Sadist's Fire Pt. 01: Begging

And it wasn't just Trish either. At work, I would talk and it was just... different. My voice was different every now and again. When I was lost in thought on a problem in the project we were working on, I would speak and it would come out clear. Always before I had stuttered in fear around my coworkers, even though they were nerds like me. But now I had seen darkness, suffered it... and was going back to serve as its whore. Now I had a terror that overloaded my fear response and it was almost like there was nothing left for anything else. He was truly the worst demon in my night and he held me captive with chains he hadn't even meant to wrap me in.

Saturday was a longer time away than the previous wait and it was long enough for the terror to sink nice and secure, its claws deep in my heart so that I tossed and turned the night before. What was more terrible was how clearly and disdainfully he gave his commands and then left it up to me to obey. What would happen if I just ran and didn't show?

I knew the answer. Nothing. That would be it. He gave me the absolute impression that he wouldn't miss me, wouldn't so much as look at me if I dared approach him again. It was the ultimate punishment, the worst that could happen. No more of that horrible fear his mere presence instilled in me. No more of his uncaring eyes on the rare occasions he graced me with them. No more of his abuse and snarling disgust when I didn't obey to his exacting standards.

No more of the shaking relief that was the small victory when he didn't criticize.

I couldn't stay away. I stood outside of Sulfur's in resignation to whatever awful fate waited for me at his hands. I hoped so bad that my dark idol might give me just one gentle touch that night, and knew that it wasn't likely. My heart thundered at the memory of how he'd looked with his whips, like a dark god of pain and penance, a demon of punishment. My pussy pulsed, which was even worse. He had used me and left me without a care or thought for anything I felt, used me as a personal sex doll, and I was so fucking horny from it that I was filthy with cum before I even made it to him.

I walked inside before I could get any worse, knowing it would already be humiliating when he would smell or feel how greedy he made me. Beyond that, I didn't dare be late. I went by Brian with a wave and again, I found Ezra Calloway instantly from anyone else. Also again, he wasn't paying attention at all to if I would show up, wasn't waiting or playing as if he cared in the slightest. I had to make myself walk to him on my own, knowing what waited for me. His male sub was sitting in a chair beside him, the same one from before. At the moment, the sub looked so casual and it was something that made me pause for a second. I didn't understand how he could sit by Calloway's side in such a relaxed way. I would have been cowering in his place, cringing eagerly by the side of such a cruel master. I would have been reverent and in awe of the fact that I could experience his whips, fearfully nipping his fingertips with small pleas of mercy on my tongue.

I lowered my gaze and finished walking to Calloway's side, reminded that I didn't get to experience the intimate dance with his whips. I was jealous of his sub, viciously so, and the defeated subjugation from before came back to me. I didn't have enough courage to talk, only managed a swift glance up to my master - and then realized that I thought of him in that term - to see him looking down at me with that sadistically mild curiosity. "Strip." I obeyed but his voice almost made me pause. There was something in it that time, an emotion that I couldn't identify, and it was an intense emotion at that. I kept my eyes down in reverential respect as I sat my clothes to the side and stood naked before him. He had to grasp my chin again to make me meet his gaze and I did so, in obedience to the command he didn't speak. "I was nice last time and left you alone until I had use for you. It occurred to me how boring that must be, though, so this time while I have my scene, you'll have your own. You're going to be over that spanking bench and whoever wants to use you in whichever hole they want is going to until I'm done and ready for my little toy. Understood?"

The only reason I didn't hyperventilate at the thought was because of that desolate emptiness he had given me from before. Still, a little bit of horror made it to my face before the submission ruled everything. He reacted to it, too, his dark eyes sparking with that cold excitement from before. "Yes, sir," I finally answered.

He released me. "Last time I dressed you like my whore. This time, I think it'll be clear enough without the outfit. Go to the bench and bend over it for me to chain you."

I had one single thought of free lucidity where I wondered if I was insane, then it was gone when I placed my ankles at the legs of the bench where he would chain them and then bent slowly forward and held my wrists down to the other cuffs, waiting for my master's leisure. There was something delicious in it, a thought that I was holding my wrists down for the bondage that would hold me in my own private hell.

