Sadist's Fire Pt. 03: Wedding

Author's note: I'm going to be honest. This one had some of my favorite characters. And, as the title suggests, it's a sadist and masochist story. It's also a romance. I know those things aren't everyone's thing, but if it is your thing, I hope you have as much fun as I did :D

Ezra

Devi West was a fucking animal. I didn't even care that I was apparently sleeping in fucking cuffs that night. Granted, that was one hell of a first, but so were a lot of things that night. It had been a downward spiral from the moment she first purred the word "daddy". Apparently that whiskey had been a magic elixir to her inner whore. And the way she shouted my name at the end? Christ.

I turned my head slightly and fell asleep with the scent of her strawberry shampoo making me smile. I would have to buy her different brands though and fix some of her ends. A sense of prideful possession had me in its grip and there were not so good thoughts running through me, sickening thoughts like how my slave would be neat and well kept since it reflected on me. This was not how people were supposed to think of each other.

And I didn't fucking care anymore. Especially when she nestled so comfortably against my side. I had hard lines and jagged edges in my figure and she was soft, with delectable curves and skin like silk. On the surface she didn't have a rough edge to her. But beneath? The thought of all that harsh deviancy made me smile even when I was halfway asleep. Even chained to my bed I felt relaxed with her by my side and that was a fucking novelty. I didn't feel safe with anyone for the most part but the way she looked at me was with pure worship in her eyes. She couldn't hurt me. It had taken alcohol just to get her to so much as sensually bite me or say my name. I slept incredibly peacefully for a Dom who was in bondage.

And I didn't regret it because I got to see the most adorable thing I'd ever seen in my life when I woke up. It was her finally stirring that brought me to reality again. I felt her jostle the bed beside me, felt her stretch along my side where she slept so peacefully and happily. I opened my eyes and watched her smile while she was still half asleep, watched her delicately scratch my chest in a way reminiscent of a lazy cat, sated after its kill.

And then she froze and I couldn't stop the slow grin on my face. Because she looked up at me and blinked and I got the pleasure of watching every memory as it crossed her face and eyes with first disbelief and then acceptance, followed quickly by dawning horror. She shot up and opened her mouth and finally whispered, "Are you going to kill me?"

I laughed and it came out genuinely warm and affectionate. Ah, what had she done to me? I had become softer. Of course, I had become a lot harder in some ways too. The way my mind assessed her and decided my Toy's hair needed some more life and attention testified a lot to that. "Not hardly. I will pay more attention to my little plaything in the future though. This was certainly a learning experience." I looked up at my wrists. "Do you mind, sweetheart?"

"No! Of course not, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Oh my god, I'm sorry." She worked at the cuffs, trembling in a personal shock, which was understandable really. I had not set the precedent of being a light Dom.

"Easy. Take deep breaths. I'm not even going to punish you for it. There's a few consequences but it's alright." I helped her when my right hand was free.

"But I touched you!" She squeaked it like it was a mortal sin.

I couldn't keep from laughing lightly, couldn't keep from teasing her just a little. "Oh, was that where the line was? We've fucked like rabbits after hard whip sessions, but touching me last night was a hard no. And you touch me all the time, little one."

"But it was different! I don't know but it was wrong!" She looked at me with such distress in her eyes that I rubbed my wrists and studied her.

"Ah, because I'm so godlike and you were too bold?"

She blushed furiously but looked down and I knew that was why. I knew it easily. Ah, well, it had been fun to let her play while it lasted. I stood and took back her leash gladly, though. Well, her metaphorical leash. Literally, I took her with a hand in her hair and made her look at me, but I was gentle about it too. And that was... new. Somewhere along the line she had satisfied a deep part of me and I had been trying to give us some space and allow us to talk about moving forward, but now it didn't feel like that.

It felt like something a little worse than that actually. If we were talking in terms of a normal relationship and I had been trying to talk about being engaged to her before? It now felt like we were actually engaged and my plans of talking had been blown to bits in my face. I stroked her cheek lovingly, adoring her for what she let me do. "Well, perhaps you should practice to get used to worshiping me like you like to imagine. Rub my sides, sweetheart."

