Nightmare Master Pt. 02

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"Pain was always something I had a dark fascination with." Honey shuddered, tied to the table setup I had in my dungeon. I had to confess, too, that I far preferred my table to Sulfur's, not that there was anything wrong with Ash's choices. They just weren't mine, weren't in my home. My table was harder and uncomfortable, deliberately so.

I had her tied spread eagle on her stomach after breakfast together. Of course, for that, I'd had her on her knees at my dining room table, and I'd used a riding crop for encouragement while she sat at my feet and ate and drank from her dog bowls. And at the end I'd fed her a mouthful of my cum when I'd been so aroused from the thought of having her as mine.

But for the dungeon morning session, I'd chosen a nice, easy torment, as opposed to one that would end in our frantic rape game fucking. "Oh, M-master? How come?" She stuttered when I pierced another play piercing needle through her back.

I hadn't expected to enjoy this session as much as I was. I actually just meant for a morning wake up one and it was working for that, but oh, was it a nice wake up. My God, it'd been ages since I'd had a vacation and this one was turning into the most fucking perfect one I'd ever had. Of course, there was always that crowd of people who would crucify me for what I considered relaxation. I positioned another play piercing needle in Honey's back and pressed it through, enjoying the way her skin shivered around the pierce, the way she reacted to the small sensation. It wasn't entirely random either, as I had an end design in mind. "Mhmm. There's so many different types and then there's the way people react to each one. I've had masochists who turn more quiet under the pain, ones that sink into it and bow all the harder for it. All of them seemed to be opened up with the sensation, made hollow. It gives them a form of peace. And then, of course, there's you..."

She gave me a breathless little sound when I pierced another one through. The play piercing kit didn't have a high enough gauge of needle to be overly terrible, but there were a lot of them in my kits and my design was intricate. It came to a blend of sharp pain in a continuous, over and over fashion. "Which one am I?"

"All of them. None of them. I'm not sure. You're... something special." I thrilled to the romantic vision of being a torturer talking with his little victim. It gave me a rush to consider how she was forced prone and tethered, naked and stretched out for me to play with. "You bow lower even while you get more bold and flirt harder with me, as if the pain makes you forget to be so shy about your kinks. You smile up at me even while your eyes get that emptiness... but it's not emotional masochism for you. It's almost like, for you, the pain and force hollows you out until you're peaceful and happy." I cleaned up where she bled a little, using gauze and carefully avoiding getting the drops on my black talc gloves. I kept the needle hub colors methodically, carefully separated, soothed by that separation, using different colors for different concentric circles so that the design was nice and organized. Pink formed lines at her shoulder blades for instance, while blue was at her lower back. The design wasn't something immediately obvious, but I could see parts of what it would be when I added the final touches.

"You're s-something special, too, Master." She breathed deep and even and I stroked a palm over her ass in rewarding encouragement, soothing over a belt harness that held inflated dildos in her pussy and ass so that she arched. "Other Doms-" She cut off, tilting her head to glance up at me with an abrupt fear that made me smile while I pierced another needle through her, wearing one of the half demon masks.

"Other Doms were jealous types, I take it, in addition to whatever you were about to say."

She smiled shyly. "Well, yes and no. I mean more so in the way that- ouch- in the way that most people don't like hearing about past things." She grinned up at me. "You're scary. I don't want to make you angry."

I chuckled at that, prepping another needle. "Fair enough, but I can promise that my past experiences were such that I'm well aware of the extreme side of things I'm on. For someone like you, I'm fairly secure in the fact that I'm unique enough to have your attention. Be respectful and you'll find me a lenient Master. Believe it or not..." I paused to touch her rabbit nose, winking. "I'm even patient."

She laughed and her eyes were warm, turning glazed when I pierced another needle through her. "Yes, Master. I was going to say... going to say that others would play games where they'd want their sub to stand still on their own instead of being tied down. Because it's harder for the submissive."

I laughed. "And they want little slaves and subs to behave on their own. I think I can guess where this is going."

Honey giggled. "Oh, you can? Ouch."

