Nightmare Master Pt. 01

His eyes made me absolutely sure I had finally met a bigger demon. He raised his hand and beckoned, lips curving under the mask that ended above his mouth.

I couldn't stop the response, even if I knew better. I knew better than to resist, to pull away, to show the fear. That was the worst you could do when it enticed big, bad wolves to turn meaner. You were supposed to curl up, trembling, on your knees like a good victim, supposed to bow your head and wait for the wolf to slake his thirsts on your body in whatever dark way he wished. I didn't do that. Where someone like Ivory or Ash did make me be smart and go still, this man was the first one I'd met who pulled the other reaction from me. I backed away from him, so afraid, and shook my head.

His eyes flashed in the mask and the expression of excitement in them made me choke on more fear. He took a step forward so that I gasped and pranced backwards again, but he only grinned evilly and tugged out a chair at one of the tables he drew near. I forced myself to stay still and watch while he undid his suit jacket and settled it around the chair. His eyes still held mine, still eager with a darkness that terrified me, but then he lowered them to his sleeve to roll up the shirt there. While I watched, he fixed the fabric to hold up his forearm for me to see the tattoo there.

Roses framing a wolf. He beckoned one more time.

And if you aren't supposed to show fear like I did, you definitely aren't supposed to run like I did then.

Bad Evey. You are actually trying to get away, aren't you?

For the first time, I thought that maybe I was, actually.

Even so, part of me wondered. I ran to the back dungeon rooms, the ones you were supposed to log in to use. They usually required a key to work and I went through the back hallways in a terrified rush, thinking of what I knew of the rooms back here. It was a Friday so they'd be monitored with a DM acting as Ash's guard wolf. I was still getting to know the DMs actually, which seemed weird to other friends I told about Sulfur's, as if they thought I should know everything there. I mostly stayed around Pet and my friends, though.

With friends like these, who needed enemies? I passed doors, thinking, wondering what I was even planning, if I was even planning anything. The real answer was that I wasn't, that I didn't have any real concrete ideas in mind, but my thoughts were going a mile a minute and then I had the thought that this was what the real kind of terror felt like and I had always wondered what it would be like to have it as close to real as possible.

Back storage room. The thought interrupted the rest, finally breaking through. I ran to it, thinking that Ash had been back here earlier in the day for some of the changeouts. He had a tendency to want to switch his decorations every now and again and if I was lucky... I felt relief when it was open and shut it behind me, hoping Ash wouldn't get angry at me later. It wasn't exactly a safe place to be, especially if you left the light off like I did and had to feel your way through the room. I went to the back corner where I knew there was a padded bed with a cage underneath, much like a smaller version of Ash's monstrosity, and crawled underneath it, curling up in the back of it. It made me laugh at myself, in a moment of hysterical fear, that I would do a stereotypically maso thing and find the most comfort and safety in the claustrophobic back of a cage. And, oh no, why had I chosen to leave the light off like an idiot? It'd seemed like such a smart idea at the time, too, to keep myself hidden, but now the dark just seemed oppressive. It hid him as well as me and my eyes weren't adjusting fast enough. I tried to watch to where I knew the door was, but my view was blocked. Was it just me or did everything seem like a black shadow with a demon mask if you stared at it long enough? Jesus, I couldn't think. My heart was hammering too loud in my ears for me to hear and I had to work to keep my breathing quiet, when all I wanted was to sniffle pathetically. It felt laughable to be worried about something as light as my breathing when I had the sound of my heart to worry about instead, when it was just... so... fucking... loud...

I crawled to the side of the cage, to the door, trying to get another view, carefully making sure my leather arm restraints didn't brush the side of the bars with all the buckles on the sides of them. And I'd played a lot of games at Sulfur's, a lot of them, and a lot of them had been twisted, that was true. But this man was different. All I'd had to do was look into his eyes.

