Blinded by the Light

"Yes, Ms. Maxwell, how can I help you today?" He wanted to drop to his knees and kiss her feet but he knew better.

"I need a mortgage," she said, "Fifteen-year I'm thinking. I found the most glorious house and I can't let it get away." Normally, Bob didn't handle mortgage products but he was not going to let her leave his desk. He stalled. He asked her all sorts of questions about the house, how many bedrooms, when it was built, if she had it inspected, anything he could think of before he had to come clean and acknowledge that he had to send her to someone else in order to help her.

Elaine understood and then said, "Well, maybe you can come and see it and give me some feedback on what you think about it, if it's a good investment."

She didn't have to ask twice. Bob was following behind her car minutes after the bank closed. They pulled into a long, private, winding driveway and drove up to an absolutely gigantic house. They couldn't get in and they couldn't see much of anything in the windows because the lights were out. It was getting dark and Bob could barely see the green and brown bruises that were healing on his hand in the dusk. It was then that Elaine made her offer.

"I'm looking for a real slave. I want to own, use, mistreat, and abuse a slave, take away all their rights as a human being. The only rights they will have will be the ones I give them. I thought you might be interested considering you're such a warped, fucked-up individual."

Bob was dumbfounded. He stuttered. "I can't do . . . what would make you think . . . I have a life . . ." He was grasping for words, feigning indignation.

Elaine cut him off, "No you don't. You don't have a life. You're a loser. You have a mediocre job and no one who cares about you. You are sick and twisted and you're a true pig. You want what I have to offer. Think about it. I'll give you a couple of days. If you decide you want to do it, we'll have to start making arrangements to make sure there's no trace of you for anyone to follow. We will have to sell off all your assets, close out all your accounts, we'll have to make sure you don't exist anymore. In return, I'll torture and abuse you more than your little feeble mind can comprehend." She turned, got in her truck, and drove off.

Bob pulled out his cock and stroked it furiously and feverishly in the open night air. He wanted it. He didn't have to wait a couple of days to make his final decision. He knew from that day in the parking lot he would do anything that she asked of him with no limits.

So, for six weeks, he said his goodbyes, he sold off everything he owned and put the money in an account he had created for his new Mistress Elaine. He was upside down on his mortgage so they decided the best thing for him was to just walk away from it. Who cares about a FICO score if you are a piece of shit who belongs to a deranged psychopath who gets pleasure from inflicting excruciating pain? They had a party at the bank with cake and a card and everyone wished him well on his new journey in life. As the day grew closer, as the time grew nearer that he would give up his existence and become a thing, he stayed constantly horny.

Finally, the day did come. Mistress Elaine picked him up in front of the train station with his one suitcase filled all his worldly possessions. Anyone who noticed him would think he was being picked up by a friend. What no one would ever suspect was that he was about to begin his life as a piece of property, a thing, an animal.

They drove the 20 minutes or so to their new house. This time, Elaine Maxwell was the owner of record and she had the keys. The house was already decorated and furnished but Bob would only see the upstairs portion of the house briefly. She ushered him to a doorway, opened it and indicated that he should go first.

The lower level of the home had been converted to a custom dungeon. There were no windows and there was a cage in the middle of the floor and torture and restraint devices, of every type, all over. His first night he suffered more mental anguish than physical. He was made to strip naked and placed in the cage and given a bowl of dog food and water. The cage was big enough for a large dog but not a human. Once he was securely locked in, Elaine patted him on the head, turned off the lights and went upstairs. She didn't explain anything, she didn't make any demands. He could hear her walking around and he waited for the door to open and for her to begin his mistreatment but it was not to come that night.

Or the next.

Bob waited. He listened to visitors come and go, presumably neighbors and friends bringing house warming gifts. He didn't know for sure because he couldn't hear the conversations clearly, he just knew he was starving and wanted some real food. He did not eat the dog food. He refused. He drank all the water and needed more. He used the bathroom in the corner of the cage on newspaper like a puppy and tried his best to block it out of his mind but he was going crazy. The smell seemed overpowering. He regretted this choice. He wanted his life back. He tried to sleep because when he was asleep he didn't have to think about his circumstances. His legs were cramped and he wanted to stand up straight. He couldn't. He was afraid to cry out but he was going out of his mind.

