This story was shamelessly inspired by Lady Gaga's wonderfully fetish-filled video for the song Bad Romance I cannot claim to have seen the story board, so this is my imagining of the motivation behind it. Lets hope she takes this story as a compliment & doesn't sue my ass!
Bad RomanceTalia woke up gradually, in the unfamiliar room, furnished sparsely with a bed, basin and a small mirror over it. She turned over and stretched tentatively, very sore from last night, her backside and upper thighs felt tender and bruised, she hoped she’d have stripes and marks, this always pleased her master, making her proud.
She’d bet her master’s room was more luxurious, with a huge TV, seating area and a deluxe marble bathroom. Of course he’d also need a wardrobe for his clothes, while Talia remained naked at all times unless dressed for a ‘scene’. It was almost the end of her week’s training as a submissive; it had been intense, intimidating, humiliating, freeing, and fulfilling in equal parts! She had been sub to her current dom for 6 months already, but the residential training had brought them closer together yet pushed boundaries.
Talia’s favourite thing about the D/s hotel was how fabulously equipped all the fetish play rooms were, normally Sir and she could only access the like if they went to a fet club, but here the rooms could be booked 24/7, for private or group play.
A gentle tap on her bedroom door alerted Talia to her second favourite thing about this residential visit, attendants took care of sub welfare, and it was time for breakfast. She hastened to splash water on her face, run fingers through her hair instead of a comb then stood submissively by the door, head bowed. A naked attendant held the door open and Talia followed her out, they stopped at a bathroom then headed for the cafeteria, serving yoghurt, muesli, fresh fruit, rye toast and scrambled eggs.
Talia made her selection from the healthy choices. Carrying her tray to a seat by the window, she sat down carefully, painfully aware of her bruises, she wondered if the stripes were visible to the other subs and flushed with heat - both pride and shame. A male attendant visited her table to enquire whether she wanted fruit tea, green tea or cranberry juice, Talia noticed his cock held captive in a metal restraint and felt sympathy for him. Nothing was done to prohibit females from becoming aroused, although the strict rule was that all orgasms belonged to a slave’s dom, with harsh punishment for those who came without permission.
Talia took her time over her small meal, which helped it to satisfy her better, and zoned into her own headspace while she sipped her second cup of superfruit tea. The morning was filled with a lecture on age play and a practical demonstration of edging as applied to hand jobs and fellatio - both enlightening - but Talia felt very sorry for the 2 male subs used as guinea pigs, their demonstrations didn’t result in being allowed to climax so surely their frustration was intense.
Lunch was much the same routine as breakfast, healthy options on offer for slaves to select, followed by a walk around the grounds of the hotel in the company of one’s dom (this gave the furry-play subs a chance to wear collars and leads) building the bond which was so important to their dynamic. Talia’s Dom was tall and dark, with intense grey eyes; whilst at the residential he’d worn dark grey or black t-shirts tucked into leather trousers with biker boots. His work attire was sharp suits and ties so this was quite relaxed, she felt a stab of desire when she looked at him, her insides turned to jelly by his commanding presence, her wish to please him overriding.
He instructed her to turn 360 degrees so he could admire the stripes from last night’s ‘pushishment’, then he’d tilted her chin to look into her eyes saying, “You’ve made me very happy.”
Talia flushed with pride and felt her slit moisten. How simple it was, really, to please Sir when, truthfully, she’d enjoyed the beating too! He’d strapped her to a fuck bench and worked his way up from a gently flogging to bare-handed spanking, lastly using a cane which had made the visible marks.
The restraint scenario had made Talia’s pussy drip with moisture, each tighten of the leather buckles around wrists and ankles making her throb, so trapped and controlled. He’d spread her legs apart to fasten them in place, on her knees with her rump in the air, she’d imagined how inviting she looked, the gash of her moist pussy spread wide by her posture. She’d groaned aloud with desire as Sir took a moment to play with her pussy and anus, spreading her copious, slick juices teasingly around the folds of her labia and clit, using his fingers to plough them into her tight sphincter muscle.
