'It seems your cock is smaller than its prior tenants, I've not removed so many sections before.' He whimpered as she pulled the tube from the leather sheath and unscrewed the domed cap, grinning with sadistic pleasure as she showed him the three metallic spikes inside it.'No ... Please Mistress Bathsheba.' She pouted a feigned frown, then sneered sternly at him.'Oh you'll wear it, and we'll have no protests.' He pleased her by showing just a little resistance as she gagged him, muffling his protests as she buckled it nice and tight; it excited her to see his genuine fear at this new toy. As she slipped the tube back into the leather sheath, she was also pleased to see that the fear had softened his cock a little; she would soon have him hard and knowing the benefit of the spikes, and her cunt tingled as she slipped the tube over his cock and looped the harness round his balls, seeing his eyes close as his bell-end went up to be teased by the spikes. He tried hard not let his. She had scared him once already, let him see the one mark she had made, the first mark she had made in months. A mark she made because those feelings she tries to hide so deep came clawing back to the surface. Feelings she thought she had locked away for good. But feelings of being nothing, of being worthless, of feeling like trash are hard to lock away when it turns out they have a spark of truth in them. The mark that was mad, the mark he hates, was made because of her, was made so later more wouldn’t have to be done. She doesn’t want him to see anymore, doesn’t want to do it anymore, but her method is the base line, the first step, the least dangerous way. It’s the first in a line, in a line that has never been past the first step, although every step increases the danger. She doesn’t want him to know, doesn’t want anyone to know. No one needs to know her pain, no one needs to carry her burden, no one but her. It seems like she is trying to keep him at arm’s length, or pushing.
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