Cylinder

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He's testing a new device on you.
1.5k words
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WFEATHER
WFEATHER
1,906 Followers

Despite the long voyage, this is the first time you have entered this particular cargo chamber, only to find that it is not completely empty as you had expected. you have not seen this before, but you have heard Me speak about acquiring it.

"It" is a tall empty cylinder, seemingly made of glass, upon a black metal base. Near it is a raised console, its lights and buttons glowing or flickering.

"Strip." A simple yet profound command, My voice resonating in the nearly-empty chamber.

I watch appreciatively as you slowly undress, admiring your body as it is revealed to My gaze. your clothing in a pile at your feet, your eyes display both curiosity and nervousness at what is to come. Hoping to calm you, I pull you close, and you hold Me tightly.

you are nervous indeed, for I can feel you tremble just slightly. My hands move across your exposed flesh, caressing you, until you at last step back slightly and gaze up into My eyes.

I recognize that you are now ready.

I gesture toward the cylinder and you obey My unspoken order as I move toward the raised console. At the touch of a button, the cylinder rises into the ceiling and, after drawing a deep and loud breath, you step onto the platform. I press another button, and the cylinder descends until it locks into the platform, sealing you inside its cocoon.

you have little space in which to move, but you are able to bring your hands up to chest level and press them against the confining alien enclosure.

I begin with something you enjoy, but put a different twist on it.

you hear a soft sucking sound coming from above you, and you look up to find that fine holes have appeared directly above you. It is clear what is happening: The oxygen is being slowly sucked from the narrow chamber. Between the work of the hidden machine overhead and your own natural breathing, you will eventually run out of useable oxygen.

Leaving the console, I come to you, but the cylinder prevents Me from touching you. W/we press O/our hands against the transparent barrier. I note the trust in your eyes, and that trust heartens Me, but I also note how the uncertainty dances within you during this "assisted rebreathing" process.

In time, you begin to wheeze, the sound muffled by the barrier which separates U/us. I long to hold you as the oxygen deprivation truly begins, but there is not enough room inside the cylinder for Me to join you... nor would it be safe for U/us B/both to be confined at once.

In time, you begin to "struggle." your hands move upon the glassy barrier. you begin to look around your narrow area, and I watch you closely as your rational mind attempts to hold your instinct to panic at bay.

your naked chest heaves. your lips are open wider, your exhalations condensing upon the alien barrier. your fingers begin to claw at the glass as your instinct to breathe fresh oxygen surfaces within you. I still stand at the cylinder, and your eyes silently implore Me to allow you a breath – a single breath – yet I remain beside the cylinder.

Master, your lips form,please...

I look into your eyes, deep into your soul. you clearly have a profound trust and respect for Me, and deep within you, you know that I will not allow any harm to come to you despite the kinky and painful and dangerous activities which W/we enjoy. But I also see that you are close to using your safegesture.

As you begin to slowly crumple to your knees, I make My way back to the raised console. I watch a few seconds more, enjoying how you kneel upon the platform, your legs naturally spread as you have been trained even as your mind tries to control the instinctive panic swelling within your chest.

With the press of a button, I change your predicament. At last, oxygen begins to flow back into the cylinder, as does something new: cold air. The expression of relief is clearly evident upon your face as your lungs fill with fresh oxygen, but what intrigues Me most is just how quickly your nipples become hardened points adorning your soft breasts. I am also amazed at just how long it takes you to realize that your unprotected body is shivering.

That is when I add the water, tumbling gently upon you from above. The shock of the cold water upon your cooled skin rips a scream from your lungs, the same lungs which seemingly just seconds earlier had been struggling to survive. your wide eyes stare at Me is disbelief as I grant you a wicked smile, thoroughly enjoying your reactions and your growing distress.

But, of course, a sick slave is not My goal, so I quickly raise the temperature of both the air in the cylinder and the water rising up past your knees as you kneel upon the platform. The water continues to slowly rise – up your thighs, past your hips...

"Masturbate," I command aloud, so that you can hear Me through the alien barrier. "Do not cum."

With a little reluctance and a slight blush to your face and chest, your hand dips into the warm water and you obey. your free hand pressed to the glass to balance yourself, your fingers dance between your thighs, and as the water rises to your chest, your torso rocks against the action of your fingers, your lips parted as you implore Me with need-filled eyes. Admittedly, your wonton display only adds to the erotic nature of the scene, but the raised console hides My arousal from your view.

I stop the flow of water as it reaches your dainty neck. Still you touch yourself, clearly approaching a desired orgasm. I can hear your panting and moaning, and it fills Me with pride that I can have such an effect upon you, upon your body.

Yet again, I manipulate the controls upon the console, and from beneath you, a powerful jet churns the water. Almost instantly, certainly due to desperation, you reposition yourself just slightly so that the jet of water blasts your clitoris.

"Ride the jet," I call out loudly so that you can hear My new command. I had not instructed you to stop masturbating, however, so I mentally note this fact when I notice that both your hands are braced against the curved barrier.

your sounds of passion grow louder, more intense. your need is aurally evident, but what brings a wicked grin to My lips is to hear you beg, your needful voice pleading for release, your fist banging the alien glass as I shake My head to deny you a little longer, your face contorting as you struggle to delay the inevitable as long as possible...

The water level suddenly drops back down to the level of your waist, the powerful jet continuing to buffet you. With the press of another button, your cries of need instantly transform into screams of pain as a brief and powerful electric charge courses through the water which surrounds you, making you convulse as your shrill voice fills My ears. Again and again, brief, powerful currents shock the water, shock you, and your body and your voice respond accordingly. In a way, I am reminded of the final confrontation between Luke Skywalker and The Emperor inReturn of the Jedi, with Me as The Emperor and you as Luke Skywalker.

you debase yourself further, begging for mercy in the brief respites between shocks. Each plea ends in a renewed scream due to another strong electrical surge within the water. Every scream strokes My ego and heightens the respect I have for you and for your complete and devoted submission to Me. your pain brings a sadistic grin to My lips as My fingers work the controls upon the console.

When I at last recognize that you likely cannot take much more of the electricity, I turn off the powerful jet and make the water drain into the platform. I watch proudly as you breathe hard from the ordeal, your head drooping, your pained moans of distress sweet music to My ears.

Pressing one more button, I make the cylinder rise into the ceiling, and approach the platform. Kneeling beside you, I take you into My arms, kissing you as you lean into My chest, My fingers quickly finding your womanhood.

...and wasting no time in bringing you to climax, for you have indeed earned it.

As you calm from your release, the ship's computer softly announces that the Solteryn system is just four light-hours away. Carefully, I lift your limp body and carry you to the bridge of O/our small private starship, settling you into the comfortable Co-pilot's chair so that you can watch the stars in those final few moments before you succumb to a well-deserved nap.

WFEATHER
WFEATHER
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4 Comments
Abram52Abram526 months ago

Pretty bad really

AnonymousAnonymousover 2 years ago

BS

JudyLeeJudyLeeover 8 years ago
Tenae.

I read this through, but I didn't like the sadistic nature of the story. I'm sure it caters to a different type. It was well written, though.

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago

Wow. So many ways to play with death and yet he respects her. Bullshit. A part of me wishes that some one would have the balls to write a story wherein the sub is actually damaged since death fics aren't allowed. How do all these super doms know that magical point where the body says enough and stops? Playing chicken with the Grim Reaper is such a hot fantasy.

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