Humming and throbbing with sensation from her beating, he’d smoothed and stroked her heated rump and thighs with lotion before lubing up a vibrating anal plug and pressing it gently, but firmly, into her rear. Talia struggled to drag herself back from memories of her night of pleasure and pain, realising Sir was talking to her.
“Tonight’s a big night. I want you to impress the other Doms, have them drooling and lusting over you. Make ‘em so hard it hurts, really put on a show, the theme is burlesque.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’ll sit with the other doms, we’re going to watch each sub dance then bid for each according to how much we value them.”
“You’re auctioning me off?” her voice was small, shocked.
“No, not at all,” he soothed, stroking Talia’s blonde hair off her face, “Lose my little fuck-toy? When I’ve shaped you how I want you? Never!” His grey eyes fixed on hers, but without sincerity, more a desire to convince her it seemed. Fury flashed through her and a spear of betrayal stabbed her core. Her ‘bratty’ side rose to the forefront.
“I will not dance!” she wailed, gesturing angrily at him, her pert breasts jiggling “you can’t make me!”
“O can’t I?” he retorted, anger making his eyes flash. He gripped her wrist so hard she winced and dragged her over to a nearby bench, where he sat and pulled on her arm until she toppled into his lap, her bottom tilted upwards.
Before Talia had a chance to register shock, apprehension or a thrill, he’d raised his hand and begun spanking. She yelped and wriggled, it hurt a lot (mostly because she was already sore and bruised) and tears streamed down her cheeks even as her pussy throbbed with desire. She was so angry with her body for betraying her, in her fury she shouldn’t be aroused by this, but she was. She could feel juices gathering and running out of the split peach of her pussy, while her nipples hardened against his leather-trousered thighs.
“Enough!” he barked. “Get up and walk behind me. Don’t say another word, I’m very disappointed in you.”
Talia complied feeling mutinous, and now humiliated and frustrated. How dare he? She’d invested so much in moulding herself to his likes and dislikes, pushing both soft and hard limits, learning new ways to please him, now she questioned what he’d done other than throw money at the problem. As his slave she was his to command, but he’d brought the ‘little’ out in her, a bratty, teenage facet to her personality, and with that ‘I’m disappointed in you’ comment he was responding to it.
He handed her over at reception with instructions that she remain in her room until her evening assignment. Talia pouted and left without a backward glance, her sexual frustration heightening her anger and distress. Later when the attendants came to bathe and dress her she took her emotion and irritation out on them. Two female attendants wrestled to force her to drink some clear liquid, previous experience had proved this was a cocktail of an enema and something similar to strong alcohol which would relax her in about an hour’s time. After allowing her privacy in the ladies’ they led her to a bathroom to shower and wash herself; Talia simply stood there leaning on the enclosure while the water drummed down on the tiled floor without wetting her.
After about 10 minutes the 2 attendants stormed in, saw she was being obstinate and held her under the pounding jet of water, soaping her body and washing her hair, Talia sobbed with frustration at her impotence. Why had she committed to him? She’d let her guard down and allowed affection for her master to penetrate the chinks in her armour, and now he planned to pass her onto the highest bidder. It broke her damaged heart and she vowed to get revenge on him if she could.
The water was turned off and the attendants used several towels to dry her body and her hair. They made sure her pussy was still smooth, it had been waxed hairless on her arrival, but she lay on a therapist’s bed and they used a large magnifying glass and tweezers to remove any visible hairs. They massaged perfumed lotion into every inch of her skin, her buttocks and thighs having been pre-treated with some kind of bruise recovery cream. They also lubed her up and inserted a cold glass anal plug with a jewelled base.
Thalia sat still and passive as they blow dried her long hair into soft waves and applied dramatic makeup, smokey eyes and a nude lip. Her costume was elaborate but did not conceal her body, she wore a cap of diamante and pearls, which came over her eyes like a cage with widely spaced bars. A halterneck breastplate of pearl threaded mesh hung from her neck, through which her pale pink nipples could be seen. Held in place by invisible threads which fastened round her ribs, it made her back appear naked. A wide hip belt of diamante rested at the top of her sheer silver boyshorts. Her decolletage and shoulders were adorned with a dramatic necklace of crystal and pearl, matching the design layered over the front of her boyshorts. Her legs were naked, showing her pale luminous skin, but she wore knee high white pvc boots on vertiginous spiked heels.
