Woman of Imperturbable Superiority
He was kneeling, chained, helpless. His Domme Owner had put him in the basement last night.
She had ripped off his shirt. Then she pinched his exposed skin. Kicked him in groin and crotch. Then left.
She returned to the basement many hours later. He looked up at her in fear. Her face as always was impassive, undecipherable. He knew she enjoyed tormenting him. She never showed emotion.
He felt like a victim of a machine of destruction. To smile at his pain would humanize her. Her coldness made him worship her as a being for above him, more than mortal.
She had somehow acquired him, ripped him out his old life. He felt her imperturbable superiority the moment he saw her. She was part of something vast. He was at best negligible. A thing that served and amused her.
She used him as a convenience. Instead of teaching law and philosophy, he became a housemaid. Fear of speaking replaced long, learned conversations. He wondered, did she select him just to crush or erase his soul. To make him nothing.
He had been a proud man. Now he was a timid male who obeyed. Someone that suffered. Ignorant of why she hurt him. Unknowing of his future.
As she stood before him, he could not even hear her breath. What was she waiting for? Perhaps she could discern his fear. She waited for the moment he felt the most terror.
He shivered. The woman reached down. She grabbed his hair. Her fist pounded his face. Between blows, he caught her eyes. It was as if he were not there.