Both Men Suffer for Her Pleasure
Prudent Mistress Owners keep at least two males. One is primary servant. It keeps home in order, prepares well-cook meals. The other, a pain slave who has no use other than amusing women with its suffering.
Her personal servant’s first daily maintenance whipping always follows Thalia’s breakfast.
“You please me every morning.”
Coffee and cruelty cheered her.
“You always cry. For you pain never dims. You ache today as much as you did the first time, I beat you.
“Anyone can cook my breakfast. Only you suffer endlessly for my delight.”
The last lash fell.
“Eat your slop, clean the dishes, crawl to me.”
Thalia was horny. But her itch was for cruelty not sex. Orgasms were her way of coming down from sadistic highs.
She wanted to torment her servant. Rules of her own creation prevented that. She could whip him again after dinner. He was not for momentary cravings. A valuable adjunct to her life; she took care to preserve him.
She could lock him in a tiny cage. It was best to let him continue his rounds of chores. Being useful kept his worship alive. She would regret wasting or losing him.
She remembered the slave in her basement. A dungeon plaything, she set aside for another day. A disposable plaything. Nothing to keep long-term.
Thalia had introduced him to entertaining new cruelties at last night’s party.
She dressed. A costume more fit than merely stockings and heels. All black: corset, knee length skirt, simple pumps.
The slave, she kidnapped him a week ago, sat on a bench in a cell. She unlocked the door. Waving her cane, she signaled him to come out.
Instead he went to the farthest corner of the cell. Prior sessions stripped him of everything but terror. His panic was delicious.
Sight of Thalia made him tremble, his stomach knotted. She smiled. His disobedience testified to her skill and talent. Her expertness in male suffering won admiration of other Dommes. Men feared her. The better they knew her, the deeper their fear.
Watching him squirm, made her glad hidden cameras record everything. She put together clips of her best sessions. Her friends enjoyed watching her dissolve male hope. Her outré imagination never flagged. Once when you thought you had seen it all, she would surprise her audience.
“If you don’t come here right now, you’ll regret it.”
Perhaps sheer fear paralyzed him. She put down the cane, pulled a cattle prod from the wall. He had screamed the loudest when used it the prior night.
He crammed himself into the corner. It was as if he thought he could pass through the walls.
When Thalia walked toward him, there was no place to go. She shocked both knees. He fell.
She tapped his buttocks, urging him forward. Each touch caused a spasm.
Forcing him up, she pushed him to a bondage rack. Thick leather bonds never broke. Moved by his helplessness, she stroked his hair. Her softness confused without comforting him.
A thrill ran up her spine. For a moment she saw him as only a collection of nerve endings. Pain receptors.
Thalia paused to take two capsules. Stimulants. It had been a long time since she had tormented a man for twenty-four hours. She hoped t his pathetic male would last that long.
She shoved two capsules down his throat. He would not pass out or faint.
He was already weeping. She would repeatedly drain his tear ducts.
He would scream and shriek. She shoved a gag in his mouth. Later he would not have the strength to do more than moan. The gag would come out so she could enjoy the sound of his suffering.