Sadist's Fire Pt. 02: Training

I lowered my fingers to her lips and turned on my surround sound with my phone, choosing a song. Danse Macabre, to be more precise.

Toy's sucking at my fingertips paused and she lifted on her knees with a long lick that made me smile, my eyes closed and my other hand behind my head. "It is kind of a sexy song, isn't it?"

She grinned around my fingertip and sucked harder, pausing to kiss my palm fervently so that I laughed. "Ridiculous fucking slave. I'm not sure it counts coming from you. You make everything sexual."

Her breath quivered with the softest moan, her lips still curved in a happy smile and I fell deeper into contented relaxation. "Mmm. And I'm not entirely sure this even counts as silence." Her lips curved sheepishly and she gave me a fluttering lick of mischief that made me grin and move my hand to flick her nose, so that her breath shook with her laughter. "You're not sorry at all."

I laughed in return when she bit my fingertips with the softest growl, playfulness in return to my scolding. And it sank in what I was doing, how completely at ease I was. It sank in that I felt comfortable enough to let her into my heart and happiness. No speaking, I had commanded her.

She spoke with me anyway, with her lips on my fingers and her hands stroking my wrist in adoration. Naughty slave, for so skirting my command. Sweet slave, for making me feel like this. We spoke well into the night and it was hours before I finally settled her onto my lap and allowed her the out loud conversation she had earned. But before she asked her questions, she giggled into my neck, shivering when I pat a few of her sore marks. "It's like praying to a god."

"What?"

She burst into a fit of giggling then. "I get down on my knees and silently talk to you and tell you how much I love you and the things I like."

I wrestled her into my arms, grappling in the narrow space while she shrieked in playful joy. "Jesus. Filthy fuck." But her laughs only turned louder with her pleasure and she nuzzled me even while she playfully struggled against me.

————

Devi

My master took me down the most deliciously hellish forays. His pain training only got more and more intense and each time was like another gear crank on the torturer's rack, spreading me out and stretching my body until the agony ruled my world. And it did rule my world. I started to obsess over it.

There was a moment during his playtimes where everything turned hopeless and for the briefest second, I felt like I could see into eternity. The pain ruled everything until a second was an age. Time ceased to mean a damn thing. I quit caring where we were or who could see or hear me and only cried out the chant he'd given. "I'm a good pain slut!" Sometimes I would hear his delighted chuckle of approval and I would feel the most intense connection with him. He was the only other existing creature in that world with me, the only thing that mattered and he was the dark god who gave me the experience.

Sometimes he would take me to a dungeon at Sulfur's. Most of the time he would take me to his home dungeon. A few times he messaged me to come to his office and bow in bondage at his knees, so he could feel my abject enslavement and loyalty while he worked. He would always restrain me in a reverse prayer position and chain me to his desk with my tits thrust out so he could twist my nipples to hear my gagged cries. He was casually cruel about those moments, cinching the sensitive peaks so that I wailed into my harsh gag, making me sob for his own comfort and amusement. It made me so horny too, the way he hurt my nipples like they were his toys, in the way that I was his Toy now. I lost myself to the darkness of these moments, to being a blind plaything for such an evil master.

Hard training. Harder play. Hardest core. I was swept in the whirlwind of pleasure and hedonism, in the cyclone of his hell and I reveled in that. But of course, I had friends and a life outside of him and someone was bound to notice.

Especially when we sometimes played in a public place. He loved to abuse my throat when he had a long day and he most often chose Sulfur's upper floors to do that, forcing me between his knees and making me suck his cock nice and slow for a leisurely blow job. I loved these moments, especially after so much hard pain training. He took to restraining me in my strict reverse prayer and I shuffled towards him on my knees one night because I knew what was expected of me. For weeks I had been servicing my harsh master and my body had been pushed beyond its limits so much that I was becoming a true little twisted pain whore. I sucked his cock when he guided me to it, thinking of our previous session when he had strapped my ass fifty times after a dozen cane tracks. It had felt like flame and torture when he had done so and those last 15 strap lashes? I moaned around his dick thinking about them, how exquisitely eternal they had felt. He hadn't gone easy on me either, cooing his encouragements that I was the most loyal and that I could take it. He had whispered how we would go upward of a hundred count with the lighter toys.

