A Dungeon Discipline for a Bratty Submissive

[Deleted Member]

The dungeon was a sanctuary of shadows and secrets, its walls lined with an arsenal of tools designed to elicit pleasure and *** in equal measure. The air was thick with anticipation as I stood at the center of the room, my eyes gleaming with a mixture of stern authority and unspoken desire. Before me knelt my sub, a defiant yet alluring figure with a rebellious streak that had, once again, pushed the boundaries of our agreement. Tonight, discipline was not just necessary—it was inevitable.
Her posture was a mix of defiance and nervous energy, her chin tilted upward as if daring me to act. The leather collar gleamed under the soft red light, a stark contrast to the pale skin of her neck. My gaze lingered on the collar, a symbol of ownership and submission, before moving to her eyes. There was a spark of challenge in them, a silent plea for punishment wrapped in a veneer of brattiness. I smirked, knowing exactly how to break through her facade.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?” my voice was low and velvety, a dangerous purr that sent a shiver down her spine. There was no room for argument, no space for denial. Her lips twitched, but they remained silent, her defiance wavering under the weight of my scrutiny.
“Stand up,” I commanded, my tone brooking no disobedience. She rose slowly, her body tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. I circled her, my movements deliberate, my eyes tracing her every curve and line of her body. “You think you can test me, don’t you? Push me to see how far you can go?” my voice was laced with amusement, but there was an undercurrent of steel beneath it.
Her breath hitched, but she said nothing, her silence speaking volumes. I stopped behind her, my hand reaching out to grip her wrist firmly. “Tonight, you’ll learn your place. Again.”
I led her to the center of the room, where a sturdy St. Andrew’s cross stood, its wooden frame imposing yet inviting. I pushed her against it, her body flush with the wood, and began securing her wrists with soft leather restraints. Each click of the buckle was a reminder of her vulnerability, her powerlessness in the face of the my control. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in short gasps as the restraints tightened.
“Still think you can defy me?” I murmured, my lips brushing against her ear. She shivered, her body betraying her words, but she remained silent, her pride warring with her desire.
I stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Her body was a canvas of restraint and anticipation, her arms stretched above her head, her legs slightly spread. My eyes gleamed with satisfaction as I reached for a silk scarf, its texture soft yet effective. “Open your mouth,” I commanded, my voice leaving no room for refusal.
She hesitated, her jaw clenched, but my gaze was unwavering. Slowly, reluctantly, she obeyed, her lips parting to reveal a hint of defiance in her eyes. I smiled, a cruel twist of the lips, as I folded the scarf and placed it between the her teeth, tying it securely at the back of her head. The gag was a symbol of silence, a reminder of who was in control.
“Now,” I said, my voice dripping with satisfaction, “let’s see if you can still be so bratty when you’re properly restrained.”
I stepped back, taking in the sight of her bound and gagged, her body a picture of ***ness. But there was no pity in my eyes, only a fierce, possessive desire. I reached for a paddle, its surface smooth and unyielding, and moved to stand beside her. “This is for your own good,” I said, my voice a low rumble. “To teach you the consequences of disobedience.”
The first strike landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the dungeon. Her body jerked, a muffled cry escaping through the gag as the paddle connected with her ass. I watched with satisfaction as a pink blush began to spread across her skin, a testament to my control. “You like that, don’t you?” I taunted, my voice laced with mockery. “Being punished for being a bad girl?”
Her eyes widened, her body squirming against the restraints, but I was relentless. Strike after strike fell, each one a reminder of her place, each one pushing them closer to the edge of pleasure and ***. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat, her skin flushed and marked with the evidence of the my discipline.
But I was far from finished. I set the paddle aside and reached for a set of clamps, their metal surfaces glinting under the dim light. “These will teach you to hold your tongue,” I said, my voice a dangerous whisper. Her eyes widened in alarm, but there was no escape, no way to avoid the inevitable.
I attached the clamps to the sub’s nipples, my fingers deft and unhurried, my touch a mix of cruelty and tenderness. Her body arched, a sharp cry muffled by the gag as the clamps bit into her sensitive flesh. I smiled, a cruel, triumphant smile, as I admired her reaction. “Beautiful,” I murmured, my voice filled with admiration. “So responsive, so eager to please.”
Her chest heaved, her body trembling with the effort of holding still, her senses overwhelmed by the combination of *** and pleasure. My fingers traced the lines of her body, their touch light yet commanding, their presence a constant reminder of my dominance. “You’re mine,” I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear. “Completely and utterly mine.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her body surrendering to my control, her defiance crumbling under the weight of her desire. My fingers moved lower, my touch teasing and ***ing, pushing her closer to the edge but never allowing them to fall. Orgasm denial was a game I played with mastery, a cruel yet exhilarating dance of pleasure and frustration.
“Beg me,” I commanded, my voice a low growl. “Beg me to let you cum.”
Her body twisted, her breath coming in desperate gasps, their need written plainly on their face. But I was unmoved, my gaze unwavering, my control absolute. “Louder,” I said, my voice a challenge. “Let me hear you beg.”
Her voice was hoarse, ber words muffled by the gag, but her desperation was undeniable. “Please… let me… please…”
I smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, as I leaned in close, my lips brushing against her ear. “Not yet,” I whispered, my voice a promise and a threat. “Not until you’ve learned your lesson.”
Her body sagged, her resistance broken, her will surrendered to my command. My fingers continued their ***, my touch a relentless dance of pleasure and denial, pushing her to the brink again and again, but never allowing her to find release. Her cries were music to my ears, a symphony of need and desperation, a testament to my power.
As the night wore on, her body became a map of her submission, her skin marked with the evidence of my discipline, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of her experience. My control was absolute, my dominance unquestioned, my desire, a *** that consumed her entirely.
Finally, I relented, my fingers slowing, my touch softening. “You’ve been a good girl,” I murmured, my voice filled with approval. “You’ve learned your lesson.”
Her body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her senses reeling from the intensity of her experience. I removed the clamps, the gag, the restraints, her movements gentle yet firm, my touch a reminder of my ownership. She collapsed on me, her body spent, her will surrendered, her defiance replaced by a deep, abiding submission.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you for disciplining me.”
I smiled, as I held her close, my arms a sanctuary of strength and protection. “You’re welcome,” I said, my voice a low rumble. “Now, rest. You’ve earned it.”
And as her body relaxed, her breath evening out, her senses drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, as I watched over her, my gaze filled with a mixture of pride and desire. The lesson had been learned, the boundaries rein***d, the bond between us stronger than ever. In the quiet of the dungeon, as the world outside began to awaken, I knew that she was exactly where she belonged—in my arms, under my control, forever mine.

[Da****]

That was an awesome story. Your writing skills and imagination are great.

[gl****]

THIS… if this would’ve happened, we would still be ok. 

[SissyslutSamantha]

Oh yes I would love to try this.