She stared up at me, wide eyed, and then stroked her hands obediently up my sides, soothing the hardness there. "It's different when I have permission. You d-didn't say last night."

She worked her fingers so softly for her massage, sending gentle pleasure through my torso. "Ah, a submissive who took initiative and got insecure about it. I'm rather certain that this is a problem other people have heard before. Want to know a secret?"

I looked down at her and she nodded fearfully, smoothing her palms around my back. I smiled approvingly. "I haven't been so out of control in a long while. It was rather enjoyable for a novelty fuck, but we'll start the rules again now to make both of us feel better. You can have that one for free but the next one earns you punishment and you don't want to know what that feels like under me."

She shook in terror and her hands froze where she held me, so that I looked down and smiled with dominant adrenaline, a power trip racing through my blood stream. I felt like a mutt looking down on the prey it had been trained to hunt and run. And there was the animal that was addicted to hurting her, singing in my blood, making me aroused as all hell while she widened her eyes in innocent fear and taunted me...

When she cringed from me, I bared my teeth. "Stop flirting, you little slut. Didn't you get enough cock last night or no?"

She moaned and I thrilled to the way she so easily lost control, the way she so easily gave herself over. "I don't think I can stop that, Master."

I laughed. "You're just naturally a little fucking flirt like that? That's not good news for you, lovely." But I smiled at her. After the night before, any moral questions or concerns I had had been discarded. She was mine, all mine, and I would punish her as much as I had to for her rebellions, discipline her with as harsh of a routine as I needed to make her bow at my side. There was a security in being free of the conscience that came with moral behavior. "I'll take you up on it often."

"I'm scared," she finally burst out. "I mean I've always been scared of things like the needles and all that but things are different now, aren't they? What are you going to do to me? I-"

I covered her mouth and a tear or two escaped the corner of her eyes, making me hard, but I smiled and it was gentle. "I'm going to do whatever I have to, lovely. You'll love every second of it, but you can come to my side willingly from here on out or, if you're dying for some thrill, I'll break you until you're a pleading, pathetically shaking and broken Toy in my dungeon."

The tears broke wide and I took away my hand for her to answer. "You know. You already know! And you're going to make me say it anyway?" I grinned and she hid her face in my torso, holding me in her humiliation. She mumbled and I caught some of the words, already knowing what they were.

But I was cruel too and grasped her hair to hold her in pain. "I can't fucking hear you like that. Be clear about how much of my fucktoy you are."

She hesitated and then forced it out. "I hate you! I'm willing and I love you, Master, but I want you to break me anyway until I feel hopeless for weeks, for fucking months. Please! Please..." Her voice was wounded and I stroked her hair soothingly, understanding. My poor little masochist. Such a twisted plight to have sometimes, to be so afraid but to crave to feel more fear. She hesitated and then asked quietly, "Has anyone ever asking you for that?"

My answer was easy. "No. I've never had a slave so devoted to beg for that kind of intimacy, dearest. And I have never wanted to go so far with anyone else." Her head fell forward in a dark form of submission and I massaged her shoulders, but I took a step away from her as well. "You will need to set up a vacation, angel. Call and do it now, if you can, and let me know. I'll be busy for a moment so I want you to do that and when you're done, meditate, and you know what I want you to think about."

"Yes, Master." But of course she knew. She knew that she was to think of her own submission, knew that she was to resign herself to my breaking her.

And she knew that she was to remember that I would never truly leave her broken. I would not create masochism wounds I could not heal, no matter how dark I was. Even if she self destructed in my face, I would make sure she went to a psychologist and healed her way out of my life if I had to. God, that thought horrified me, made me fucking sick, so much so that I could feel bile in the back of my throat. I had never slept soundly with anyone at my side, let alone while I was fucking cuffed. And yet, I would help her do that, if that was all that was left for her to do.

But for the time being she continuously proved herself a resilient creature. From the first she had shown that off and now she showed it again. She bowed her head. "I love you, Master." And her voice was calmer, serene even.

