****** Symbiosis by Cat ******
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Symbiosis


The name of the demon who torments me is Anger. I have suppressed this fiend
for many years, always keeping it under my control. And now I have met the man
who would release it. He wants to be my Christ, sacrificing his flesh so that I
might find salvation. I am unfamiliar with the names of the devils residing
within him, but he seems to need this exorcism as much as I.

The first time he offered himself to me, I hesitated. My experience inflicting
pain was limited, because of my daily struggle to contain Anger. But the demon
smelled freedom and was desperate to escape. I allowed it to possess me, and my
savior trembled as he witnessed the transformation. "Kneel." I commanded. He
immediately complied and dropped to his knees on the hard, parquet floor. He
moved to kiss my feet, shod in 5 inch spiked patent leather heels, and was
surprised when I kicked him. "Never touch me without asking first."

"I'm sorry, Mistress." he said, head bowed. I thrust a hand into his flowing
mane of gold and pulled him to his feet. Ruthlessly I kissed him, my teeth
grinding against his lips. I could taste his blood on my tongue. I broke the
kiss and grabbing his shirt, I tore it from his body. He gasped in surprise.
"Get your clothes off." I paced impatiently as he fumbled to remove the rest of
his clothes. Finally, he stood naked, ready for my inspection. I first noticed
his erection, purple and throbbing. I forced his cock through the seven silver
rings of a gates of hell, and he winced as they closed around his erection.
"The sight of your animal lust disgusts me," I said, and I tucked his penis
between his legs, strapping it to his thigh.

"I'm sorry Mistress. It's just that you're so beautiful," he whined pitifully.

I sneered at his weakness. "Is that what turns you on? The way I look?" He was
trapped in semantics and searched for an escape.

"Yes, I mean, no." he stammered.

I took a silk blindfold and covered his eyes. "I guess we'll have to find out,"
I said, as I pushed him against the wall. He reached out blindly with his hands
to balance himself. Taking one of his hands, I stretched it out and clasped it
in an iron manacle, secured to the wall. I then did the same with the other.
"Spread your legs," I demanded, using my crop to direct him. I shackled his
ankles to the wall. "Don't move," I said sarcastically and left the room. I
went downstairs to get a glass of wine and the phone rang, preventing an
immediate return. It was an hour before I went back upstairs.

"Mistress?" he said questioningly.

"Yes." I said softly.

"I-, I have to piss." he said reluctantly.

"Oh?" I responded and pushed on his bladder.

"Please--" he begged.

I held a glass of water to his lips. "Drink it." He groaned and swallowed the
water as I tipped the cup back. I took my crop and flicked it against his
balls, which hung beneath his imprisoned cock. He bit his lip.

"I hope you don't have an accident, slave." I said cruelly. "Or you will clean
the floor with your tongue."

He shook his head, "No, Mistress, I won't go on your floor."

I went into the adjoining bathroom, and leaving the door open so that he could
hear, I relieved myself. I heard him groaning in the next room and smiled
wickedly. I waited five more minutes before ushering him into the bathroom.
"Hurry up," I said, as I unfastened the gates of hell. I helped him position
himself in front of the porcelain basin. "What are you waiting for?" I asked.

"For you to leave." he said, blushing. "Then you will be here a long time." He
could contain himself no longer, and I watched as a yellow stream gushed from
his body and fell into the water below. Taking my crop, I smacked it against
his ass, and he briefly stopped urinating. I waited for him to resume, before I
cropped him again, a long red welt appearing on his pale skin. Finally he was
finished. Pulling his hands behind his back, I forced him to walk in front of
me down the stairs, having decided to introduce him to my basement dungeon. The
wooden cross at first seemed like the perfect place for my savior, but I wanted
to have complete access to his entire body. This meant I would have to bind him
to the overhead suspension bar. First, I decided to remove the blindfold. My
basement was dark, and the floor was cold concrete, with a drain in the center
of the floor (in case of accidents). In one corner was a wire cage, just the
right size for a large dog; but he knew I had no dog. Hanging from a beam was
the suspension bar, its soft black leather restraints dangling down, waiting to
grab him.

