Domme Owner’s New Dungeon Chattel
Mistress Camille showed him the value of his manhood. She used the tip of his phallus to put out a cigarette. Gagged, bound tightly in place, he could neither scream nor flee.
Looking in her face he saw nothing but pleasure in her cruelty. This was his introduction to his new Mistress Owner.
“You are nothing. That is literal. When I say ‘nothing’ I am addressing you.
“The name you once had is irrelevant. Your old life has ended. Now you are a woman’s property.
“Do you have any questions?”
He nodded. She backhanded him.
“Slaves do not ask questions. Slaves rarely speak. You are permitted to say Yes, No, Mistress, worthless, slave. The last two words are how you refer to yourself.”
She squeezed one of his nipples between fingernails.
He looked at her with sad eyes. She yanked his hair.
“Don’t waste your time hoping for pity.
“You are a pain slave. You will live in my dungeon. When I’m done, what is left of you will go to someone who needs a worker.
“Your future is suffering and servitude.”
Mistress Camille detached him from the wall. She led him down a staircase.
Chains and shackles replaced rope. She bound him to the wall. He could barely move.
She picked up a small butane torch. When the flame lit, he almost fainted. He had never felt so much terror.
Mistress Camille walked over to him. She stood and smiled. His naked fear was delicious.
Going to a table, she held heavy iron tongs over the flame.
“I always brand my new property.”
Carrying the hot tongs, she clamped each nipple. The smell of his own burning flesh nauseated the man.
Mistress Camille shackled his wrists together, then his legs. He could barely walk. She dragged him to a small cage and stuffed him inside.
“I love the sight of a helpless man. I doubt you will sleep well.
“Tomorrow we will spend the day together.”
Alone in a cage, sightless in a dark chamber, he wept.