And then he was by my side and the darkness seemed all the more total with the sense of awe I felt, the inspired terror at his presence, the idolatry that wanted to serve him. He cuffed my ankles first and when he came around to my front, I dared to brush my lips to his forearm while he reached down to cuff my wrists. He paused for a heart stopping moment and I wondered if retaliation was coming, wondered if he would punish me for something so bold.

He didn't. He allowed it, going onto the next wrist, and I felt a dangerous rush of gratitude and a desire to thank him. I held my head up for the eye mask, which he fixed securely. "Open your mouth, correctly this time." And I did, so that he fitted me with a gag that had an open circle to keep my mouth a wide and clear hole.

It was the most he had spoken to me and I floated in masochism again, realizing something. He had told me so much to give me the chance to leave, to say that I didn't want it anymore. And I hadn't taken it. I was splayed open, his toy that he was letting others play with as they wished.

A hand grasped me by my hair and the first cock was pressed into my open gag before I even heard his flogger start. And this time I had little to no ability to submissively serve, couldn't even close my lips around the cock forcing down my throat. I was made to take it and it was terrible, amazing, wonderful.

I had to focus on the fact that at the end my master would use me, had to remember that I was his toy and this was how I was being played with for the moment. The cock down my throat choked me and saliva messed down my chin and it had to be dripping disgustingly onto the floor. My pussy pulsed to the thought, humiliation sending shockwaves of stunning desire through my body. I shook in my chains, quivering all over. There was a soft groan above me as whoever was fucking my mouth finished in his condom and for a long moment I was left cold, untouched, alone.

And then another cock pressed to my pussy and I grasped my chains, mouth still held wide, spit still dripping. And with the cock that filled me, I cried out in shock, eyes going wide behind the mask.

I was filthy wet, so sopping drenched that tears sprang to my eyes with the indignity of it. The sound that it made was the sound of a slut who deserved this abuse. I sank even farther down into that horrible abyss where my dark master ruled all, so far that I couldn't imagine the light anymore. I came around the cock using me and no one stopped me. No one touched my pussy to help my pleasure or hinder it.

Because you're a worthless little toy and it doesn't matter. I sobbed to the thought, but also came again in a frenzy.

The stranger finished behind me and left and I was cold again for a few moments. I waited for the next cock to press into my asshole, dreading the moment, but it didn't. The next one was for my mouth again, choking me. Part of me had hoped in eager dread that my ass would be used and that part was disappointed, but the other part was incredibly relieved. I took two more in my mouth instead, getting used to the flavors of condoms, and in the background I heard the sounds of his submissive suffering one of his toys and I knew it wasn't the whips or the cane again, but couldn't focus enough this time to distinguish what it was. I was lost in my own wicked hell, horny and riled and tortured on a rack of the worst pleasure.

Those last two who used me seemed to take forever. The first one slowed down his pacing, then sped up, then slowed again, deliberately making sure he lasted a long time. And the last one lazily used me, while my pussy felt so empty, and he too obviously made it last. My lips felt swollen and my throat felt hoarse and sore long before even the first one finished with me. I took it, thinking of my dark god and the sounds I heard, hating this, loving it, adoring him, dreading him, lost to him. It was strangely transformative.

Whatever implement I heard stopped sometime during the last person's using me and I barely registered it. I waited in fear, knowing he would be worse than ever. Somehow I knew that it would be terrible, but I had no idea how terrible.

I waited when the fourth person left, trembling again, and a soft whimper of terror escaped me. My master undid the open mouthed gag first, his hands rough at the sides of my face, and I recognized his touch from any other. Excitement laced through me, black waves of adrenaline. Which hole would he use? What would he do? How would I suffer this time? His hands at the gag made me shake. There was something in his touch that made me tense.

To my surprise, he stroked his cock against my pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me, so much that I squeezed on him in eagerness, moaning in ecstasy to feel my master finally use me after being used by others. He thrust inside of me so easily after another had already opened me up and I was wildly drenched still, even more so than when the stranger had fucked me. My master's pace was different than his cruel prerogative the last times, though. It was strange, almost lazy and hesitant. His cock filled me in long strokes that made me all the more afraid.

