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Easter Story Time! “Pain Slut” by slave P.

A story here from slave P…

“Be careful what you wish for”. How many times had he read that on the web sites advertising professional mistress’s services? He had taken it all at face value; not seen through the poor graphics, the hell fire and other tropes, the portentous music.

He believed it as well. Believed that a ‘phone call would lead to a “world of pain”, “indescribable torment” or even, beyond tastelessness, “torture that the Nazis would not have inflicted”.

Now he knows all this for what it is: empty rhetoric and hyperbolic descriptions of tacky dungeons and bored mistresses with no interest in their clients – and this is what they are; not slaves – other than the contents of their wallets.

So let us look at George as he contemplates this and the nature of his own sexuality and revels in the attention of the woman who has stepped into his mind and unlocked new doors…

London Mistresses' Favourite Pain Slut Story

George lies naked on the floor. His ankles are held apart by a spreader bar and his wrists tied, the loose ends of the rope being held by his Mistress’s beautiful vanilla friend, Miss Anna, who flicks the pegs clamped to his nipples and idly runs a pinwheel over him.

His Mistress, having slapped his balls a few times, has strapped an electric collar around his cock and balls and is gradually turning up the power.

He has had electric stimulation before, even been bought to orgasm by it, but this time it just hurt. Mistress and Miss Anna laugh as his legs and hips contort to the shocks. There was no rhythm to them; Mistress would stop to gossip with Miss Anna and then hit him with a flurry, some short and some that he thought would never stop. Mistress told him that the device would go from nought to ninety nine and she had it set at sixty. Please keep it there!

And yet: despite the pain or any physical sexual stimulation, the thought of begging Mistress to stop or using a “safe word” does not cross his mind. He will endure his torment as long as Mistress wishes it; not to prove his stoicism or make a point but because he knows the pleasure it gives his Mistress to torture him and her pleasure is his pleasure; he is a pain slut.

………………………………………………………………………

George had not arrived to this, his true nature, by any deliberate or conscious act; he had not known who he was.

From adolescence he had been interested in themes of female dominance and there was some unfulfilling play with partners and, of course, literature, good and bad.

The internet changed all this and there was an inevitability that George would, one day, turn his fantasies to reality. His wanderings through cyberspace turned away from stories, blogs and “how to” guides and to the sites of professional mistresses and the more he read the more he knew that he would, one day, take the leap into the dark.

His fantasies were nearly all of the “domestic discipline” variety. A dominant partner who humiliates, spanks, orders corner time, sets chores whilst she relaxes, is capricious, cruel but loving. This is what George thought he was looking for with the first few Dommes that he visited. Personal circumstances and a fear of pain meant that George asked for no marks and more emphasis on the humiliation side than the physical.

Yes, George did not like pain. He would even have sedation for dental work and it was with trepidation that he approached his first spankings, which he requested as much for the humiliation as for any physical stimulus. He soon learned that beatings without marks were easily received although he would sometimes be surprised when an implement wrapped round to his hip and he learned that some very delicate mistresses could deliver a very hard spanking.

Then he met his Mistress. Attracted by promise of true humiliation in a domestic surrounding and by her youth and beauty he arrived on a wet December’s evening and his world changed. From entering the door of her apartment he was hers. Her lustrous black hair, beautiful features, deep eyes and glorious figure were captivating enough but there was more, much more. With wisdom beyond her years, she knew how to manipulate and shape men and to reach their true selves.

No PVC or pole dancer’s tack for her; she would wear pretty short dresses and classic stilettos and later, by request, bikinis or bra and panties. Her grooming was immaculate, her voice soft, friendly but commanding and her brain astute, incisive, educated and well informed.

Their first two sessions were much as he was used to but with the added spice of a master [mistress?] practitioner. His request for no marks was expertly met with a caning through a wet towel that was certainly his most painful experience to date and the humiliations became more intense.

It was at their third meeting that the dynamic changed. They had not discussed what would happen and after an initial spanking George found himself sitting on a small chair with his wrists and ankles fettered together. Mistress started to torment his nipples with pegs and at one point twisted so hard that he yelled with surprise and pain. Mistress laughed and carried on her work as George wondered why he was coping with the pain so well. He would normally make a terrible fuss about the slightest scratch. The pegs then made their way to his cock and as Mistress placed a peg on the end, he came.

