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She sucks her breath in fast and a decision is made,
faster than she can think. She sinks needfully to her knees and with eyes
closed moves swiftly in the direction of his hand. Cigarette tip glowing
hot near her tit and circling her puffy, aching nipples There is a brief
instant, a flash of contact, and she grinds against his hand. Rocking
against the live ember, again and again, pulsing against him in a frenzied
dance. Her heart beats quickly, as if responding to the rhythm he calls.
Finally, she falls against the burning finger, and the last ember burns
into the globe of her tit, sizzling there. It made the sound of any meat
sizzling on a flame. She senses the sharp sting of fire -- hot and then
oddly, cold. At the same time, she smells her own body burning. It
surprises her, the smell and the sensation, they seem incongruous. She
inhales the shreds of smoke, pulling him through her. The surreal pain,
the stench of her burning flesh, for Him, being what He needs and what she
is desperate to experience, a pig, fuckmeat, tortured intimately, loving
at his hand. Pain is experience as an overwhelming sexual buzz.
Never before having felt fortunate, proud that my humiliation, degradation
is at the hand of a man so extraordinary it frightens me to think I could
fall from his grace. He knows I would rather leave this world than be
without Him. I cannot speak of my adoration and love without feeling the
words don’t tell of what is within my soul. I lower my eyes in Worship, my
Owner, my God.
It moved like a swarm of bees through her cunt, her ass, deep into her
womb and the deepest pit of her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to
please him. She feels his hand holding the instrument of pain he plays on
her tender, beautiful body, and she stays still, afraid to move. He
stands, breaking all contact, and she falls against the couch, tits
swaying, moving slowly to the side, and at last settling heavily there.
He grabs the tortured flesh between thumb and forefinger, that long, fat
nipple growing instantly at his touch. His grip tightens without concern
as he yanks on her tight nip, putting his shoulder into the movement.
A hoarse groan escapes her lips, as her eyes open wide. His strength
tumbles her forward onto the rug, belly first, as though she were dead. He
licks her blood from his fingers, and find small bits of her blackened
skin on his lip. Wiping them on his shirtsleeve, his toe pushes against
her shoulder turning her on her back. The bloody tit had smeared her
stomach and face. She watched him, not moving, her eyes filling with tears
he thought would never spill. He surveyed her face for insight to what was
in her head. He watched her lips tremble. " i breathe only to bear your
pain, to bathe in your love."
He pondered for a moment whether to comfort or go further. Pacing back a
few steps, turning his back to her, he demanded quietly, "Sit." Her
response was so quick, it surprised them both. She flipped to her
knees...arms along her legs, hands palm up, her head tilted back exposing
her neck, her eyes locked on his. Her jaw was set. He saw this. He whirls
on the ball of one foot, his arm outstretched, the back of his hand
catching her across the cheek. The blow lifted her ass from her knees and
sent her tumbling backwards, ass burning across the carpet, the side of
her knee rubbing raw. She fought the wave of darkness, as she curled
around herself in the fetal position, biting her lip hard to find the
clarity of the pain, to let it focus her. She was determined to not lose
consciousness, to remain with him.
Very slowly she blinked her large eyes and long lashes, the smear of
makeup making her beauty somehow more human. Her vision cleared, and she
felt fear writhing in the pit of her stomach. It confused her, the
contradiction.... of fear at her core and an awareness of growing
excitement, of wetness. How far would he take her? Could she be graceful
and vulnerable throughout? She felt the vibration of his step on the soft
floor, and sensed him standing over her, the sound of him unzipping his
jeans made her raise her head like a startled, eager bird.
A bright flash of pain from where his hand landed, slowed her for only a
moment. The adrenaline instantly blocking some of the throbbing in her
body, and she welcomed the warm flow of urine, splattering over her face,
her tits...her belly. The piss stung her nipple briefly as she opened her
mouth quickly, hungrily to meet the stream.
She caught it and drank greedily thinking i have lost too much ... He saw
blood from her inner cheek mixed with his piss and her saliva, the flow
trailed off and ended. Concentrating on the sting in her eyes, awkwardly
groping and slipping she moved toward him, wanting to assume her kneeling
position, but somehow unable to find it.
She gasped as she felt her head jerked backwards, throwing her off
balance, his fist holding a knotted shank of her hair. He raised her, by
her hair, from the floor to standing. She felt like a bit of ash in his
hand, as if she was a fallen ember and he was the kick of the wind. Had he
let her go, she would have simply collapsed.