And then he brought the axe down. He pulled away with a low noise of disdain that made me choke on a sob, and then he tugged the blindfold off. He undid my ankles first before he came to my side and let my wrists up, staring down at me with a sneer on his face that made me stare up at him in wounded terror. "I thought I wanted to use you after you'd been a whore for the night, but now you're just fucking filthy. I'm not interested, so go and come back ‪Tuesday at 7‬ instead."

He turned, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the pure evil smile that curved his lips, a smile of pure pleasure at seeing my misery. And it was that smile that made me react the way I did.

Because I gave a shocked cry that was despair... but also part of the orgasm that overtook everything in me. It was all-encompassing, a nightmare that made me lift on my knees to him, shaking. And he turned back to me at the sound of my sexed up cry, so fast that I gasped, and then his hand was in my hair and I lifted up to him when he grasped my face in that wicked grip of his. His eyes made me squeal, made another shockwave of devastating pleasure rock through my body. They were filled with that cold excitement and it was terrifying how hot he looked with that sadism flaming in his eyes.

It was like seeing the face of an angel in its wrath and fury. I lifted closer to his face while he drank in the sight of the lancing pain he had so viciously caused me, while he took obvious pleasure in it. His gaze was even more sexually arousal than they were from whatever pleasure he took in his whips, a moment of harshest intimacy where my insight into him was something profound.

He waited until I was finished with the waves of pleasure, holding me in his grip while he watched every last paroxysm cross my eyes, still excited in the way a wolf became excited when its prey ran. But his fire faded into his control as my pleasure finished until he was just sneering coldly at me again. I stared up at him, silently pleading him for a shred of mercy.

He spat instead and it hit my cheek. And I felt as if the chains from before were now a permanent part of my being. It was like he welded them with that action. He stroked his forefinger across my used, swollen lips. "Tuesday. 7. Do you understand?"

There was something intense between us, something that made me nod frantically. Before, I had been certain that there would be no repercussions if I didn't show, that it would just be the end of whatever was between us. But something in his icy eyes made me think that wasn't the case anymore. It made me think I had better damn well be there again. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Dress and get out." And then he finally let me go. I shook even worse than usual when dressing, tears falling down my cheeks. I was supposed to be his whore and he hadn't even gotten relief or taken satisfying use of me.

How was I ever going to make it to Tuesday with that knowledge? I finally finished with my clothes and turned, so horny even though the orgasm that had rocked me had been the strongest one I thought I'd ever had. I was so desperate to give him pleasure, but also well aware of the fact that I had given him a very dark, different pleasure. Before I left, he softly, sadistically said one last thing that made me whimper. "Filthy fuck." A shiver shook my body before I finally hurried away from him in a new state of terror, with more fear than ever.

Because there had been affection in those words.

————

Ezra

The night I tied her down was the night that made me realize a basic truth. Ready for it? It's pretty easy.

Fuck the control I had been trying to cling to. This little suicidal fucking bunny was chasing down the wolf that was dying to eat it. And when I fed on her pain in the worst way I could think of, without starting actual pain play, and she screamed with that orgasm so loud and hard that the audience from my scene stared at her too? When she didn't even fucking realize that she was being watched because she was so caught up in me?

Nope. Done. Fuck the control. I wouldn't hurt her much, but I would keep having her in my selfish way, which made me an asshole, but I didn't care. To hell with trying to warn her off me. What's a wolf to do when the rabbit so clearly wants to be devoured?

Fuck the ever loving shit out of it, apparently.

————

Devi

I stayed away from everything and everyone for those three days. It was a mercy on his part to make it such a short wait time because I was too afraid of what I would seem like to others with the emotions he'd left me with. I didn't know what it would transcribe to in things like my tone and words, so I kept to myself at work and didn't even visit Morgan and Trish. They messaged me in our group chat to make sure I was okay and I made sure my texting was light and happy with emojis.

But I was waiting for Tuesday. I didn't know what the ending of the last session meant for me, for him. I only knew that it meant something and that things had changed. It was a terrible stasis where I felt... marked in some way. And I didn't know what I was marked for. Damocles had had a sword over his head because he'd been in a position of power. What was being held over my head, when I was in a position of service?