If he caught me, something bad was going to happen. Something really bad. Sparks of sadism had been like glittering gems in his eyes when he'd seen that collar charm. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it meant something to him, enough that he had it in ink and it was something that Ash knew about too. I knew that something scared me even more than Ivory Lavrov had. It didn't help that I had the kind of dark fantasies most people only saw in their nightmares either, because it meant I had a lot of creativity to imagine the worst possible outcome. I had evil thoughts of being a kind of slave gift to an old friend. Ash's words only heightened the sense of terror. "Games can be left."

It was the kind of fear fueled head trip that made me wonder if the collar around my throat was going to be coming off at the end of the night. I crawled partially out of the side door of the cage, hiding behind a sharp edged wooden sawhorse - shudder - like a frightened puppy.

The hand in my hair made me shriek from the heightened state of fear I had alone. I remembered hating how I always went still in surrender whenever Doms hurt me and then realized that there was an option that was worse, that I should have appreciated that side of me a little more. Because when he grabbed me, I couldn't keep from doing the opposite. I threw my weight against his hold, yelping when the action caused pain in my hair, and he laughed above me, an evil sound of cruel amusement that made me all the more terrified for whatever was coming. I realized that, for the first time in all my dark games, I was actually shaking from the fear alone. Even if pain hadn't been given to me yet, for the first time, I was in the zone of those nightmares I got off on so hard.

I was terrified. I thrashed in his grip, but it was beyond pathetic. The fear only translated to useless flailing and he was a controlled force behind me, easily shoving me to my hands and knees. What was more was how big he was. He was over two of me, easily, and it was the kind of size that came with an obvious form of power. When his arm brushed around me, the musculature there was taut with excited violence and I shouted again, wondering if anyone could even hear me back here with all the soundproof work that Sulfur's had.

He didn't move to stop my struggling either, as if it amused him. Instead, he stroked his hand up one of my tits, over the fabric, using his fingers to pinch the already hard nipple there. And that was when the tears started to flow. I moaned and whimpered beneath him, genuinely shocked at the feel of wetness on my cheeks, wondering at its nature. His voice was just as cruel as his touch when he spoke, shushing me in condescension first. "Just let it happen, there's a good little rape bunny."

"Please... please, I don't even know you."

He licked up my cheek, tasting the thick, hot drops there, and his breath shook with dark energy when he did, so much so that it made me cry all the harder. Because it made it pretty damn clear that any begging or struggle I gave him wouldn't stop him. He liked it. "Then let's introduce ourselves. I'm Master." I moaned in fear when he pressed my ass back to the front of his suit pants, forcing me to feel the hard length there. Shudders of pure dread ran down my spine in lightning quick tendrils, but even that wouldn't have been so bad.

No, what was bad was what he did next. He shoved me forward and I knew it was coming, I knew there was nothing I could do about it, nothing that would make this stop. But it still didn't help brace me for the way he lifted me, kneeling, and even if I couldn't see his actions, they were terrifying. He was in absolute control, so much so that even the sadistic excitement was under his command, and I was a panicked little toy. I was beyond easy for him to bring under his will, beyond easy for him to manipulate even if I did still pathetically try to pull away from his touch.

"And if I'm Master, then you're Honey." He made it all too humiliatingly clear why that was me when he easily shifted a hand under my skirt and his touch was with a swift, purposeful grace that didn't so much as give me a second of thought. If I had been pathetic before, I burst into helpless, choked tears then.

I tried to explain it to my vanilla friends sometimes, how my pussy would turn drenched off of fear, even if I wasn't thinking about sex at all. It could have been fear from anything, too, could have been the terror of getting stitches and knowing the pain that would happen in something as boring as a doctor's office. They thought I was crazy, but it was just a reaction that happened, one I didn't have a damn bit of control over.

His fingers glided over my slit, parting the lips there so easily that I went still in misery, and then bowed my head in broken humiliation when he thrust those fingers inside of me, his breath ragged in intense, dark pleasure at my ear. "Slave names are earned after all," he purred behind me, "and you most definitely earned yours."

"Please don't hurt me," I whimpered. "Please."

"Please don't hurt me," he mimicked it with such cold heartlessness that I moaned. "Shut up. A little fear slut like you needs the pain as a reminder anyway. Come here."

