Merciless, Pitiless Mistress
Her voice a seductive purr; she whispers into the man’s ear. Her manner is of a woman speaking to her dearest darling. Her words terrify him. She speaks of his slow, agonized destruction. The death of his ego, dissolution of his identity and maiming of his body.
In these moments, Mistress is enamored of him. Her loins grow warm in his presence. A natural response of this woman when she has prey in hand. Her words are corrosive, wearing away the edges of his spirit.
Her prey hurts. Mistress whipped the sides of his body. Ravaged his nipples. His testicles ache. On the first evening, she gives her new chattel only a foretaste. A taste of his nullity.
Hypnotized, he has not wept. He will. After she leaves, a sense of bleak finality will bring tears. Alone, his mind almost chokes with foreboding. Can a human personality survive certain doom?
He wants to beg and plead. She would only laugh at his futile words. Gagged he cannot interfere with her monologue. A manipulator of male mind and body, she calculates every phrase. Making him understand his damnation is the most enjoyable part of the first day.
When she first removes the gag, clamps, maybe fishhooks will mark the edges of his tongue. The second time – the last time – she will savor his shrieks. Prey never escapes. But that is months in the future. She wishes men were better made. Able to endure decades, centuries, an eternity of anguish.
Alone, in black emptiness, he cannot sleep. Like many men, awaiting a sadist’s pleasure, his imagination surges in wild arcs. But unlike most, he does not exaggerate. The coming months will be all that he fears. She will take him near to madness only cruelly to preserve his sanity.
Knowing his fearful wakefulness, Mistress smiles as slumber overtakes her.
(Moved from on of my other sites.)