He reached to her face, and gently wiped her eyes clear. The eyes were
red. She was trembling, and sobbing uncontrollably. He could feel a hint
of hysteria, but also her fight to remain available to him. His right hand
cracked across her right cheek, and was echoed by a crack across the left.
Without pause the right cheek again...then the left. She was so thankful
for his touch.
She went somewhere inside, somewhere dark and soft, a deep hollow. She
felt no pain, just the thudding blows against her tissue. She felt herself
urinating. She heard a buzzing, and felt it travelling through her. There
was heaviness in her legs, she just let go, and she gave in to gravity,
and let her legs be gone from under her.
As she became too heavy for him to hold with one arm, he dropped her. She
saw bubbles floating to the surface and was aware that her breathing was
ragged. She floated upward on one of the bubbles but she didn't want to
open her eyes. She imagined she was going to die. She thought about the
idea of dieing and it held no fear. Her brow wrinkled it seemed wrong, not
to fear death....
She had no sense of time and could only feel a pounding in her breast and
a blinding headache unfolding. He yanked her from these thoughts by a
fistful of hair...bringing her to her feet again. "Stay. Stand," he
directed. She now felt terrified. She couldn't. She was going to fail
him... But as he held her, by only her hair, he was shocked to find legs
again. Though wobbling and shifting in an almost humorous fashion, she
managed to remain standing.
A cold slap. Cold??? She turned her cheek for the next... Hot and cold
seemed to blend. Cold. This was cold. Her cheek lolled against her
shoulder and she felt the coarseness of the toweling he had thrown at her.
It felt wonderful on her face. Like medicine, cutting away the throb in
her temple.
Ohhh, she sighed thinking at last of how she must look to him. Her arm was
so very heavy as she moved the towel clumsily over her face. Her lip
catching on it as she found herself sobbing, out-loud and deeply. She
sniffed, pulling hard at air through her nose, she struggled to fill
herself with air as if it would help her remain standing. Her mind
raced... searching to understand. Searching to feel the ground again, to
find words...she was thankful. he...had given her this towel.
She ran the dampness across her face, her stomach, throat and tried to
wipe her hair... Her arms sank to her sides. She simply hadn't the
strength to hold the towel up and rub. She just held the damp cloth to her
face, cradled there... with her neck. She was sorry her skin warmed it,
sad. One eye was open and she was looking at him.
He sat on the arm of a chair. She swallowed, and drew in another deep
breath. She pulled the towel from her face, and made an attempt to fold it
for him. It fell to her knees in a sloppy version of offering. She began
to sob again. Holding her palms upward on her knees though they ached to
reach her face and cover it.
Her attention moved through her body , checking. She sensed that nothing
was broken. And laughed in odd giddiness.... she was not going to die. She
couldn't possibly die. It would hurt too badly to never be with him again.
She cleared her throat, "Your pig is here for You, my Lord. i feel Your
marks on me...and it warms this whore that you would so love... Take what
you will, Master... my life if You choose. i am a living, breathing
thing...a stupid fucking cunt ,bitch Sir. How can you bear to look upon
me?"
She sobbed and it hooked into the words, catching them as they fell from
her. She didn't know where they came from, they just dropped from her
mouth.
She looked around dazedly. She saw the group, all had an interesting
frozen look on their faces... It occurred to her that she was doing
well...pleasing Master. His shoe was on her tit. She looked down at it, as
it pushed her. She fell heavily backwards from her knees, banging her
head. "Hold your tits up for me pig." She squeezed her large tits together
from the side, trying to make them do what he demanded. He straddled her
and sat on her stomach.
She couldn't breathe. She struggled to catch her breathe and began to
writhe autonomically. He slipped back to her pubic mound and she gasped
several deep breaths. He was holding two large rings. He opened one and
the pin of the ring was released. The rings were heavy. Unceremoniously,
he placed the pin against one nipple and it hardened immediately. "Very
nice, you fucking piece of garbage."
"Thank you, my Lord". He applied pressure and the pin began its way
through her flesh. Breaking the skin required more pressure. Then
with a small thump of his finger against her nipple, the pin pierced her
skin. She moaned loudly, "oh god, oh god, oh god....", she
chanted as he worked.
"Start cumming very slowly." No sooner had the words left his mouth, than
she was writhing in orgasm. "Keep it low, cunt," he admonished. She
obeyed. He pushed the pin through the nipple, feeling the tissue give way
to the pressure. They both watched as the pin tip pushed the skin out as
it searched for an exit. She was amazed to watch her skin moving, to feel
his fingers on her. She felt as though he were in her.