He pulled away and I felt a little in a state of shock for a moment, a sense of numbness, when he withdrew from my pussy and cleaned his fingertips quickly in my hair. But then he grabbed my cuffs and I came to enough to yelp, realizing that I didn't want him to use those restraints on the buckles. That was bad. I jerked away from him and this time I managed to find enough in me to shove out at him, turning around in the dark to do it, so that he gasped when I struck him... and then laughed eagerly. "You little maso bitch, come here then. I like it rough, too."

It was just another form of humiliation, trying to fight him. He shoved me back against the sawhorse, and if I had any sanity left I would have realized how careful he was being. All I knew then was how fast he moved, though, how forceful he was when he straddled me, and how his cock was even harder from my fighting him. He used his knees to press into my torso painfully, enough that it left me winded, and then he got hold of the first wrist. And after that, the second wrist was easy for him. I wasn't sure how long I even managed to struggle against him, but I did know that I didn't give him any kind of a challenge and I did know that the fear and desperation seemed to make the moment last for a fucking eternity.

"You fucking flirt." I choked and shuddered when he used one of the buckle connections on a cuff to hook to the back of my collar, painfully wrenching my hand back behind my neck in the process. The other cuff he cleverly locked to the first cuff, ensuring I couldn't get my hands to the makeshift hooks he used and wouldn't get myself free. "Bad little Honey." He shoved me forward, back on my knees, and I fell off balance, pitching too far forward so that he grabbed my hair in a hard hold to keep me from hurting myself. He used his feet to kick my knees apart, so that I was forced with my ass up, even while I was still struggling my cuffs, trying to find any way at all to get myself free, only to find myself more helpless than before.

"Please!" I finally resorted to the begging when it sank in that I wasn't getting free. "Please, don't, please!" But I only broke into crying again when I heard the sound of his belt buckle, then of it being pulled from the loops.

I started shaking, actually shaking, with the thought of what he might do to me, what kind of pain he'd give because I could take a lot, yeah, but it was the unknown factor of being with a stranger and in no man's land. He shushed me again and this time, he stroked one of his shoes up my back so that it was a cruel form of being pet. It made me both calmer... and horrified that I took that kind of comfort in such a degrading form of touch. "Breathe like a good bunny. It's easier for little playthings to know they need their pain and you do know you need it, don't you, Honey? Say it out loud to comfort yourself. I'll even be a kind Master and give you the words. Say, 'I'm a slutty maso who deserves to be punished'."

I sniffled and, horrifically, felt my mouth open, heard the words even if I didn't remember deciding to say them. I don't think I did decide, to be honest. But no one - and I mean no one I had ever played with, ever, not even Ash - had made me feel like he did. No one had made me feel so endangered and helpless and frantic. No one had made me feel this dark and degraded. "I'm a slutty maso who deserves to be punished," I whispered.

And it felt true. His words proved prophetic too, because it did help to say it, to bow to everything that he was going to do, a fact that made me cry all the harder in hopelessness. It helped a little to understand that I had almost fucking orgasmed off of his rough fingers thrusting inside of me just once and that I was a bad, fucking flirt who deserved his belt and his rape. And it was awful how much it helped.

I moaned when the first strike happened, sinking into the pain like it was a lifeline, but I couldn't keep from begging either, because it felt like a relief to do it. "Please don't. Please stop." But the pleas were softly done into the floor and I didn't dare cringe away, didn't dare move from where he'd placed me in the same way I hadn't dared to touch Ivory's hand. The next belt stripe was lower on my thighs where it would hurt a little more. The next was dead center of my ass cheeks...

The worst thing about it, about him and his belt, was how every stripe was masterfully placed, evenly timed, and not a single one of them was any harder or lighter than another. It wasn't the pain that broke me in the end. It was that fact, the feeling of being under the total control and power of someone who was absolutely untouchable in that power. He seemed to see just fine when I was a frightened rabbit in a dark room and couldn't focus enough on him. When he couldn't see how the marks looked to know how hard he was belting me, he paused periodically instead and stroked his palm down my ass and thighs, feeling the heat of the stripes, and it seemed to work just as well as a gauge for him as seeing it would have.

