In sexual relationships, SM was a very special way.
The human being, as a superior creature, exists on the fine line between the exalted and the primal, a boundary that is inherently confined. Once one steps beyond the limitations of superiority, the destructive tendencies of nature are set loose. Thus, within each person lies an innate capacity for cruelty. At the same time, humans are complex animals, more deeply and profoundly influenced by the external world in terms of emotions and character. As a result, when subjected to stress, setbacks, or pain, one may resort to stress-induced behaviors—such as drunkenness, self-harm, insomnia, and other reactions—these subconscious responses are, in essence, a manifestation of humanity's masochistic constitution.
SM effectively expresses the desire to escape from high-level restraints in sexual activities, so sometimes it is said that playing SM is a process of addiction, with symptoms ranging from mild to severe, like getting into a role and becoming increasingly obsessed. The ways and means of play also become more intense, which is the result of the increasingly out-of-control behavior of both the dominant and submissive parties.
In this process, the sadist's desire for dominance is fulfilled and reflected in the reactions of the masochist. Shame, fear, obsession, whipping, submission, lust—these acts of humiliation upon the high consciousness of humanity bring immense satisfaction to the sadist.
Such psychological gratification is mirrored and magnified in the victim, especially when the one being trained is a difficult subject. In such cases, the sadistic emotions intensify to an extreme.
At this moment, George embodied such a mindset. As he watched Arabella kneeling with her hands bound behind her, his inner satisfaction swelled to its utmost.
The sound of a slap echoed crisply against the skin of her hip.
"Don't move. Right now, you're just a container to suck cocks. Who gave a container the right to move?"
The large penis was vigorously thrusting in and out of a mouth as the sound echoed.
"Yes, exactly. What a great way to eat a cocksucker's ass!"
The praise was laced with cruel humiliation, as if it had reduced Arabella to nothing more than an object, stripped of all dignity. In his eyes, she was but a worthless, soulless thing, devoid of any worth or personhood.
In the salivary-covered mouth, it was wet and hot, and Arabella's mouth was stretched to its maximum, but she could only just manage to swallow most of George's penis, with the rest pressing against the back of his throat, forced to absorb it unconsciously as a container.
This tightness and sensation of excitement was so intense that George almost lost control and shot his load, so he pulled back slightly to just manage to hold onto her impulse.
He roughly seized Arabella's hair, forcing her head back so that her entire face was exposed, laid bare under the harsh light, with no escape from its unrelenting glare.
He had expected that a woman like Arabella, having occupied such a high position for so long, would carry a certain pride and arrogance. Even though her inner strength might surpass that of ordinary women, in this moment, he believed she would wear a face of shame and discomfort, clearly struggling beneath the weight of humiliation.
To his surprise, as Arabella's face was tilted upward, she maintained her unchanging smile. At first glance, there was no trace of malice in her expression. Instead, she seemed as if she were a gentle spring breeze, exuding a soft and docile charm, her demeanor utterly serene and compliant.
"Do you enjoy playing like this?" Arabella's smile became even more pronounced as she noticed George's barely contained excitement. Her voice, already soft and melodic, lowered a few more notches, laced with a quiet, almost teasing tone. "What other games do you have in mind?"
The calm composure behind her smile, like an impenetrable shield, caused George's previously soaring sense of satisfaction to falter. Enraged, he slapped her several times in quick succession, his fury spilling over as he scolded: "A bitch like you doesn't deserve to speak. I'll fuck you so tight that you'll squirt with your toes, how slutty of you!"
The slaps, likely nothing more than a light irritation to Arabella, were not delivered with much force by George, for they were mere methods of discipline in the game on the bed. The real punishment lay in the humiliation of being struck. Yet, Arabella's eyes curved into a soft smile, and, obediently, she pressed her legs together, her half-lidded gaze casting a shadow of something dark and foreboding. However, George, caught in the heat of the moment, remained oblivious to the subtle, unsettling tranquility in her smile, which seemed almost eerie in its contrast to the situation.
Arabella listened obediently to George's instructions, wiggling her hips and displaying various lascivious poses at his bidding. She allowed herself to be molested and humiliated at her whim, and then, without changing her expression, she complained, "It was pretty comfortable, but your toe was too small."