She caught his eyes, "Your whore loves you so, Master...more than life."
She began to cry again as the pin broke through her nipple
and he pulled the ring around, clicking it in place. He did the other,
much more quickly, as though he were stitching a tough piece of leather.
He tugged hard on each ring to be certain they were in place and firmly
set. He drew a piece of raw cord from his jeans pocket, and looping it
through both rings, tied a knot.
When he pulled, the tits slid together. He pulled hard to test. The raw
flesh was on fire. He stood, pulling on the cord. Pulling at her like a
wretched mutt on a piece of twine. "Get up whore". She got to her feet,
raised in part by the pull on her nipples.
He called two names, one male, one female. These people made their way to
the scene. "Each of you take an arm...hold her tightly. Brace yourselves
against her movements." "Cum hard now, cunt," and he yanked on the cord he
still held taut. He knew tits well, he knew what they generally could &
couldn't take He pulled on her nipples and tits with what seemed like all
he had.
She felt the tug in her soul. At the same moment demanded, an orgasm raced
through her. She had never felt this before. she could feel this orgasm
all over her body. It was in her thighs, her feet. it spread across her
belly. It was in her hands and toes. And centered in her pussy, her clit,
burning in her tits and nipples. "Cum harder, fucker. The hardest you've
ever cum. I want your entire body cumming. Do not stop...understand? You
are nothing but cunt." She nodded, wild eyed and convulsed as the two held
her...kept her on her feet and he yanked again.
Her nipples were swollen and blood splattered. Her tits seemed at their
max. "Continue to cum," he directed, dropping the cord and sitting down.
He asked the two helpers to just drop her. They did. She fell to the
floor, jerking and thrusting her hips...squeezing her own tits...pulling
at the cord herself, lost in an orgasm that felt as though it could have
no end.
After 15 minutes, and some interesting observations shared with people in
the group, he returned his attention to her. She still shook, just less
violently. "Is My whore still cumming for me?"
"uh huh...". it was a hoarse, gasping sound...and she was nodding her head
yes. "Stop now pig." Her body stopped.
He took her in, his arms circling her. She was matted with sweat, blood
and juices. The floor was sticky where she lay. She panted. Her eyes still
looked wild. "You've done fairly well, dog. I think you deserve a treat."
She looked up and saw him standing above her. "My pig, you may drink My
milk."
Her heart raced and again the excitement overrode her weakened body and
she struggled to her knees. Her hands shook horribly, but she unbuttoned
his jeans, and lowered the zipper.
She looked down to find the cord that was attached to her tits. She picked
up the end and offered it to him. "Hurt your pig?" she asked with wide
eyes. He took the twine, and as she took the full length of him, he yanked
hard. Every sentence punctuated with a snap of the cord.
She ate him hungrily. Knowing nothing could make her happier than feeling
him give her his cum, of having the privilege of holding that bit of his
life inside her, nourished by it... like a sacrament. She swallowed him,
swallowed all of him. He caught in her throat and it closed around him,
contracting autonomically, against her will. She swallowed him still,
happily.
While she sucked, he asked two males watching to each grab a tit. They
did. And she continued to work him. "Squeeze those tits as though your
milking this cow. Draw down the flesh and get those nipples to bleed".
They did this. She moaned, the vibration carrying over his cock. They
squeezed with all their strength, surprised she was handling it all.
As they continued getting closer to the nipples, the blood found its way
to the wounds he had created, and it dripped steadily, drop by drop from
her. He reached down and taking careful aim slapped her right tit as hard
as his angle could allow. She never broke her stride. Her head bobbed,
lips tight around his cock, tongue swirling over the head. He wiped the
blood on his hand in her hair, as one would use a rag.
He was there...and as he came she gulped pushing her face as close as
possible, gagging over and over pulsing in little waves on his cock. He
finally had to back her off when he had finished.
It had been just over two hours since it began. He picked her up and
carried her to a hot bath someone had drawn. He took a large sponge and
washed her tenderly. Then he went to shower, leaving 3 other slaves to
wash her, care for her hair and the details of pampering her back to
feeling reasonably well.
As the others watched, she emerged from the bathroom looking lovely
despite the puffy face. She opened her robe for his inspection as she sat
on his knee. He applied an antibiotic ointment to her nipples, deciding
they would heal nicely...now adorned in silver.
The group broke and a loving passed between them as they talked into the
night...that few would understand. |
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