That Little Nub

A brief vignette from the point of view of a lesbian slave.

That Little Nub

That little nub is always getting me into trouble. It leads me astray, rather than my being a dutiful pleasure slave to Mistress Desire. Seven times have I been unfaithful to my Mistress, going off to have sex with other women, simply because I could not resist my desires. I have a need to bury my tongue in the luscious labial folds of others.

     I have spent so many pleasurable hours on my back, with my Mistress on my face, as I have happily tongued her for hours without end. I have happily sealed my lips around the urethra of my mistress, so that I can taste the nectar of her golden rain. I would happy drink there forever, me on my knees, drinking down piss forever.

But, occasionally, it is not Mistress Desire’s pee which I drink, but that of other women, who have no claim on my soul or body. My little nub takes me astray.

     Seven times have I been unfaithful to Mistress Desire, and six times have I been punished. Each time has been terrible. Each punishment I truly deserved.

     The first punishment I begged for, although I had no idea what the punishment might be. Mistress Desire, in her anger at my unfaithfulness, had threatened to banish me forever, to become the slut of others, no longer to taste my Mistress Desire’s sweet spend. But I could not live without my mistress. Not to be her slave would be worse than death itself. So I had begged.

     “Please, Mistress Desire.” I had sobbed. “Please do not send me away. Please punish this worthless slut. Do whatever you want to me, but do not send me away.”

     Mistress Desire punished me. She attached me to her horrible, sadistic shock machine, attached cruel, bulbous probes, and a suction device on my treacherous clit. And then she shocked for longer than she ever had before, and on a level of power which had not yet touched my body. I screamed in a paroxysm of agony, and it pleased my Mistress to see me so punished; and it pleased me that my Mistress was pleased, no matter how much it had hurt at the time.

     For a long time after that I was faithful to Mistress, for those shocks had been terrible, and I feared feeling them again.

But memory is a funny thing, and I forgot how terrible that punishment had been; and, once again, my clit led me astray, to enjoy the nectar of another woman. It was an act of treason which I admitted to my Mistress.

     “Please, Mistress Desire.” I had sobbed, yet again. “Please do not send me away. Please punish this worthless slut. Do whatever you want to me, but do not send me away.”

     “It seems that you have forgotten your lesson.” she had said, with a look of contemptuous cruelty on her beautiful face. “It must be repeated. But, perhaps, if I make it longer, you will remember that you are the pleasure slave of me, and me alone.”

     The electrics were brought out again. Once again I was shocked on a level that was pure torture, and brought not even the hint of pleasure to my body. Volt after volt flowed through me, between my vulval walls and my clitoris, that part which had led me astray. I screamed out my agony in our play room, knowing that no voice would penetrate beyond its sound-proofed walls. My body was turned rigid time and time again. For twice as long as before did Mistress Desire shock me. It was terrible. It was deserved.

     Time and time I screamed out my safeword; and time and time again it was ignored. Finally my wonderful Mistress Desire showed mercy, and the shocks ceased. I told her, through my tears, that I would never betray her again. And, at the time, I believed her, even though part of me knew that my clitoris, so desiring of being played with by others, would lead me astray again.

     “Slave, do not betray me again, for your own sake.” Mistress Desire had said, at the time. “The shock machine does no permanent damage to you, and there are higher levels of agony to still explore. And there is no limit to the time I can make you convulse.”

     I nodded, and thought that I would behave. But, four times more, my clitoris, desperate for the touch of others, would betray the Mistress I love more than anyone else who has ever been born.

Three times more I suffered terrible agonies from that electric shock machine, of a kind that I believe is so beloved of dictators and juntas around the world. Each time the level of power was increased, as I explored agonies which I had believed impossible, levels of pain which I had not conceived. Each time that I was justly punished the time was increased.

     On the last punishment, the sixth, my Mistress devoted an entire day to this recalcitrant slut. On and off for that whole day I was shocked. I begged for a release which I knew would not come. I begged to eat my Mistress’s shit; and that was granted, but not until the punishment was complete. Such were my infernal agonies that I begged Mistress to kill me. Mere words can never do justice to such pain.

     Afterwards, when my private hell had ended, there was not a mark to be seen on my body. But my mind… I did not think that I would ever be the same, after those electric agonies of the damned. I would have to rest up for days before I could resume my duties as Mistress Desire’s willing pleasure slave.

When the punishment had ended my merciful Mistress had stroked my sweat-drenched face and body.

     “It appears that the electrics are not working.” she had said. “Should you betray me again I think that I will have to look at something… more permanent.”

I had betrayed her again. Mistress did not get out the shock machine. Instead I was ordered into her car. I did not say anything. But I feared for the future of my clit. But, perhaps, without it, I could be the sort of pleasure slave I desired to be.

     Mistress drove me to the house of a woman I had never seen before. The woman had a shock of spiky magenta hair, and was covered with tattoos. I found her very desirable. I would have loved to eat her out for hours, as she toyed with my little nub.

     I was led into a parlour which had a gynaecological table.

     “You can do the operation?” Mistress Desire asked.

     “Yes. It won’t be a problem.” the tattooed woman said.

     “Slut, get undressed and in the chair.” Mistress Desire said. Shivering with fear I disrobed. I climbed into the gynaecological chair.

     “I don’t want her to feel any pain.” my Mistress said.

     “I will give her a general anaesthetic. I don’t want her moving around while I’m cutting her, or it might spoil things.”

A hypodermic needle entered a vein. The nepenthe of artificial sleep descended.

When I woke up I was still in the gynaecological chair. I didn’t feel any pain. I looked down at my crotch, expecting to see a blank space where my clit had been. Instead I saw some sort of metal pouch covering the area. It had a tiny keyhole in it.

     My Mistress stood beside me.

     “You clitoral hood has gone.” she told me. “It has been replaced with a clitoral chastity belt, sewed into your flesh with a metal thread which cannot be cut, and will never break. Your clit is now covered, and I have the only key. The shell can be removed, to leave a ring of metal only a few millimetres high. Your clit, even at full erection, will never contact the shell. It cannot be touched by you or by anybody else. Only I can, in the future, ever touch your disobedient clit. Only I can bring pain or pleasure to it. From now on I control your orgasms, for the rest of your life. What do you think of it?”

     “It is beautiful, mistress.” I said. I could hardly wait to get home to bring my wonderful Mistress to the ultimate pleasure she truly deserved.