Unimaginable Heat

I look with wide eyes as it comes near me. I can smell the charred flesh in the air. The sick smell of burned hair.

I feel it near my skin before it even touches. The already burned meat cries out in agony before it even gets close.

My screams echo through the room. I clutch wildly at the sides of the table.

I look to him shivering. I feel my tears running down my face, dripping from my nose. I'm drenched in sweat and the feeling of pain is now never ending.

I scream as it spikes again. A line of fire six inches long across my leg. Where it overlaps the previous line is a point of pain so intense I feel my fingernails splitting from the force. I'm shredding leather digging into the foam padding underneath.

I watch with a sick fascination as he heats the line again. I shiver and finally cringe as it nears my skin again.

My throat is ragged, by the time I stop screaming.

"I think that's probably enough." I hear the branding artist say.

Part of me wants to agree. Then there is the other part. My master.

"Do more. The backs of her legs." I tell the man in the chair next to me. My voice is deep and dark. I shiver hearing it come from my throat. "Turn the fuck over."

I obey my master crying out as the front of my legs touch the padded table.

"Silence."

I settle into whimpering fear waiting for the feel of the hot wire on my flesh.

I don't have to wait long.

Like a line of white agony the hot wire is touched to my skin. I scream as it burns through the layers.

My hand lifts from the table shaking. Then it goes firm and grabs the back of my head. My face is driven into the cushion.

"I told you to be silent." My voice is harsh. I can hear a total lack of sympathy.

Some how I obey. I clinch my teeth together as over and over the hot wire is brought back to touch me with the lines of criss-crossing fire.

"You may touch yourself."

I hear myself command me and I whimper in bliss. My fingers slide under me and down into my panties. My clit sits like it's in warm pudding. I have only to touch it lightly and shivers run through out my body.

As I feel myself start to cry out in orgasm I bite down on my lip to keep it silent,then I'm again touched with fire.

I feel two of my teeth break through my lips. There is a taste of blood in my mouth. I feel the waterfall of tears as a hand begins to rubs a cream into my tortured flesh. It's so very cool. The hot lines of fire numb at its touch.

"On your feet, Now!"

Obeying myself I roll up off the table and stand on trembling legs. I feel a raw sting of pain as my juices dribble down over one of the new lines of branding.

Looking in the mirror I stare at the wonderful webbing, the masterpiece of the branding art that is my fishnet stocking. They're not finished but they look wonderful.

"Get dressed slut." I tell myself.

"Yes master." I whisper back softly as I move to get my clothes. I hear my master thank the artist for his skill.

My pants rub my legs like whips as they slide up my newly branded legs.

"How many more sessions?" Master asks.

"Like today? Probably three." The brander answers.

"Good. Thank the artist properly, slut." I tell myself.

"Yes master." I whisper politely, subserviently. The artist looks at me as I come over and kneel down in front of him. I unzip his pants and pull his cock from his underwear. I can smell the strong male scent on him, then taste it as I take him into my mouth.

He is warm and soon slick with drool as I suck and lick him. I obey the silent command of my master to go deeper. When his cock touches the back of my throat I feel it give a twitch. I have to fight the urge to breathe, to gag.

I know the master is proud of me when I bring my artist to orgasm. The warm wet feeling of his cum as it swamps my mouth. I swallow and swallow but he continues to cum. Finally after what feels like several minutes he dribbles to a stop. I feel his hand come to rest on my head. My head comes up off his cock in a rush.

"Please don't pet her." The master says calmly. "You could ruin her as a slave if she thinks she's being given praise. Oh your feet, slut" My voice is commanding and firm. I feel my leash pulled and I get to my feet. The master pays the man for his work and I'm led out the door. I know I'll be punished when I get home for my screams. My moment of weakness before the fire. I'm already whimpering in anticipation of it.

* * * *

Reaching over I turn off the bottle of the torch I heat my branding tools with. I watch my client leave with a shake of my head. My eyes come to rest on my own reflection in the big mirror.

"That is one psycho Bitch." I tell myself softly.

"Yep." I agree quickly. "Still a thousand bucks plus a blowjob? That's a hell of a tip. More than worth putting up with a masochistic dominatrix, with herself as a slave. God knows I've seen weirder shit."

Nodding I agree with myself.

I stop.

"Fuck the bitch is contagious!"

I nod agreement with myself again. Shaking my head I look away from the mirror I start to put up the tools again. Then tuning on the fan to take away the smell of burnt human skin.

Why is it always on a Monday I get the weird shit?

I look up when the door chimes and the girl I'm nipple branding comes walking in.

Always on a Monday.