"There's my girl." I pet her hair and held her head at my torso, soothing her to the fate of such a terrible master. "There's my sexy little fucktoy." And it was all the more heady that I knew I had already won. She was mine no matter how hard I had to be, all mine. And I knew exactly how to calm her from her fear of such a hard scene. "Before I get something, Toy, are you religious by any chance?"

She looked up at me, still wide eyed, and I knew she wasn't lying with her answer. My Toy couldn't withhold and could not lie. "No, Master. Not for years. As soon as I was given a choice, I left religion. May I ask why you want to know?"

I smiled wickedly. "I want to play out your religion of me as a fetish one day and didn't want to cross into actual religion if you felt anything for it."

My distraction worked. She grinned up at me, a shy grin, and kissed my torso. It was amazing how quickly she had fallen back into her terror of me as soon as the liquor left her system. It seemed as if my little pet turned into a monster with alcohol.

It was a thought that amused me, the picture of my little cowering kitten showing her claws when her inhibitions were gone. I wanted to get her drunk again and then punish her for it because it was unfair to do it.

"Yes, Master." There was a wicked glint in her eyes to go along with a sly little smile while she chased whichever dark dreams she had from my words.

"Tell me what you're fantasizing," I said softly. "Be a good pet."

She grinned, obviously pleased that we knew each other so well and that I could read her so easily. But she also blushed and when she started talking, I could see why she would do that. Every word was filthy and profane in the best kind of taboo way. "I'm thinking of what it would be like to be tied to an altar, wearing a white dress like the movies so you could cut through it. And, when I masturbate to the fantasy, you're so harsh and silent and cruel and distant that I wonder what you're going to do to me. Like, I wonder if you're going to kill me or not because I'm a sacrifice in whatever way you want. And after you start fucking me, you finally talk and tell me I'm going to be a pain and cock addict and I cry because I'm an innocent little virgin." Her grin was wicked and she giggled. "That kind of thing."

I stared down at her affectionately, feeling so tall with her under my hand and looking up at me with that adoring look. "God, Toy, you filthy little fuck." She giggled to my crass endearment and I had her calmed again, so I softly gave her the command. "Make the call like a good girl and let me know. It's going to be so good, baby. It's going to be a nightmare come true. I can be poetic along with hellish. I know what you need and I can make breaking you into a fucking religion."

She moaned and lifted up to me, gracing me with a sound I'd never forget. It was a blend between a sob of dread, a terrified squeak of excitement, and a loving whimper of lust. My cock went hard and I wanted to brutalize her asshole again and pump it full of more cum. I wanted to make her cry at my knees so that I could shelter her and lick her tears. I wanted to chain her to an altar like her fantasies and terrorize her as if she was a sacrifice to my depravity, so I could release the fetters and watch her kiss my feet in cowering adoration. I wanted to be the monster from all the fairy tales and follow it up with being the savior, the knight that was never afraid of dragons.

I had to make myself leave her to get her new collar while she made her phone call and even that made me hard. It made me feel drunk that she was helping me plan such a dark event and I knew it would be dark. I also knew that she had so far displayed enough resilience that she would be able to withstand my worst and that too was a fact that made me hard. Many players had things like curiosity and endurance and a high pain tolerance and those were all wonderful things but when you were a rough enough sadist, you learned to look for something else that was even more invaluable. It was the mental fortitude and down to earth processing that could go to the romantic dark side and come back to sanity. As a terrible person, I couldn't resist that darkness. It was an innate part of me and a relationship without it was something I didn't even pause to consider. I needed the intensity because it was something that made me feel. It made me feel love and admiration and the need to protect. It opened me up to so much emotion and it did so in a controlled environment.

But as a human being, I also didn't want to mentally damage or ever do real harm. I wanted to hurt her, yes, and I most certainly was in the dark mindset that thought of her as my property and my Toy. And that was twisted. It was really fucking twisted. But I never ever wanted to make her insane. Only the good kinds of crazy.