Finally, he heard the door open. He begged, he pleaded for real food, for more water. He groveled like a prisoner on death row begging for his life on his way to the gas chamber. And the Divine Goddess Maxwell granted him a reprieve. She unlocked the cage and opened the door. That quickly, after all that begging, he was afraid of what would happen if he left the cage. He wanted to cower in the corner but the corner had his piss and shit there. He tentatively crawled on his hands and knees and placed himself at his owner's feet. Even though he wasn't standing, he felt freer.

Then, without warning, he felt the intense blow of her foot connecting with the side of his head. Her shoe landed directly on his ear and he was dazed and he thought for a moment that she had ripped his eardrum. There was no foreplay, no teasing, no sexy banter, she just kicked him in the head. His pain meant nothing to her. His life, comfort, safety, and opinion meant nothing to her. As much as Bob knew it was fucked up, he was aroused in a way that he had never known before.

Over the course of the next few months, Mistress Maxwell experimented and tortured Bob in ways that most people couldn't imagine. She forced anything and everything she could find into his pisshole. It was nothing for her to grab his cock through the bars of the cage and shove a pen, a mascara brush, a screwdriver, or a toy she found at a garage sale. Nothing was off limits. His balls served as target practice any time of the night or day. She delighted in coming home after a night out to wake him up to hang extreme weights on his testicles and she would kick his nuts until he passed out. It was like a nightcap for her, a hot toddy to help her sleep. Knowing that she was inflicting pain, unspeakable pain soothed her. More than that, it aroused her.

His asshole was favorite body part to punish. Unlubricated, she forced things deep inside him, stretching him, making his hole a cavernous pit of depravity. Her anal punishments registered as pleasure in Bob's brain and there were times he would release cum as she fucked his sloppy pit with enormous dildos. He would be punished for ejaculating and she would make sure he suffered, writhing in pain to pay for his pleasure.

She branded him. It wasn't some intricate design she had made in the shape of an M or her name, it was a coat hanger she bent with some pliers and heated to glowing red. Bob got an infection from the first brand. She would re-brand him every few weeks, making the scar more intense. She loved hearing him scream in agony. The first time she branded him however he got so sick, his temperature spiked and he was moving towards the light. She took him to a doctor who pumped him full of antibiotics. The doctor asked all sorts of questions, about the burns, about the scars and bruises, about the blood work that indicated extreme malnourishment and anemia, the broken ribs. Bob knew not to answer. He couldn't really, he was too sick. The doctor wanted to admit him to the hospital to run some more tests but Elaine convinced him that he just needed to convalesce in the comfort of his own home. She just failed to mention that the comfort of his home was a cage 5 feet by 3 feet by 4 feet.

There wasn't a torture that she didn't try on him. The list was extensive and Bob grew to tolerate levels of pain he never thought possible. She truly had pushed him to a place where he was beyond human. He could take beatings, whippings with paddles, whips, canes and eventually he would ask for more. The greatest torture was when she would ignore him. The sweetest sound he had ever heard was the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, wearing a new pair of high heels and she would stand on him, kick, trample, and stomp him nearly to death, literally. His nipples were elongated and sensitive, his tits filled with saline injections and clamps and weights constantly made sure he was aroused.

Days turned to nights and without the sound of another voice, Bob was becoming feral. He wasn't allowed to speak and never got to touch another human being. He didn't have contact with the outside world: he didn't have a cell phone or access to a computer. Everything in his world revolved around Mistress Elaine and her sadistic whims. Even when Elaine would piss on him, when she would use him as her toilet, she never gave him the pleasure of the honor of touching her most sacred place. She dated other men, real men, but he was never allowed to taste the evidence of it from her freshly fucked pussy or asshole. She had a cold once and she let him come upstairs. She lounged on the sofa under a blanket, reading books and drinking orange juice and she would put a finger aside her nostril and blow her nose onto Bob's blindfolded face as he lay reclining on the floor like a faithful dog. It was heaven.

