Page 260 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

Something in Master Grigori fills a hole in me I didn’t know I had… several, in fact. But now, because of my anger, he thinks I want the insipid Master Jeremy, something I cannot even fathom at the moment. Sorrow, an oddly familiar feeling, beats at my chest.

I try to turn, to look my Master in the eyes, but his fingers are implacable, an unmovable force that keeps me looking straight ahead. I’ve felt his wrath before. He’s painted it on my skin with such agonizing precision that I can hardly ever forget it.

But this is different. His touch is cold, aloof. In this moment, I rather him just punish me and get it over with. Hanging in this balance, on a wire that’s so razor thin hurts more than anything his dark mind can conjure up.

“Ahhhh, my little printsessa,” he murmurs, tightening his grip even more. “And here I thought I drove every bit of him out of your mind, filling you with me, and only me. Your true Master. I guess I just need to show you who you belong to again, don’t I?”

And there, in the silence, I hear it. The unmistakable sound of his zipper being undone. Oh. Oh God. Oh, please, no. Anything but that. Scrunching my eyes shut, I swallow the humiliation I know is coming. I brace myself, waiting for the hot splash of his piss against my skin.

It nearly killed me once, but doing it in front of everyone else is an embarrassment I’ll never recover from. How will I hold my head up high after this? Or maybe that’s the point? Demean me so low that I have no choice but to squirm on my belly in front of everyone. Hot, bitter tears gather in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

I still have a small bit of pride, and I’ll not give my Master the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart. However, after several agonizing moments go by, my head clears enough to hear another sound, one that I’m oddly grateful for. Hard grunts meet my ears, along with the sound of his hand stroking his cock.

Relief floods through me so hard that I would have fallen forward if Master Grigori didn’t have his hand still wrapped around the back of my neck. This is a punishment and humiliation I can handle. His cum has painted my body many times before these people, and so, doing it once again isn’t that big of a deal.

I kneel there, softening my body as I sink into my submission, waiting for the inevitable. Hot cum splashes against my back and slides down my spine as Master Grigori shouts his completion behind me. Though I’ve never been a fan of being coated in his fluids, I’ll take this any day over the alternative.

Bending low, he grazes the shell of my ear with his lips before biting the lobe hard enough I squeak out in discomfort. “Easy there, Chelsea. I already owe you one pony. I’m not looking to owe you another.”

And there it is, that heat in his voice, that soft chuckle, a hint of humor. It’s that tone that makes me know all is okay and well. I’m not getting out of a punishment, but at least he doesn’t hate me.

“Now, turn around and clean me off. Try to show me you can be a good girl.”

Not wasting any time, I turn, first looking up into his eyes. Though I can hear him, I need to see him. I need to know we’re okay. His gaze is shuttered, making my insides clench in unease. For the first time since being at Master Grigori’s feet, I’m uncertain.

I thought I always knew my place with him, but now… now I don’t know. Have I really fucked this up beyond all repair? “P-please, Master,” I stammer out, my confidence waning a touch. “I—”

“You can apologize to me later. Right now, I need you to obey me and do as I say. Everything I say. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” For once, I don’t know what to think.

I should be happy that there is at least a later for us. That should mean something… right? Driving my worry out of my mind, I concentrate on his cock, desperate to prove to him that I’m still his good little slut, that he’s the only one who consumes my thoughts.

Stretching my lips wide, I take his half-hard cock in my mouth, moaning at the feel of something being stretched by him. The salty tang of his cum coats my tongue, bringing my attention back to where the rest of it cools against my skin. He doesn’t have to cum or pee on me to show me that I’m his, my heart is already entangled.

Somewhere between that night he whipped me and today, I became irrevocably his. I just can’t seem to show it. I don’t know what’s so broken in me that I can’t convey what I need to. I’m tired of messing up, tired of always getting it wrong.

Just once, I want to actually be his good girl, but I don’t know how. Our love seems to be born of violence, and I can’t be a good girl and still get the harshness I crave. Can I?

The tears that have been gathering finally spill down my cheeks, coating my face and neck. Without letting me finish, Master Grigori pulls his cock out of my mouth and hunches down, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“Lastachka. Talk to me.”

Pulling back, I scrub at my eyes, horrified I even let one tear fall. Especially in front of the others. Shaking my head, I kneel there, my heart breaking in the silence. Without hesitating, Master Grigori scoops me up into his arms and lifts me high in the air.

“We will return.”

With strong, purposeful steps, he takes me to the bathroom, Sergei in tow. Was it really all that long ago Master Grigori and Ivan tormented me on that sink? How things have changed for us both. It’s almost surreal.

“Little bird big sad,” Sergei murmurs, swiping at an errant tear. “Where is strong cat that hisses and ruffles fur?”

Unable to resist, I chuckle, burrowing my face into Master Grigori’s shirt, staying still in his arms as the laughter turns into sobs. Not caring about his clothes or that he’s smearing his cum all over himself, Master Grigori wraps his arms around me, holding me close as my heart starts to break.

“Talk to me, Chelsea. I’ve never seen you act like this over a punishment. Where’s my stubborn girl who defies me at every turn? Hmmm?”

“But I don’t want to be that girl,” I finally wail, earning a raised eyebrow from both Master Grigori and Sergei. “I mean, God. I love it when you’re rough, and when you take me in hand, but… I’m not a horrible person. I’m not this monster everyone thinks I am. I just can’t stop fucking up.”

“Language, Printsessa. I will not have your pretty mouth sullied by such words. You are not a fuck up. You act rashly and impulsively, but that is why I am there to keep you in check. I give you rope, not to hang yourself with it, but to allow you the freedom you deserve. I never wanted a simpering submissive who just does what I say with no thought to their own feelings.”

---