"Aww, how cute when you say it so pathetically like that." I used gauze to clean her, then carried on. "And yes, I can. I know the games and I know the variations. I'll admit it's enjoyable to see a little sub try so hard to suffer in stillness, only to fail and cry when punishment comes. I prefer a different kind of game, though."

She giggled, then gasped with another needle. "You like it when I struggle and can't get away, when I scrabble at the stocks and I'm forced to take more weight and I'm begging and crying and it's real submission how there's no one coming to save me from you when you're so big and mean and bad."

I laughed at the dreamy look in her eyes, even with what I was doing. "I think that's what you like, little maso slut." But then I winked at her sheepish smile. "But yes, that's part of it. The other part is I prefer a lot of torture and pain and it's better for me to walk a line of caution and tether you so you don't hurt yourself with your mad laughter and excitement. We're about 90% done."

Her back was an intricately colorful design and she moaned in a satisfying way with the knowledge. "Yes, Master. W-will you tell me what it will be like to be your slave?"

I smiled, working, taking a guess at what she probably wanted to hear. "Painful. Awful."

She shuddered and sighed happily. "That's not what I mean. I mean that you said I could maybe sleep with you one day when I think like your slave."

"Ah." I stroked a hand between her legs, smiling with how strongly she smelled like cum, and she gasped when the action pressed the toys inside of her. "Is that the thoughts making you so horny for the moment? Since you're being such a good pain bunny, I'll play along. I feel like you already know what I mean, since you're such good friends with Pet, though. When you get used to the routine of eating at my knees, for instance, and when you understand to blow me when I take you by the collar a certain way, I think you'll know. For right now, you're not used to my routines or what that collar means. Some of those are things I haven't decided on yet." Oh, she definitely enjoyed this conversation, so much that I found it promising for asking her for a relationship at the end of our time together. "I haven't had a playmate before so open and resilient to heavy pain play. I know that I want a routine of it. So, for an instance of my decisions still in the works, I know that I would like days set aside for tit torture fun, something like a day every week or two, depending on how hard I play." I leaned over her to caress her cheek, whispering in her ear. "That way you can anticipate when it happens and dread it all the more."

She whimpered and then giggled breathlessly. "You're so mean."

"I've said it before, but I'll repeat it. God help us both that you like me that way. But there's day to day routines I want you to have as well. Reinforcement, that kind of thing. Most of these have a lot to do with my taking care of you for both our sakes. I'd lose my mind if I couldn't have you under control enough to satisfy that part of me."

She sighed under a needle, eyes fluttering closed. "So dreamy and mean and Master-ish..."

I smiled wryly. "Master-ish. Wow. I was going to say there's other sides to it as well, parts that have to do with you pleasing me, since-"

She squeaked happily. "Like a good little slave!"

"Since you like approval and structure in the way most submissives do," I finished, touching her nose again.

"I do, though! Ouch..." She settled under the pain when the excitement tried to rise in her that time, I noticed. "It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and happy."

"Oh? In the way that seeing a cute little bunny might, for instance?"

She grinned up at me, eyes glazed by then. Continual, over and over pain did her well. "Are you saying I make you feel all warm and fuzzy?"

"No, I'm saying bunnies do in general. Are you claiming to be one of those?"

"Yes. I'm a rape bunny."

I stood up, placing the last needle. "I see. Then you probably don't want things to feel very good." I placed the forceps for the finishing touches and she squealed in fear.

"No! No, what are you doing? Please don't, please!"

"Quiet. Take what you know you deserve." Every time. That dark excitement felt almost choking with the sound of her begging, with the feel of denying it. Forceps meant more pain for her. Because forceps came with piercings of a higher caliber than I'd been giving her with my play piercing kits. For instance, 8 gauge fish hooks. I stabbed one through and she yelped, turning tearful, while I calmed to the sight of her blood pooling up. I gauzed it neatly and did the other side, prepping, then setting, then... piercing...

She whimpered. "Please. Please, are there any more?"

"There will be if you don't hush. Stop being a whiney rabbit and take what you're given."

"Yes, Master, I'm sorry."

