The Wrath Of The Ice King

6

WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BDSM

Christopher

I could only watch in terror, my tremblings hands covering my agape mouth, as the dominant continuously whipped the submissive, who, on the other hand, had been agonized for the past ten minutes. I hadn't seen anything as brutal as that. Utterly blind to the crimson blood dripping down the submissive's ravaged back, the dominant yelled at him to count, which the smaller had complied to, yelling out the number "seventy-nine!"

Seventy-nine wasn't a number to mess with in my opinion. Being whipped seventy-nine times seemed in BDSM seemed like sugar-coated abuse to me, especially when the submissive was evidently bleeding nonstop. What if he was injured? What if he forgot his safeword?

The fact that videos, as such, were up on the internet for the pleasure of billions to see made me feel ill. The comments were filled with people praising the dominant for handling the submissive in such a way, some even saying that he deserved even more humiliation and torture. Only a few were calling him out, saying that the punishment was too extreme and didn't fit the crime.

My eyes had been filled with tears as I listened to the taunting screams of the punished male, who barely cried out the number 'eighty-six' and breathe at the same time. What could he have done to deserve such brutality?

Despite how revolting the video was, I couldn't take my eyes off it. I wanted to get to the soft part, the part where the dominant dropped the act and took care of the submissive, built him up after breaking him apart, help him come out of the role as well.

I watched through the cracks between my fingers, my hands covering most of my eyes simply because I couldn't bear watch how scarred and destroyed the man's body was. His stomach had thin slices made with the whip as the dominant made sure to hit the same spots over and over again until he broke skin. Through my observations, I had come to the conclusion that not only was the dominant a sadist, but he was also ruthless and didn't seem to care about the submissive.

I pondered about the idea; didn't BDSM involve a romantic, loving relationship on the side? I searched the question, but because of the limit the program had installed, it didn't let itself step over its boundaries and refused to scavenge for the answer to my question.

I fast-forwarded to the ending, where the dominant walked close to the submissive, who was almost passed out. His body was being held up by the cuffs locked around his wrists, which were attached to the ceiling through a thin chain. Then, he spat in his face, making me gasp loudly at the disrespect and how low he had stooped. He then spread the spit all over his face, slapped him with all his might, then left the frame, not providing any comfort or love to the submissive, who had passed out.

I gave myself time to comprehend the video and what horrors it contained. If BDSM was indeed like that, or if Master wanted me to perform acts and scenes like that with him, I'd rather face death than participate. I needed comfort, and I knew I did because I identified myself as sensitive, timid, hesitant, maybe even fragile. I needed reassurance, and at that point, I was terrified for my life.

Wrapping my shaking arms around my slim body, I hugged myself and rocked back and forth, humming a small tune. One more video, I said to myself. After watching almost fifteen videos, I'd watch one more and make my decision based on that.

Before I could search up 'soft BDSM videos,' the computer started playing another video, with the submissive kneeling in front of him dominant. The boy was breathtaking with obedient, pure eyes that shone like emeralds and black, slightly curly hair. He was ready to follow orders and please his dominant, who sat in front of him, wearing newly cleaned boots.