"Jesus." I purred at the sound of his harsh curse above me and shifted in my bondage, fawning over him with loving licks. What would my master want to do tonight? Was he feeling sweet and lazy or would he want to go into some fun torture after I was done serving him this way? I arched when his hand stroked my shoulder, throatfucking him in gentle strokes. Ohhhh. There was violence in his touch. My master wanted to play some later, I was pretty sure. And he seemed in the mood to have some loving torture, my favorite kind, where he would choose a lighter toy. On those nights he wouldn't set goals for my pain training. He would just lazily make me suffer instead, cooing how I was such a sweet slave. He would slap my pussy with cruel affection, calling me a filthy fuck and horny cunt.

I shuddered over his cock, eager for all of these things and pleased that I had so learned my master. "Devi?"

I froze, eyes snapping open, and my master hissed a small sound of irritation. He lifted my face and slapped me and I sank back into my happy, dark place. For a brief moment, the voice above me had almost pulled me from the abyss my master had held me in. But his black demon wings wrapped protectively around me and he held me jealously enthralled. I curled to his touch and he stroked my hair. "Turn around for me to show you off, little plaything. You know how this goes."

I did, didn't I? When another person approached my master or asked about his little Toy, I turned for him to display me. Still, though, I felt a little shy when I looked up at Morgan. "Yes, sir." I was respectful like a good fucktoy, a whore to amuse my dark god at the moment.

Morgan stared down at me and swallowed and I suddenly realized that he was hard off seeing me in my slutty attire and my harsh reverse prayer. He was a lighter player who would never have been able to do the things my master did to me... but he got off on their effects. For the first time I was forced to consider my master's intensity and dynamic from an outside perspective.

Apparently, it was hot as all fuck to see, even if it wasn't the kind of ways people wanted to play for themselves.

Morgan shook himself and touched the chair across from my master. "May I, Ezra?"

Ezra. I shivered to the sound of my master's name and lifted when he cupped my tits. Normally he didn't allow any others in our scenes anymore, not since the last one had gone awry and displeased him. He changed his mind this time. "By all means."

Morgan sat across from him and he seemed transfixed by the sight of me. I looked up when my master held out my leash and Morgan took it. And Master was kind to me. He helped me forward when he usually preferred to watch me struggle in my reverse prayer. With his hands around me, I even felt graceful and pleasing. Morgan stroked a hand down my hair and back and I leaned into his touch and over his knee, hiding my frown. I didn't want either of them displeased, but...

I disliked Morgan's soft touch. It was nothing like my master's hard nature, nothing like my master's perfect blend of extreme cruelty and gentle encouragement. But I was a plaything and that didn't matter. Master had made it clear that I was lower than any slave and if I failed to obey whoever was gifted my leash, then I would suffer and be denied things like orgasms until I learned manners. I forced myself to arch like a cat to the stroking palm. "So sleek," he said softly.

Oh. That was right. My master had recently taken me to have my hair done and my body waxed and I hadn't been into Morgan and Trish's store since then. I spread my thighs automatically for inspection. It was a force of habit since my master loved to stroke my smoothed and waxed pussy and ass. Morgan hesitated over me and Master laughed with a touch of derision in the sound. "This is fucking painful. Christ, you wanted her the night you introduced us and now you have the chance, you're going to be awkward about it? Let me help you."

Morgan? Wanted me? I had just a second to register the words before Master took things into his own hands. He clasped Morgan's palm to my pussy and I cried out, whimpering when Morgan let out a soft moan above me. My piercer had always struck me as the light Dom type but now he seemed lost and my master was the master. He laughed above Morgan, taking his sadistic pleasure. "Ezra..." Morgan said my master's name above me, in a plea, and I cried out to the sound of it.

Master's laugh was hard and wicked, one that made me moan. I knew that laugh and it made me hot all over because it came with the darkest side of his abyss. I whimpered like a slut in heat and lifted to Morgan's hand where my master so cruelly manipulated him. "That's it. Her pussy only gets hotter the more you abuse her. She's my filthy little fuck, aren't you, Toy?"