Ah. The philosophies of being a sadist and a Dom. One side wanted to hurt and the other would forever want to care for and nurture and protect and control. There was a delightful kind of conflict in it and the trick was finding the balance beams. The trouble with her and I, though? It was how easily the balance came and how deep we could go together. Even then I thought of all those things when I took up her collar. I thought of what I was planning for our weekend together and how not even Dustin would have ever consented to what I was going to do to my slave. I thought of Brian's looks of concern when I had taken Toy to the private rooms and realized that my possession of her had been a noticeable and frightening thing to others even by that point. I wondered what Lavrov would think and then decided I would show her off at Sulfur's more often, as I hadn't been doing so many exhibition scenes with her.

When I went back to her my thoughts were all over the place. Thousands of ideas ran through me along with fantasies and philosophies. But then I saw her again. And they all went silent when she looked at me and softly said. "Two weeks from now is the holiday weekend. I took the Tuesday off as well for a four day time period. I thought it might be the easiest for you to work around."

I stroked her hair lovingly, thinking of how much pain I was going to give her, thinking of how much torture I was going to make her orgasm from. Over and over until she no longer saw anything but the hopeless night and ecstasy that came with it. "Good girl and you're right. That is easiest for me. Mondays and Tuesdays are generally consultations as it is. I might have to leave you for a time during it but that's not a problem. Now, there's one last thing." I held up the slim black day collar I had and her eyes widened with a delightful bit of play fear. She made to back away from me and my blood raced with excitement while I braced myself to chase her, to wrestle her.

It wasn't nearly a chase at all though. She went still for a moment, in the way that prey would, and then jolted once over my bed, but it was so pathetically done that it was an obvious game and I had to laugh. I got her about her neck and shoved her bent over my bed. "Bad little fuck. You know a pain slut like you needs to be marked as owned. You didn't even take a chance to look at the charm with your name on it, Toy." She moaned into my bed and lifted her ass, wriggling in a way that begged for a fucking. And I let her. I let her grind back against my hard length while she whimpered like an animal and I took the time to fix the collar around her throat. "How pretty you are. Your throat was made for a collar. It's okay to cum for me from this. Go on and take what you need from me." I cooed it over her twistedly, snapping the heart lock closed and fixing the slim band so that the charm with the word "Toy" was displayed at the hollow of her throat.

And I laughed because as soon as she heard the lock snap she threw her head back in hedonistic abandon, giving over to the waves of pleasure she got from the thought of my ownership. "Filthy fuck," I whispered, and somewhere along the way those words had become my version of "I love you". "Now it's my turn. I want your asshole again. Behave and maybe I'll even let you cum some more. I'm feeling generous."

Actually I was feeling in love which made me a kind sadist in some ways.

And a lot more cruel in others.

————

Devi

My master let me go the morning after my drunken foray, once he knew he had me set for a hard session two weeks after. His hand was gentle when he pet my hair and I wore clothes that he had given me, soft fabrics that made me feel even more delicate under his harsh touch. And the collar. Oh, the collar he had locked around me. It was a delicate looking thing but as soon as I was outside his door I tugged the band and found it sturdy. The heart shaped lock? It was gleaming silver and lovely, but it was a prettied up padlock nonetheless and the collar wasn't coming off even if I had a desire to be free of it. I wondered what he would do if I ran.

But then I shivered, remembering the look in his eyes after my drunken behavior. I had a feeling he would chase after me for a long while and a long way if he had to. Maybe I should have been scared by that fact. Instead, I remembered trailing after him in the mall and grinned with thrill at the thought of running away from his cage and making him chase me to bring him back. I wanted to.

I would, too. Eventually. He had shown me that my terrible fantasies had a potential to become real in at least a quasi-safe manner. I knew he was only distracting me by bringing up my religion fantasy, but that had been another way to show me. What was more, I was still scared of him, terrified, but it was a much different fear than when we had begun. Those beginning sessions where he had used my services as his personal whore had been thrill rides out of hell, but it was like the hell right before the entry gates. Now I felt like I was descending. I was past the gates and going deeper into the fires.