed to the legs with metal rings. Her mouth was forced wide open by a metal ball and she was staring straight ahead as though at a distant horizon with wide, glazed eyes. The image was burnt into my mind, the bright light and the metallic coldness of the space contrasting with the supple warmth of her naked body pinned down and unmoving, a startled look frozen on her gaping countenance.

  Galen moved quickly and shut the door, obliterating the sinister picture... but it was branded into my brain forever. There was a moment of uneasy silence, a pause filled with terrible anticipation, and then Galen unleashed his anger as I watched Eve shrinking away from him, backing against the wall, into a corner, sliding slowly down to the floor until her buttocks were pressed against her heels. She looked up at him apologetically, beseechingly, as though she had been punished before for the same mistake and knew exactly what was in store - and dreaded it.

  ‘See to Syra,’ he said quietly, composing himself. ‘Make her ready.’

  She nodded hurriedly, obviously afraid he might reconsider, afraid he might find something else she had done wrong and punish her swiftly and cruelly without a second thought. She got up and hurried past him, avoiding the slightest proximity to his menacingly tense body. Taking my arm she opened the green door and led me into a bathroom, and I could feel her hand trembling.

  I had not wished to see the pet threatened like this. I had not wanted to see her weakness and her fear, but now I knew she was not as powerful as I believed, I relished her downfall. I had thought of her as somehow better then me, more elegant, more at ease and more fearless, but now I knew if I followed Galen’s instructions I could easily surpass her. When she passed me the razor and a large towel, I imagined her as a maidservant enslaved to her mistress, and considered telling her to shave me. I would watch her closely, hoping to find an error in her performance, and even if I had no reason to I would strike her with the flat of my hand before she had time to realise what was happening. After that she would flinch when I merely looked at her, and I would smile with satisfaction each time I saw the fear I so easily instilled.

  After shaving carefully between my legs I took a welcome shower, cleansing myself beneath the torrent of water. Then I knelt on the floor wrapped in the towel while she combed my wet hair, pulling it out to its full length, holding it in her hand to comb through it again. Her gestures were lazy and I wanted to tell her to be more vigorous. Finally she wrapped a red velvet band around my forehead and tied it beneath my hair at the nape of my neck. Her hands trembled slightly as she caressed my cheek before leaving the room. I did not move. I knew I was waiting for something to happen and possibilities dashed through my mind... I thought about Cleo sitting in the room next door. I thought about Espartaco facing a deadly bull... but then Galen entered, followed by the pet, and my mind went blank.

  He stood in front of me as she bent and pulled the red band down over my eyes. It fitted across them perfectly. I could see nothing as the white-tiled world of the bathroom was suddenly replaced with blackness. I was not startled, though; it seemed natural to me, in a way it was a relief from the brightness of the clean space. I succumbed to the blindfold almost gratefully, letting my eyes close and welcoming the absence of light as a dreamer welcomes the absence of wakefulness.

  My hair was lifted away from my neck, and I could tell it was Eve’s hands; the touch of her fingers familiar to me now. She stroked my neck with her fingertips as she gathered my hair and held it up, teasing out the straight wet strands and bunching them together again in her hands. I felt the tension in my scalp as she pulled my hair and held it tight so not a single strand would escape and fall back down to my shoulders. I felt the skin of my temples being strained as she pulled on my roots, and experienced a slight tingling in the back of my neck as weaker, shorter hairs complained beneath the strain.

  I stretched my shoulders back and absorbed the tension of the wet towel wrapped around me. It felt like a carapace enclosing me in its shell, preventing my emergence into the light and warmth of my life’s darkly enchanted springtime with Galen. I twisted my shoulders and felt the fluffy material loosen. I wriggled my shoulders again, and the terrycloth fell away, catching for a moment on my bottom before descending to my supine calves and the upturned soles of my feet. I wanted to be free of it altogether. I did not want it touching my skin any more, but I did not dare move more than I already had.

  I parted my knees slightly as Eve worked silently with my hair. She was plaiting it tightly, weaving it together in three thick strands that began close to the top of my head. She was braiding it into a tightly erect pillar, rising from my head like a spike. She played with the last few strands, carefully bending them into each other and stretching the plait to the very end of the longest hairs. Then she stopped and I imagined her standing back to admire her work, touching the upright braid to ensure it was perfectly vertical. Her hand slipped beneath my elbow, encouraging me to stand, and the towel fell aside as I got up off my knees. Slowly she led me forward towards the green door. I could still picture it in my mind and I knew if wanted me to go through it I would have to bend to accommodate my new hairstyle.

