Sadistic Biker Domme
Her friends say Mistress Varla is the most merciless Domme they have ever met. Mistress Varla says they mean she has the most common sense.
“Men do not merit mercy. They use pity to top from the bottom.
“My slave men beg for control. To become objects. All sign contracts.
“I own them but owe them nothing. They owe me unquestioning obedience.
“Whips teach them obedience.”
She once had many slaves. Men who lived as doormats, footstools, toilet paper. She grew weary of so many men. Now she keeps only three.
One slave lives outside. A former mechanic, his days pass in functional drudgery. Her yards are immaculate. Cars washed and polished. He also tends her flower and vegetable gardens. A busy life of servitude without time for thought or pleasure.
Mistress Varla chains him to her motorcycle at sundown. His most important task is tending the motorcycle. The machine’s slave is like a second Mistress Owner.
One morning Mistress Varla found dirty spots in several places. She felt as much surprise as anger. Slave had never let this happen.
She grabbed the man’s hair with one hand, punched him with the other.
“Worthless piece of shit!”
Frightened, already weeping, knowing his helplessness, the slave trembled.
“You bastard. Scum! Trash! You will never forget this day.”
Her boot slammed into his genitals. He squealed, bent over.
Mistress Varla seemed to grow calm. She smiled.
Looking up, seeing Mistress Owner’s face, he cringed. Quiet smiles preceded her most brutal cruelties.
Unfurling the black whip coiled at her side, she beat him.
Furious lashes cut permanent scars. He begged and pled. Mistress Varla never slowed or diminished the violence of her whip. Living in an isolated area, the cracks of the whip, the man’s screams had no audience.
Whipping fresh welts, she cut deep gashes in his body. Vocal cords over strained, his screams now came out as whispers.
He collapsed. She fumed then relaxed. His bloody body was a grotesque mess.
Hot piss splashed on his face waking him. He flinched. Mistress Owner’s face was impassive.
“You will lick my motorcycle clean with your tongue, including the tires while I watch.”
She sat. He began. His tongue quickly dried. The long dreary tasks made his tongue swell. He could not eat.
Mistress Varla let him grovel. Unchained him. Road away. This would be a delightful story to share with her Domme friends.
Wounds would slowly heal. For days aches would bring tears.
For the rest of his life, he would think of this day. Memories other would hate, thrilled him. Mistress Varla sold him.
Even as another woman’s slave, he worshiped Mistress Varla. Dreamed of groveling at her feet.
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Originally posted 2018-01-14 09:44:44.