The alcohol was taking effect making Thalia feel relaxed yet detached from the ministrations of the attendants. They told her she must dance and display herself for a group of powerful doms while a team of trained dancers followed her lead. She didn’t recognise the song they chose, but once the dancers carried her into the room and unfurled her from the mac decorated with graffiti she began to dance and strike poses. Her latent hostility made her rebellious, her moves were spiky and jagged, shaping her hands like claws, her expression snarling, while the backing dancers, in their white latex leotards and high heeled boots, followed suit.
“I’ll give them a freaking show!” she thought, posturing, kicking her legs and swinging her hips before dropping to the floor and crawling towards the audience, who sat together on chairs, sipping their drinks impassively. She crawled seductively towards the doms, many of whom were bare chested, clad only in leather jeans, some had tattoos and others wore metallic masks to hide their identity. She climbed onto Sir’s legs, as he sat at the front of the group, Talia proceeded to give him an erotic lap dance, grinding and writhing and rubbing herself against him, her naked breasts brushing his arms and chest, teasing him until she felt his erection grow hard in his trousers.
Talia put her lips close to his face, licking a line up from his jaw to his ear, and whispered, “I fucking hate you!” through gritted teeth. Sir reminded her of an evil villain from a James Bond film, surrounded by his henchmen, all he needed was an ugly pet, like a hairless cat!
She noticed the dom’s had an electronic pad with a joystick in the middle, and concluded this was the device they’d use to place votes or bids for her. Well she was a princess and should command a high price, so tossing her head she dismounted from Sir’s lap and, turning her back on the doms, leaned forward to grasp her ankles, giving them a great view of her rear and the diamante decorated glass plug glinting teasingly from her butt. She sashayed away, swinging her hips as she returned to the dancers, to bump and grind with sexy attitude until the music faded out. They put the mac round her shoulders again and carried her from the room.
Talia was returned to her cell, left alone she began to strip off the outfit she’d worn to perform, tossing the flimsy jewelled garments onto her single bed. Outside the screens recorded record responses for her dance, the numbers were going through the roof, her performance the most popular of the night. She was unaware that it had been watched by pay-per-view subscribers and that her dom didn’t intend to auction her off, instead (being a competitive guy) he was enjoying the kudos of having such a sexy, attractive kitten at his beck and call. There had been footage of her on-line in various outfits: microscopic black lace knickers, push up bra and fetish heels, a metal space age breast plate over silver and black lingerie.
When the on-line ratings proved without doubt that Talia was the most popular of all tonight’s contestants, the two attendants returned to her room to help her into a new lingerie-based outfit of red lace. They swapped her white stiletto boots for black, on one leg she wore a red lace stocking, the other just a lacy stocking top. Her bust was covered with a bandeau of the same red lace and the whole outfit was held together with a grid of broad red elastic strips which joined the bandeau to knickers and the stocking.
She was brought out to perform again, and danced more aggressively than before, clapping and stamping, getting into the rhythm of the track, with every move Talia was stimulated by the glass dildo buried in her butt. Her inhibitions were non existent now, she wanted to show Sir how hot she could be, to make him sorry he was throwing her out with the trash. Her eyes looked wild and dark, her pupils were dilated and silent tears tracked down her cheeks as she strutted and posed for her appreciative audience, making Sir proud (if only she knew it.)
Her anger burned in her chest, her master had disrespected her and Talia was fantasising as she danced. She would visit him looking like a rich pampered vixen, maybe wearing a gown made from a white fur pelt, the head of the unfortunate creature trailing behind her, dark glasses to hide her eyes and her lips painted a wicked slash of red. She would walk gracefully towards her master; who’d be seated on a king sized bed, expecting her to subjugate herself to him as before. But in her fantasy her underwear concealed blow torches in her bra. As Sir lay down beside her, expecting kisses and caresses, the nips and nibbles she would usually trail down his chest before releasing his swollen cock to lick and suck with gusto, Talia would instead activate the incendiary devices and cremate his cheating ass!