"Stay," I said and walked over to the closet. I came back with a chain-link
collar, which I locked with a key around his neck. In the other hand, I held a
black silk brassiere and ruffled panties. He was instantly erect.

"So you like being a girl," I said. Having left the cock restraint upstairs, I
grabbed a roll of duct tape and taped his penis firmly against his inner thigh.
I had a small vat of warmed paraffin, which I spread on his semi-hairy chest.
"Be still," I directed, as I peeled the wax from his skin.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, as his hair was pulled from his body. I continued waxing
him until his chest was smooth. I rubbed a soothing lotion over his irritated
skin, which was covered with tiny red dots. He had tolerated it well, and I
handed him the bra and panties. "Put these on."

He took them from me silently and dressed. I laughed at the sagging cups on his
chest, and he looked down, hurt. I returned to my secret closet and returned
with a pair of peach-colored falsies, which I slipped into the bra.

I stood back and inspected him. "Hmm," I said. "Something's not right." I
fastened a garter belt around his waist and helped him into a pair of fishnet
stockings. Then I gave him a pair of high heeled pumps, specially sized for
men. Taking red lipstick, I colored in his lips. "You look like a whore," I
said to him, and he moaned softly. "Stand over there," I gestured beneath the
suspension bar. He tottered over to it, trying to maintain his footing. I
followed and clasped his wrists in the restraints.

Uncoiling my braided leather whip, I struck him across the back. He jumped
forward as it made contact with his skin. I lashed out again, feeling the anger
surging through my limbs. "You're such a slut," I spat, as I continued to
strike him. His back was covered in red lines from my blows, and he begged me
to stop. But Anger drove me on. I remembered how my father used to hit me, and
how I was too small to fight back, and for a minute he became my father. I
remembered the men who took advantage of me, and he became them. I thought of
the times I had been harassed or accosted, and his face transformed into those
nameless ones. I recalled the disappointment of my failed marriage and the
bitter divorce, and he was my ex-husband. He represented every disappointment
and every painful experience in my life, and I sobbed as I attacked them. He
too cried, but I could not stop until every bit of Anger vanished.

As I looked at his back, welted, bruised, and bleeding, guilt welled up inside.
He had refused a safe word, saying he would use it too quickly. He told me I
must do whatever I needed to heal. I dropped the whip and stood in front of
him. I lifted his head and looked into his eyes. I started to apologize, but he
shook his head. "Thank you Mistress," he whispered, and a smile played on his
lips. He was weak and trembling, but his joy was evident. He too had begun the
healing process. I unclasped his hands, and he wrapped his arms around me, and
we kissed hungrily. Reaching between his legs, I carefully removed the duct
tape. The pain was nothing like the pain he had experienced on his back, and he
was silent. I laid back on the cold floor, and pulled him onto me. "Fuck me," I
demanded. "Fuck me hard." He thrust himself between my legs, and I reached up
to take him inside. My hands traveled over the torn flesh on his back, but he
did not complain and never paused.

"Mistress, may I come?" he begged.

I nodded. "Yes," I whispered. His body shuddered as he exploded inside me.

"Thank you Mistress," he murmured in my ear. "I love you."

I smiled and closed my eyes, content for a time.

At the end of our first complete day together, I looked over at him and said,
"It's late. Time for bed." We went back to the basement, and he walked over to
the cage in the corner. I kissed him goodnight, and he crawled inside. I put my
fingers through the metal bars, and he licked them. "Goodnight," I said and
locked the cage door. "You have a busy day tomorrow, so sleep well."

He nodded and curled into a ball. "Goodnight Mistress." I turned out the lights
and went to my room.

We have been together a while now. Through his devotion, he has graduated to
the foot of my bed, although the cage is still in the corner should he forget
his place. He is my slave, and although I generally treat him well, he is still
punished for any infractions. But his love and devotion to me are complete, and
when Anger overtakes me, he is grateful to be the instrument of my deliverance
and overjoyed to be needed.

When we are together, the rest of the world fades into the background, and we
exist only for each other. We depend on each other for survival. Our
relationship is codependent, and although he is the slave and I am the
mistress, we are equal in our need for each other. And that is the meaning of
symbiosis.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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