I smiled, stroking and soothing her. "Don't be. I like your protesting, but let's clarify a rule for it right now. I won't have a conflicted little slave uncertain of when I want her to struggle me and when I want her to cooperate. Struggle all you like until I say to hush. It turns me on."

She made a low sound that I'd never forget, equal parts fear and gratitude, fiery arousal and submission. "Yes, Master, thank you."

"You're welcome." I worked around the needles I'd set, using the fish hooks as a placement for the ribbons and other decoration I used down her back. It took time to place everything just so, but it was for the best, since I could also use it to settle my little tormented maso with soft petting down her sides. "There we go, Honey. Well. A few last things." I fixed her black bunny ears to her head with pins and then fixed the pigtails she seemed to like most with it before I finally released her straps. Adorably, she stared at her wrists and ankles when they were free as if she didn't know what to do with them for a moment, then blinked up at me. I rolled my eyes, but I felt a sense of pleasure as well in the way she looked to me for guidance, a little lost after extended lengths of pain.

She looked to where I gestured when I stood up and went to the wall, feeling a brief moment of shyness before I tugged the black sheeting off the side. It had been a design work of mine that one wall of my dungeon be a mirror when I felt particularly cruel and wanted a little victim to see every grotesque thing I did. Of course I hadn't quite managed to use it like that, at least not by then since the idea proved too extreme and intense to go along with my admittedly twisted tastes, and I got used to keeping it covered.

I uncovered it for her, though, and had a moment where I found it surreal that she was probably the first playmate I'd met that could play those visual torment games with me... and yet, I finally used the mirror for a more romantic reason. How strange that I should find myself in this position when I had fantasized over that game for so long. When I let the sheet fall, I stood to the side, so that my little rabbit sat up on her knees on the cruel table and stared at her reflection in the muted light of the torture dungeon. She shouted and clapped her hand to her mouth so that I smiled, stroking my talc gloved fingertips over my mouth to hide the expression in the midst of that strange shyness. "I take it that you like it," I finally said softly.

"I have wings!" She squealed it, crying happily. "Feathery, silky, painful wings! I'm an angel bunny! It's so pretty, it's so pretty!"

The long feathers hadn't been so hard to attach to the needle hubs with some wire work, but the black lines of silk had been a little trickier. Those were what the fish hooks had been for in the end, so I could have something to twist lines of wire around and use those to hold the silk ribbons. The end result really was a set of gorgeous wings. Of course, for my tastes, I thought there could be no wings more beautiful than hers that came with so much of my playtime.

There was one last thing. Well, two last things. First, I helped her off the table and carefully settled her on her knees when those shook beneath her. And last, I held out the thornless rose. "Open your mouth." When she obeyed, I placed it and let her hold it there. She knelt quietly at my knees when I settled a chair in front of her and leaned my head back in another sense of repletion, closing my eyes while I basked in the sensation of having my little slave near, petting her hair with the joy of getting to wake up like this. When I chanced a glance or two at the scene, she was still bowed.

And her eyes darted happily to the mirror so that I had to smile and when she nuzzled my knee a few times...

It will sound egotistical, but I felt like a king with his crown lovingly given and a rather cruel tyrant with his power forcibly taken at the same time. They were two impossible dualities that I couldn't philosophically reconcile in my mind, but with her, somehow, someway, she had just the right blend of sanity and crazy daydreams that it blended. And I was grateful.

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Nynaeve

He was so awful and wonderful all at once! There was no one like him, no one. Who did the things that he did? After he sat above me like such a Master, he eventually made a small sound and stood, so that I looked up and watched him. I practically squealed when he opened a cabinet and got a camera out of a case. "Would you like to model for me, lovely?" But he was already smiling after the way I hopped carefully on the floor, working to not harm my needles. "Sit still for Master and here, first, let's do this." I couldn't even figure out why he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, removed his mask, and placed his head next to mine, taking a quick four or five snapshots with us and the mirror behind us, making sure the dungeon was in relief. I swear that it just didn't occur to me. I wondered at it when he stood back, replacing the mask, and the real pictures began because he was far more careful in having me pose for them. He had me spread my pussy with my knees up, my wings flared behind me, as if I was a humiliated, tortured, and defiled angel, something made all the worse with how my pussy was gaped from the toy he'd had inflated inside of me after he finally removed it. And, of course, he had me roll over so he could get close ups of his work, purring over how some of the needles still welled with my blood. He spanked me and had me spread my asscheeks, making me show off my hole, then made me show off his awful marks of tit torture from before.