"Yes, Master!" I cried it out eagerly, riding the fingers that teased me without quite filling me.

His chuckle was warm with approval. "And she's an obedient little toy. We've been pain training together, teaching her how to process my torture and how to accept her place. A few days ago we- I'm having trouble remembering. What was the count, little plaything?"

I moaned louder because it was a lie. He remembered perfectly which toys he had used and he always knew how many lashes or stripes he abused me with. He knew even better than I. But my master's cruelty was enjoying Morgan's arousal on his slave right now and he wanted me to help taunt him. I rubbed my cheek against Morgan's thigh where I was bent over, arching my hips in sweet submission. "12 cane tracks at your harshest, Master, and fifty strokes of your hard strap."

"So much," he answered in a shocked kind of desire.

I felt Master slap my ass and I sobbed out a plea. "I'm a good pain slut!"

Master's laugh was dark in answer and I smiled because his spank hadn't hurt so much at all, but I was on his wavelength and knew what he wanted. "She's learning to enjoy pain. Unfortunately I don't allow others to take part in that. Her pain is mine." He cinched my pussy between two fingers so that I squealed excitedly. "But there are other things. If you're interested, of course." He trailed Morgan's fingers, soaked as they were from my pussy, to my asshole and Morgan moaned when he pressed his fingers inside of my tighter hole. "I know Trish isn't the jealous type and she wanted her too. Would you like to fuck my plaything's asshole?"

I keened, writhing like crazy to the thought of this. "Oh! Oh, please!"

"Silence." My master slapped my ass with a snap in his voice and I moaned eagerly. "Hello, Trish."

My whimpers turned to a soft cry and I shivered under Morgan's touch, not daring to look up and see Trish's face. The thought scared me, a little, with how she fawned over me with soft attention all the time. But she crouched down to my side and I met her eyes anyway, turning even more heated at the way she looked at me. There was arousal and awe in her eyes. "You should give her what she wants, Morgan, and let me watch."

I had always loved hearing about Morgan and Trish's relationship, though I never imagined myself as part of it or saw them in that light, but I knew little things from our slumber parties. They had a pretty sexy little setup where they took turns while the other one watched. Oh, sometimes they fucked together but they both had lightly dominant traits and they got off on seeing someone be shown off and fawned over.

Like they were doing now, with Master engineering the scene. I arched over Morgan's knee and curved to the touch over my back while Trish smiled and watched. It was something beautiful to get to be part of, in a weird way. How much trust did it take for them to both have in each other? How much compromise and how many ways did they meet in the middle to be life partners when they weren't completely compatible on a sexual level? Being that close to an unconventional dynamic allowed an insight into their life.

I suddenly understood part of why I got along so well in such a natural way with both of them. I wasn't very conventional either. And then, in a moment of introspection, I realized that my master seemed to have sensed that or realized it. I moaned to the thought of being fucked like a little whore and shown off between these two with him supervising the use of his slave.

I only wished they were meaner.

Morgan seemed to give in with Trish's encouragement and he stroked his palm across my asscheeks with one hand while easing my asshole open with the fingers of the other. I shivered at the carnal feel, quaked in horny giddiness, living in a fantasy so well played out that it felt almost real. "I liked thinking of you in a little cat crate in our living room, where we would take you out to play and to be pampered and we'd cuddle you and pet your hair in that way you love most."

I whimpered to these things, but it wasn't nearly as arousing as my master's dark cruelty. I remembered his words from that first night too. Go back to Morgan and Trish's cozy cage. A few things made a bit more sense. The reason why my master thought these things and so casually thought I was a glitter player, for instance. But of course he would act like he had. Of course he would want nothing to do with me. I would have been a lost cause for his desires and he would have known better than to try to play with someone like that, with the terrible fantasies he had. "Yes, sir," I finally whispered back.

"So polite." Morgan spoke over me, spearing my asshole with two fingertips that made me whimper. I stroked my hands down his leg gracefully, lifting my eyes to Trish and my master. Master looked back at the scene with stern amusement and Trish was smiling down at me.

"Of course, sir. Master is keen on manners."

"I'll bet, little kitty cat."