George was taken aback, a strange sensation ran through his heart, but was quickly overwhelmed by the surging desire. He grabbed Arabella's breasts and rubbed the nipples against the ground, the kneeling and prone position was so captivating, he slapped Arabella's ass, Arabella's skin was as white as jade, the slap was solid, red against white, it made him feel as if he was in paradise, the woman below him was like a ball of cotton, like a container for his desire to be released.
The uncontrollable desire surged into Arabella's body, reaching its peak, and he heard Arabella's faint breathing, unrestrained and so natural in its arousal. He was encouraged, wanting to explore every corner of the inner wall, and he rocked his hips and moved up and down, panting as he lay on Arabella's back, his voice hoarse as he asked, "How about it? Little slut, have you leaked so much water from being fucked? Is your owner fucking you comfortably?"
In response was a faint moan, bold and passionate. For a moment, George felt a sense of disorientation, as if he had successfully tamed the beast beneath him, making her aroused, making her lose her mind, and the sense of taming and beautifying her made him feel triumphant. He looked into the red, wet vagina beneath him, where his large penis was being stretched and pulsating, and he freed up one hand to caress and tease the entrance. He moved up and down, fingering the clitoris, deepening the arousal and swelling of desire, deliberately delaying the intense sensation that was building up.
"Shake your naughty ass and beg your master for a reward. Hmm?" The voice was hoarse with desire, and George felt like he was about to explode, but he was still holding back her thrusts, determined to wear down Arabella's temperament, to push her to the brink, as if testing her resolve.
Little did he know, Arabella was unexpectedly compliant. Her body was perfectly proportioned—her hips not overly full, but her waist slim, and her arms bound above her, radiating an alluring, almost aggressive fragility.
"Master, please."
"Explain yourself. What are you, and do you remember the Bitch Code I told you about?"
"The bitch is the master's sexual toy, begging him to fuck her lowly cunt." Arabella's voice was still gentle, but beneath the degrading words she spoke, was the same unwavering tone, which George did not notice.
This sentence seemed to unlock the shackles of the beastly instincts, and George roared in delight as he thrust his huge, throbbing cock back and forth, deep inside her, sending waves of indescribable pleasure shooting up his spine and leaving him utterly lost in ecstasy.
He was about to ejaculate, and at such a critical moment, he hadn't had time to react. Arabella who had just been tied up by a dog leash and kneeling on the ground, being trampled, had already managed to escape. He stumbled and lost his balance, and if his own skills weren't quite good, he would have fallen flat on his face.
The next moment, the sharp sound of gunfire rang out from outside the villa. George had brought his elite guards, for in such a sensitive situation, going without attendants was akin to courting death. He barely managed to steady himself, but by then, Arabella had already disappeared, leaving behind only shattered fragments of broken chains scattered across the floor.
The chain snapped instantly?
George was slightly stunned, a trace of incredulity flashing in his eyes. His cock was still aroused, but the man who had just been on his knees like a dog was now gone.
He suddenly stopped worrying about the situation outside. His gaze fixed firmly on the broken chain, and at that moment, he realized the terrifying reality of Arabella. No matter how many soldiers were outside, anything in Arabella's presence would become lifeless.
The smoke outside the villa soon dissipated, and as sporadic gunshots still rang out, Arabella returned. She was still naked, holding an assault rifle she had presumably taken from somewhere outside, her face beaming as she said, "This game is quite fun. Next time, let's play it to the fullest."
The smile in Arabella's eyes reflected from her brow and lashes, like a steel blade piercing the air, stabbing into his throat. His breath immediately became shallow and choked.
He finally realized where the persistent weird feeling he had been experiencing earlier came from - SM is a feeling of total immersion for both parties, and he had become so deeply involved in the role that he believed he could truly control everything by just opening his mouth and having a penis, without realizing that the other person was watching him with cold eyes and having a great time playing along with him.
He wasn't insulting Arabella, he was insulting himself!
Both of them were naked, but his exposed big cock felt awkward in the air. Meanwhile, Arabella was outside, holding a gun and shooting. He imagined she must kill the same way—with a smile hiding a blade.
The world's number one expert in combat, a woman unmatched by any man to date, he finally understood where her terror lay.
