This is just going to be a short couple of stories detailing the various nights in which Vallasch becomes infatuated with his former mistress.
Tamed
He felt groggy. How long would he have to breathe the same stale air in this chamber? How long did she plan on keeping him here? So far he had already lost track of what day it was. He tried to open his eyes but there was no difference, just darkness either way. Was he blind? Had she cut his eyes out while he slept? No, there was just no light in the room.
Eventually Vallasch managed to work out the detail of the ceiling. He was laid down. He tried to sit up but could not move a muscle. He lifted his head to an angle where he could check over his body. He was clothed at least, this time. He was bound to a vivisection table; he could feel the metal grate beneath through which his blood would seep. So was this how he would meet his end? Or was it just another of her mind games?
The reason why he couldn’t move was now rather apparent. Each of his wrists and ankles were held in metal shackles while thick, leather bands strapped his thighs down. Another heavier band was clamped tightly over his chest, squeezing his lungs. He felt tightness around his throat, the familiar constriction of the bondage collar she so enjoyed pulling on.
“Ah, awake at last,” said a condescending female voice. He started at the sound and she chuckled, emerging from the shadows of the room. Her sadistic, glacial eyes bore down into him once again and she perched herself on top of his stomach, making it even harder for him to breathe than before. Her shapely figure was closely covered by a red taffeta dress with split sides, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Vallasch let his head fall back and closed his eyes with a sigh, “Oh, it’s you again…” At that she smirked broadly and leaned in close to him, the strands of her hair falling around his face. “You say that as if you’re not pleased to see me,” she said with mock sweetness. He opened his eyes half-mast with contempt, “well obviously that’s because I hate you.” She ignored him and placed a hand over his crotch, “Oh really?” she asked, “Then your posture belies you.”
Now she had his attention, he bared his teeth and snarled, “Get off me. Now you harlot!” With her other hand she slapped him hard across the cheek, but she seemed otherwise unoffended. Instead she simply smiled. “You mean Mistress,” she corrected him.
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