The dungeon grew. She seemed to always bring home new things, a tens-unit, a posture collar, medical equipment, her arsenal kept expanding. One day, she came down the stairs and unlocked the cage. Bob crawled out and kissed her feet. She instructed him to get on the table and lie face up. She secured his head in a vice and secured his arms and legs tightly with the custom restraints. What happened next was too much for even Bob to process.

Slowly, seductively Elaine undressed in front of him. He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned in this basement. He slept and woke not by the sun but by the sound of her footsteps. He hadn't seen flesh, he hadn't seen a real woman's curves, he hadn't seen a woman's naked body since he had arrived. He was mesmerized and tried his best to fix his eyes on her form in order to soak in every detail of her delightful nude frame. She was perfection to look at, her tits, her ass and her pussy, the same pussy that held him captive that day in the parking lot were like a mirage in the desert to a dying man. His cock, unrestrained, sprang to attention like he was 18 years old.

Elaine climbed on the table and she straddled his body. Bob felt a wave of emotion, a flood of sensations that made him overwhelmed with grief. He was in love with a woman who didn't give a fuck about him, who lived to inflict pain on him. It was, in many ways, the realization of all his fantasies. The warmth of her flesh felt like the source of all life, like he was being cradled in the birthplace of all humanity. She sat firmly on him, her nakedness, the wetness of her pussy was touching him, coating him with her juices. Bob was hyperventilating.

Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Sensually, she lit the dark-colored cigarette and the scent of the smoke was exotic, spicy. She blew smoke rings and French inhaled all while rubbing her pussy on Bob's stomach. She was enjoying herself. The smoke was making Bob light-headed.

She taunted him. "You know, I could do anything to you and no one would know, no one would care. I own you, truly. You know what Bobby? You're more terrified of me releasing you, sending you back to your old life than you are of anything I could do to you physically." She was correct. The thought of her telling him to get out, to go back to his old life was the most terrifying proposition in the world to him.

She took a long drag on her cigarette and he knew what to expect. She'd never used cigarettes to burn him before but after the branding, cigarettes would be child's play, or so he thought. She burned him in his chest, on his arms and he barely flinched. Pain registered as comfort, as pleasure, as release, as safety. She spit in his face and he flinched, not because it hurt but because he felt it was like a reward for doing such a good job, being such a devoted pain pig.

"You know that old saying our parents used to tell us before they gave us a spanking? 'This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you?' Well, this is going to hurt you far more than it hurts me. Far, far more." She held his face in her hands. Her touch was tender, soft, almost loving. Her grip tightened. He is head was already held firmly in place by the vice, he couldn't turn left or right. All he could do was stare up at his Goddess and feel the full weight of her naked body on him.

She took one more puff. She blew the smoke in his eyes and it stung. As the lit end of the cigarette neared his face, he started to panic. His heart started to race and he started to buck and flail as much as he could under the circumstances. He didn't want to show fear. He wanted to prove that he loved anything and everything that his Mistress could do to him.

Elaine took her thumb and pressed his eyelid back and took her cigarette and shoved it in his eye in one swift move. She pushed. She stamped it out on his eyeball. Bob screamed. His body jerked and convulsed. His eyes stung and burned. The funny thing was, as his body heaved, as it involuntarily tried to buck the woman sitting on top of him off, it was masturbating his Mistress. She was using him to get off. She was rubbing her clit on his body and putting out her cigarette in a way that would leave him blind in that eye. In all of his life, Bob had never dreamt of anything so sadistic and he'd never felt a sensation as painful. She slapped him to keep him conscious and his body kept jerking and jolting. She was rode him like a bronco rides a bull. She was cumming. She orgasmed using his pain as an aphrodisiac which made Bob cum, releasing his useless sperm against her beautiful brown backside.

Bob awoke in his cage. His eye socket was bloody, he had scratches on his chest where she tried to hold on. He couldn't see out of his eye and he was in pain. His soul ached. He had never known such pain before but he had also never known so much pleasure.

*****