  I straightened up again as she led me across the cool wooden floor. I pictured the space in my mind - the exposed balcony on my right, the top of the spiral staircase on my left and, in the centre of the room, the raised wooden platform. I wondered if she was leading me out onto the balcony. I wondered if Galen had decided I must be tested again before I could progress further. Or was I to be taken naked out
into the street? Was I to be like the girl I had watched with the two men, held up against a dirty wall in a dimly lit alley?

  I felt a light pressure on my elbow holding me back, telling me to stop. I sensed the weight of my hair tipping my head forward slightly and held my chin up to keep the braid straight. My cheeks flushed as I felt Galen’s breath against them, alternately warming each one with his slow exhalations and stroking them with his essence. I did not move, and suddenly his hand was between my legs and his upturned palm was cradling my cunt. I felt shocked by the suddenness of his touch, but my surprise was immediately consumed by an overwhelming physical joy. His hand was warm and completely covered my pussy. I wanted him to lift me up on it. I wanted him to press his palm firmly against me and lift me up off the floor. But as suddenly as he had put it there, he withdrew his hand, and the wetness it left behind cooled my achingly warm flesh. I lowered my head and once again felt the braid tipping forward slightly. He held his hand against my mouth as if telling me to remain silent, and then drew it down and parted my lips with his fingertips until my mouth was gaping open. He let me stand there for a moment with my lips as far apart as they could go, and then he slid something between my teeth.

  I felt the weight of a leather ball on my tongue, heavy behind my teeth. Unable to breathe through my mouth any more, I inhaled through my nostrils. The quick intake of breath nearly made me gag on the ball, and I swallowed hard as I pressed my tongue against it to keep it as far forward as possible. I felt the sides of my mouth crease inwards as a cord leading from each side of the heavy sphere was pulled tightly around my face and tied behind my neck, drawing my mouth even more firmly around the ball and pinching my cheeks painfully beneath the tension. I felt my head nodding forward and realised someone was weaving something into the top of my upright plait. I was urged forward a step, and feeling a hard edge against my toes, I realised I was standing next to the raised platform in the middle of the room.

  I did not know if I was frightened or excited. Everything was so strange, so new and confusing for me. I could not make sense of everything I had experienced since arriving in Spain. I wanted to ask what was going to happen to me. Even though I knew the answer would not change anything, I still wanted to know. But, somehow, I could not even form the question in my mind much less utter it with a leather ball stuffed into my mouth. Then, as though I had asked him about my future aloud, as though he could read my mind and formed the question for me, Galen provided the answer.

  ‘Everything you have ever desired, Syra, my pet,’ he promised me. ‘Everything you have ever desired.’

  I have had to stop writing. I feel overwhelmed by my memories, overcome by what has built up inside me as I think about everything again. It has made my hands shake and I cannot hold the pencil still enough to write legibly. My stomach churns with anxiety when I think about how recording my experience is affecting me. When the trembling began, I put my pencil down and looked away in the hope it would stop. I thought if I ignored the way my body was shaking I would recover and soon be able to carry on, but that was a long time ago and shudders of emotion keep wracking me. He told me to keep working until he returned, but I stopped for too long and now I do not have time to catch up again. This has made me even more nervous, but I do not know what to do. If I tell him I am unable to write my story because it is too exciting for me, he will say I have to do so anyway and start from the beginning again. I know he will say I am not sufficiently recovered and need more treatment, so I must go back to the beginning. I could not bear to start all over; I have come too far. I could not stand to go through it all again...

  Chapter 9

  I was still shaking anxiously when he arrived. He counted the pages I had written and then looked at his watch. I could tell he knew I must have stopped, that I had not done enough. I thought of shrugging, of lifting my shoulders and raising my eyebrows dismissively, but the idea made my stomach come alive with nerves. Pretending I did not care was worse than being fearful of knowing I did care. He asked me if there was any reason why I had written less than was expected of me. His words were a confirmation of my worst fears and, dropping my guard for a moment, I almost told him the real reason - because what I was writing about was just too exciting - but I quickly came to my senses and looked away from him. I felt him shrug in the same way I imagined myself shrugging off his question, in a way that showed it did not matter and he did not really care. I felt let down by his response. It was as though he was no longer concerned about me, as if what I was doing had ceased to be important to him. And he had not said anything about using the word cunt again. He made so much fuss about it before, and yet now he did not seem to care.