Master lifted me from Morgan's knee, helpless as I was in my reverse prayer, and I bowed my head, subdued on the sheer fact that I was rendered so powerless from my strenuous position. He took up my collar and held it out to Morgan. "Come on. Down on the first floor is where we do this, but you can lead her."

I was so far deep into my subspace that I followed where my leash tugged, needing to be guided, and it became all the more clear how much of a softer player Morgan was. His tugs on my leash were gentle, while Trish kissed my hair from behind, and he turned around to make sure I was okay. Master wouldn't have let me wander so on the leash, would have held me taut to his side where he could easily punish my tits as he pleased, would have tugged the leash impatiently if I dared to tarry at his side. My anxiety rose a little at the thought of being displeasing to him with such slack given to his strict pain slave and when I looked up to him, he was already watching me with a small smile on his face. At the sight of me, his smile grew.

And then I realized my lips were lifting a little because he knew. He knew the nature of my thoughts. He knew my fears. He knew me.

"Take her to the bench," he said softly to Morgan. "I'll tie her down before you can give little Toy an anxiety attack."

I blushed and sidestepped eagerly to the bench he gestured to, all too happy to be back under strictures. Master took me to his own hands to release my arms from behind me, opting to tether them over the bench instead. He cinched me tight and secured my ankles to the other side so that I was spread and stretched out. "Thank you, Master." I said it softly where only he could hear and then hesitantly whispered, "May I tell you something?"

"Go on." Short and cold, like always. I smiled, remembering how I had so shivered to that voice. But now I knew his heat was far more terrifying than that coolness.

"It feels wrong to be allowed to cum with someone else using my ass. It hurts enough."

He clasped his hand around my collar, encasing it and me so I closed my eyes, enjoying the fact that he held my breath in his hand. "Not to me. You'll cum twice for him to help you get over it. I don't care who uses your holes. Fucktoys are meant to be shared, but pain sluts belong to me."

"Yes, Master. Thank you." I bowed low, enjoying the feeling of helplessness. There was something very soothing to my submissive side to hear that what was happening was outside of my control and there was nothing I could do about it, except to endure it gracefully. It went down to my deepest emotions and the fact that my Master was so unforgiving, so immovable in his decrees?

It was harsh and cruel and torturous. It was also security, something I had grown to appreciate in him. I calmed in my bondage. And I moaned in acceptance when I felt Morgan's fingers toying with my asshole again, and this time they were pressing deep with lubricant. And he was so gentle.

My master wouldn't be so kind at all. Master would force me to take cock with a cruel pepper based lubricant or maybe just my cum. He would have me sobbing with panic. But of course he would also be twisting cane stripes he had left with his loving punishment.

My breath shook with those thoughts when I felt Trish's touch trail down my spine. "This sexy ass, little kitty cat." Oh, but the protective sound in her voice made so much sense to me now, alongside all her games with me. The way she always called me "kitty cat". I looked up to Master but he was sitting at a distance, relaxed.

But not entirely relaxed. When I looked closer, I could notice some tensions in my master. He had the act down, yes, but there was a tightness in his shoulders that made me sad to see. He had been affected by the last scene he had tried to share me in, I realized, and his trust was not easily returned in others.

His eyes narrowed when I watched him a little too long and I also realized that I was being a very bad Toy. Er... was I being bad? Didn't Master always like my attention? Oh, now I was confused.

He didn't leave me to wonder for long and I loved him for it. No, he stood and walked to me, grasping my throat again and I shuddered a full body reaction at how harsh he was. Morgan and Trish were so gentle and so relaxed and I was getting so confused from it. My master was commanding of my attention and didn't let me have any leeway. His leash was tight and short. And he set me straight when they weren't rough enough to do it. "I said I wanted to share you and watch you cum with his cock in your ass. When I give you to someone else, you give them your goddamn attention. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Master." His tone threatened punishment, if I hadn't earned it already. I very well understood with the amount of fear he had inspired.

He looked up at Morgan behind me and I kept my eyes lowered to the ground so I didn't see whatever exchange they had. I knew no words were spoken, however, but when Master turned away and went back to his seat, Morgan moved more purposefully. "Naughty little kitty cat. Your attention and playing reflect on your master. Just because I can't punish you doesn't mean you shouldn't try."