"Please, stop. Please, sir. Master..." I said that last word as a breathless choke of surrender, crying around it, trembling. Because it felt true and that made me feel broken.

I don't know how long it lasted. All I knew was it was never more than I could bear, didn't even come close to the harder pain play games I had been part of, but it was somehow worse than all of those. Because of that last word and how it gave him more power for me to call him that and mean it. In my mind, I deserved every stripe from him. There was no one like the demon that had cuffed me, absolutely no one. He was force and power and I was a lost little rabbit, dripping honey for him to name me after like a foul little slut. He was the big bad wolf and I was just food to eat.

He was an all encompassing Master and I was just a maso slut so filthy that the demon could have his way. He didn't even bother to command. He just took and had so much control that it made it crystal clear I wouldn't orgasm if he didn't want me to, and if he did want to make me cum, he was going to do that, too, no matter how hard I protested and struggled against it.

I was pretty sure I'd never be the same when he dropped the belt by my head, and I had quit thinking about how long this game was going to last by then, too. By that point, I just waited, hoping that eventually the collar around my throat with his awful tattoo on the charm might be unlocked one day, because by that point I was trapped in the thought that it wasn't coming off. Ash's words from before made me feel like I had finally done it, had finally made one bad decision too many and this was the cumulative punishment. It did make me shift when I heard him undo his suit pants, the faint rattle of his zipper. He knelt behind me, repeating that one terribly sadistic phrase. "Just let it happen."

Just let it happen. Because there was nothing I could do about it. I swallowed when he lifted me by the cuffs chained to my collar, shifting uncomfortably with the position, feeling a useless rise of panic at the thought that I'd just fall if he let me go and there wasn't anything I could do about that either.

He positioned his cock against my slit and I shivered, then gasped at the sensation of the hard, huge head of him stroking against the inside of me. I couldn't stop another shudder when it sank in that he was... Jesus, he was big, but that wasn't what actually got to me. It was how fucking hard he was off of my crying and begging. He stroked down the back of my thigh with his free hand and then groaned when he pressed inside of me, a groan that turned into a hiss of ecstasy when I couldn't stop one last struggle from how his size hurt me.

It caused him to laugh darkly above me and then I yelped in shock when he thrust in response to that struggling, an abrupt impalement that hurt in the best kind of raw way, the pain enough to send me close to orgasm. "God, look at you, you little maso flirting fucktoy. Come here." I opened and closed my palms in fists just to feel like I was doing something, anything, but he manipulated me just as easily as he had with every other motion, pulling me back against him and then lifting himself in swift, harsh motions to fuck me open. I moaned in fear when he turned my face, when he licked at my tears eagerly, in predatory excitement. He gave me a few more strokes before he paused to nuzzle me while I pant in soft, frantic breaths of desperate surrender, and his moan was eager, pleased, so much so that it gave me a leaping sensation of having behaved like a good, well used little toy. "The taste is almost as good as blood, Honey."

"Please, can I have a different name?" That one made me feel a sense of deep humiliation and broken submission.

He laughed because he knew and I hated him for that. "Why, when that one just fits you so well?" He reiterated it with his fingers on my clit and I yelped, harsh pleasure forced through me at a touch that slid through so much cum it made me ache.

"No! Please!"

My begging cries ran together while he laughed behind me with how I couldn't stop myself from bucking against his fingers. And God help me, but I tried. So hard, I tried to not do it, but as controlled and perfect as he'd been giving me pain, he was just as controlled and perfect with this. His fingers worked in quick, even, masterful strokes over my clit. He had a rhythmic motion, too, where he pet me in circles and then pinched in a hard, rough touch so that I was built up and then forced to wait for more, built higher and then forced. That small pinch of pain only made me more sensitive to the next round, so that I started to thrash, and even then I tried to get away from him, though it was a pathetic effort. I tried to pull away from where his cock held me captive and he gasped, then growled eagerly. "You really are a flirty little fear slut, aren't you, baby? You're making my dick hard every time you fight me, like a fucked up little rape bunny."