Tuesday. 7. What would have happened if I hadn't shown that time? I was far too much of a coward to find out. I also didn't want to find out. He had spit on my face, had called me a filthy fuck, had used me in his carelessly cruel ways, and I needed to see him again. Ezra. The name of my demon. The name of a godlike man.

He was sitting to the side when I went in, away from the play area, and it took me a moment to find him because I was so used to him being ready to play, but he was still unmistakable. What was more, he was alone. I went to his side like I usually did and he stood. "Clothes off. Give them to me."

"Yes, sir." The words were automatic and quiet and defeated, absolutely defeated. I obeyed, folding my clothes as best I could while I took them off, and handed them to him. Again, he dressed me in black lingerie and this time he fixed me with a peekaboo bra and another lacy thong that tied at my waist. After a moment, I realized I even matched him. He wore soft designer jeans and a tight short sleeved shirt that accentuated his muscle build. There was a silver star at his collar, one that matched the silver star on my bra's tie string, thin as it was. The sheer black fit perfectly with the black he wore. He took my shoes too, and left me barefoot while he looked down at my bright pink painted toes. But he didn't say anything about it. He grabbed a collar from the bag where he placed my clothes instead and fitted it tightly to my throat, a gleaming black band that was rich and glittered with a silver underlay. I wondered if it was one of the collars his male sub wore for the whips as he fitted my wrists with matching black metal cuffs. He chained those together while I started to turn wet with hot arousal.

He connected another chain to the one between my wrists and fed it up to my collar so that I couldn't lower my hands below my waist. And then he tilted his head with a satisfied, somewhat sadistic glance, his lips curving upwards. I shivered and took a step forward, closer to my master when he seemed to find me pleasing. And he clipped a leash to my collar to finish. "Come with me." His voice was soft in a way that made me blink.

"B-but your friend, s-sir."

He tugged the leash while walking to the stairway, taking his water and his bag with him. "Not here."

My eyes went wide. If his friend wasn't there, then was he planning to play with another? He had commanded me to him early for the night. But I wasn't sure about anything when he held my leash and led me up to the balcony where people sat to watch. There wasn't any furniture there to play and I quivered in uncertainty.

He settled a chair out to sit in but before he did, he pointed to the floor in front of it. "Kneel, by this side where I'm pointing." I obeyed, exactly where he wanted me, and stared up at him, adoring him, curious why I was being permitted to bow like this. What was more, he didn't say anything against my gazing at him and it didn't feel too forward.

Especially when he relaxed in the chair and gazed over the balcony at the scenes... and stroked my hair. I shivered and crawled closer to my master, my terrifying idol, so close that I was touching his leg. And when he still stroked my hair, I lay my head on his knee. For a long while, he didn't speak again. He just pet me and I almost cried with how stunningly happy it made me to be allowed this moment. Had I earned in some way? Was this his pleasure? I didn't know, but I took full advantage of his gift and pressed my lips to his jeans, dangerously infatuated and addicted to this.

"Breathe," he finally spoke, his voice soft... and gentle. The contrast to the pure ice I had grown accustomed to made me feel stunned. Even his touch was gentle for the moment and butterflies tumbled through my stomach.

"Yes, Master." The word slipped out and his hand paused on my head, but then he tucked my hair behind my ear and stroked it back. I sighed to the touch and parted my lips against his thigh. His fingers felt like pleasure against my temple and, what was more, my pussy was drenched and ready to be used. I ignored that for the time being and it was so incredibly easy to do when I was given this moment at his knees.

"Look at me." I lifted my gaze instantly, meeting his eyes when he rattled my chain leash. I shifted my cuffed wrists and lifted and the actions were stunningly graceful. I had never considered myself a very graceful person and yet in his hands I had been so much the plaything that the grace came second nature in my need to be pleasing while serving him. "Drink." I blinked when he lifted the water to my lips, then sipped, lifting my hands out of habit without doing a thing with them. I didn't dare even touch the water that he held for me. He tilted it up for me to take greater swallows, nodding to command me to continue drinking. When he was satisfied, he sat the water on the table but still held my face. "If you're going to be a thrill seeker, drink more water and cut soda out. Your mouth is always dry. You have blood on your lip from chewing it. Stop doing it."