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Domination At Its Best
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 dont 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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