  He sat on the step and motioned for me to bend over his knees, but even then he seemed impartial. I hung across his lap feeling the floor against the tips of my toes as I braced myself with my fingertips, waiting, expecting the worst. But even as I cried out beneath each hard smack of his hand, and kicked my legs up to try and soothe the burning pain, he did not quicken his pace or press his left hand harder into the small of my back. I climaxed, as always, when the pain was so great I knew I could no longer bear it and my body transformed it into an excruciating pleasure. But when he lifted me off his lap I felt strangely disappointed, because though I had appeared to reach my limit, in reality I was far from it. I climbed back onto his knees, holding my sore red bottom up for more punishment, squirming against him, demonstrating my disobedience and the need for further discipline. He pushed his hand into the small of my back, and I sighed contentedly knowing it was not over yet. He gave me some more unforgiving smacks, and I gasped with shock as each blow fell. Another orgasm crested inside me as I held his ankles and jerked against his legs. The spanking continued - I felt as though it would never end - and I bit my lip and squirmed against him passionately, relishing the intense suffering, savouring the humiliation, until he suddenly shoved me off his lap and left me alone again.

  As I stood against the edge of the raised platform I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I felt the way I had on the edge of the balcony, as though I was on the brink of something I had never experienced before, something fearful, but which I did not wish to turn away from. I was waiting to fall or be pushed into whatever lay before me.

  The blindfold was drawn away from my eyes. I did not close them, but instead stared straight out into the bright room. I tried to swallow, but it was impossible with the heavy ball filling my mouth. Eve held my shoulders and turned me slightly, and I saw my vague reflection in the shiny chrome doors of the large cupboard. My hair was pulled up on top of my head into a long vertical braid, two thin cords woven into it. Its base was thick and pulled on my scalp, but it had been plaited so neatly no stray hairs were visible. The cords leading from the ball-gag were pulled tightly into the corners of my mouth before crossing my cheeks. They were pulled so taut my chin was tipped slightly downward, not so far that it touched my chest but far enough to stop me bending my head any further.

  ‘Do you think you look beautiful?’ Galen asked me as he bent down and removed the padlock from the closed doors of the hatch on the platform.

  I looked at myself again, and nodded by dropping my shoulders forward, feeling the weight of the braid as it swayed slightly. I felt like an Egyptian queen bathed by her favourite servant girl and now, ritually gagged and naked, I was being presented to my lord and master for his approval. I looked earnestly at Galen, hoping he would not reject me.

  He pulled the hasp and staple free, and opened the tight-fitting doors in the platform. He held them up at right angles for a moment, and then let them fall fully open. ‘Step up here, Syra my pet, onto the edge, but keep your hands by your sides. Keep them there until I tell you otherwise.’

  I pressed the palms of my hands firmly against the sides of my thighs, raised my knee and climbed up onto the edge of the opening. I looked down into the open hatch and saw nothing, only an abyss of blackness in
tersected by the bright steel running across it. I expected him to ask if I was afraid, but he did not. Then I realised it would be pointless for him to ask me anything. He knew how I would respond - or at least, how I should respond. How could I possibly be afraid if he was with me?

  He stood behind me and wedged his hands beneath my armpits. His fingers touched the sides of my breasts and I felt my nipples harden as a tingling anticipation ran through me. He squeezed his fingers against my tender flesh and I sensed him encouraging me to fall into his hands. I dropped back slightly, and he accepted my weight.

  ‘Step forward,’ he instructed me quietly.

  For a moment I hesitated, but that was all, only for a moment. Then I stepped forward out over the edge of the opening in the platform and into the void. He held me, my hands stiff at my sides, my gaze fixed firmly ahead and the ball-gag tightly lodged in my mouth. I did not even stretch out my toes to test the terrifying emptiness, but simply let him slowly lower me into the darkness. I felt completely controlled by him. My will - what was left of it - was completely replaced by his and I did not wish it otherwise.

  My toes touched something that felt like water, or silk, I was not sure which. The invisible surface presented only the slightest resistance to my initial contact, and as soon as my flesh penetrated it, I felt as though part of me vanished. It was like receiving the softest kiss as the prelude to a completely absorbing abandonment. My toes were lost in the welcoming bath, and then my calves and my knees. I felt as if they were floating away as my master lowered me into the warm black mouth of the hatch, yet I was not afraid and offered no resistance as I descended.

  My breasts grazed the steel bar as he lowered me past it. It was shockingly cold, and already hard and aching, my nipples stiffened even more as the icy metal surface glided across their sensitive tips. The darkness lapped around my thighs, absorbing them, and then it touched my vulva and I swallowed hard, feeling the ball pressing against the back of my mouth. The temperature of the void exactly matched the temperature of my flesh, and as the lips of my sex made contact with it, they seemed to become one with the darkness itself. I felt as if my pussy was everything, the centre of a whole dark universe, and as though I was being slowly consumed by all the sensations latent within it. I saw the bar rising in front of my eyes and stared straight ahead as it passed my gaping mouth, the tip of my nose and my eyes.