Of course, somewhere in modeling how evil my Master was for the camera was when I realized why he'd started the reel with pictures that had his face in them. The mere thought of him using something like images for a form of control made me want to howl with laughter, though. After intense enough games of being on that wavelength and realizing how violent he liked his rape just made that kind of coercion seem... ah, highly unlikely from a man who'd rather I never enjoyed it at all.

It was the kind of thing that made me sad when it was over, when he finally put the camera away, when I was degraded and happy about that fact from the pictures, and I begged him to count how many needles I had endured. "Please, Master, please! For my pain puppy pride."

He'd given me a flat stare. "Pain puppy pride?"

"Yeah! My maso count, you know? Like how we brag to ourselves about how much we can take!"

His lips had curved up into an exasperated smile. "Of course." But then he'd paused and softly said, without counting, "128."

128. So many and so carefully placed in their designs across my back. And the fact that he knew. He'd intimately known even when I couldn't keep track, and I was someone who always kept track. I stared up at him, shivering, feeling the spots of wetness on my back where some had bled. "You didn't need nearly that many for the picture, did you?"

He gave me a very amused stare. "I could have done that with about 25, although I don't know that it would have looked anywhere near as lovely. I only stopped because of the time factor when I wish to have my real fun with you later. Although, it has inspired a fun fantasy of piercing you all over, with more needles like these down your legs for instance." He stroked a finger across my tits, eyes caressing some of the whip marks. "I have larger ones to hammer through these gorgeous tits of yours, ones we'll add weights to on their ends so you can feel them painfully pulled down from, say, here." His eyes were almost clinically thoughtful when he touched the sides of my breast.

The thought made me sink to my knees to give him kisses all over his cock again while he lifted an eyebrow curiously. "One time, I read this story about a guy playing edge games with this girl and she got all worried and upset that he might be making her bleed and he laughingly said that he would never make her bleed because he loved her, but would always hurt her and you're so bad and you like making me bleed, too. You're terrible, Master."

I said it all breathlessly and I think he knew by then that phrases like "you're so evil" or "you're awful, Master" really meant "Iadore you, Master". His smile was pleased instead of hurt in any way and it made me happy. "I know, but I just can't help it when I have a flirty rabbit who struggles and begs so nicely." I giggled and he did that thing where he touched my nose and made me feel all cute. "Come on," he finally said, tugging the scruff of my collar so I was lifted. "Up you get, naughty girl. I have to take your wings off and take care of some things before tonight. You need some time to yourself before I start anyway."

His voice was even as always and it made me shudder. "Oh, no." I skipped at his side, laying on the table when he guided me there. "Your threats are so scary and it's even worse that you have all the terrible toys to follow through right here and your dungeon is so stark and evil..." He had shelves of toys and some of them were sexual, like the inflating ones that he loved to stuff me with, but they were always either a thick, black color or stainless steel metal that glistened in harsh appearance. They looked all the more frightening when set next to his hooks and knives and eye screws and heavy clamps on another shelf. And then there were the weights - shudder - and they were so big. He had a shelf of heavy padlocks too and his furniture wasn't any better. His table was cold steel and he mostly seemed to prefer things along the lines of wooden slats and stocks. His suspension hook was deliberately something out of a horror movie and it still didn't get any better if you looked down either because he had - gulp - one of the industrial drains like Sulfur's had in the back shower room, where you went if you were feeling really hardcore for a night.

And then there was that mirror wall and I could take a guess what it's intended purpose was for, could guess how it'd amuse him for someone to see what was happening to them in stark relief, when he'd put so much effort into making his toys grotesque and horrific. He'd said the pain was what most people started to have problems with after a time and it wasn't hard to see why.