Mistress’s eyes opened wide in delight. “You’re a pain slut! Did you realise?” Her joy was no pretence.

George’s life had changed. George is a pain slut.

………………………………………………………………………

As Mistress chatted with Miss Anna about a slave she had seen the night before, he steeled himself to tell her what he should have at the beginning of the session.

“May I speak Mistress?”

“You may”.

“I will be alone for four weeks so you could mark me if you wish.”

Mistress’s eyes flashed and she spoke with venom that he had never heard before;

“Why didn’t you tell me this before we started? Haven’t I told you not to keep secrets from me? Don’t you trust me? Don’t you want to be my pain slut? You disappoint me.”

“I’m sorry Mistress” he gabbled “I was scared. Please forgive me, please”.

“Forgiveness comes at a price. Will you prove to me that you are my pain slut? Will you suffer for my pleasure?”

He trembled as he readily assented.

Mistress passed the shock collar control to Miss Anna. “Please turn it up to 70 and keep him awake”. Miss Anna was only too eager to assist and George screamed.

Mistress removed her knickers, balled them and stuffed them into his mouth, securing them with a silk scarf.

“That should shut you up a bit” she growled as she reached for one of the several lit candles that she kept on the coffee table beside her. The hot wax was soon dripping onto his nipples and chest as he groaned through the knickers.

George was overwhelmed by so many new experiences. He had seen, heard, smelt and touched Mistress but now he was tasting her and dealing with the fierce shocks that Miss Anna was applying. How could he cope with more?

“Stop a moment Miss Anna, I want him still”. With horror, he saw her pick up a fresh candle and hold it over his cock. She held his eyes and smiled as she slowly tipped it and the hot wax spilled onto his defenceless prick. Mistress could see through the pain in his eyes; she could see the devotion that lay beneath.

“This is only a start” Mistress said and she and Miss Anna released his bonds. She grabbed his balls and pulled him over to a bench whilst Miss Anna arranged a pile of cushions and sat beside them, still holding the shock collar control. “Lie face down with your hips on the cushions and your head in Miss Anna’s lap” Mistress commanded.

Miss Anna’s skirt had ridden up and he found himself with his arse presented to the world and his face pressed into her thighs. There could be worse fates. Or could there?

“Now I am going to seriously punish you. If you are my pain slut you will take it for me but, if not, I will never see you again. I won’t mind if you want to be bound. Would it help?”

To never see Mistress again! Just the thought was worse than any pain that she could inflict on him but he did not know if he would be able to stand what was in store for him so he nodded his head vigorously and tried to splutter “yes please Mistress” through his gag. She quickly had his wrists shackled behind his back, his ankles cuffed together and a strap around his knees. The die was cast and he settled his head into Miss Anna’s lap as Mistress reached for her thick long leather strap, split at the end..

“You will receive twelve stokes of this strap but as I hit you Miss Anna will shock you. The stroke only counts if you are hit and shocked simultaneously. Miss Anna, please raise the dial to eighty”.

There was a time lag between pressing the button on the remote control and the shock being received. Because of this it took them four goes before they managed it. Whether the strap crashed onto his defenceless buttocks first and was followed by the shock or vice versa his body still melted into a deep well of agony and as they finally coordinated their timings the strap moved down first to the gap between his thighs and buttocks and then to the thighs themselves; virgin punishment areas for George. Strangely enough, as the pain increased he became quieter and stiller; was it because Miss Anna was stroking his head with her free hand or because he had an inner joy at being able to present his gift of pain to Mistress?

Mistress and Miss Anna still missed the timing a few times, whether deliberately or not he would never know, and he must have had thirty strokes before Mistress announced that the twelve had been achieved, removed the shock collar and complimented him on his bruised, battered and glowing flesh.

“Nearly done now slave but here is your real test. Will you take my cane?” No thought was needed as he nodded and readied himself. It was a large brute of a cane not the small whippy one that he was used to and she whistled it past his ear before getting into position to beat him.

“Twelve strokes and I want you to remember that you are taking them for me” she said as Miss Anna cradled his head. Never had he known pain like it, “rods of iron” would be a poor metaphor, and it only increased as she moved to his thighs and then, with the last three strokes and incredible accuracy, she struck over the welts already raised. Gag or not his screams must have been heard in the other flats in the block and he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He was broken.

“It’s over now. You are forgiven” Mistress said as she and Miss Anna freed him, ungagged him and pushed him to the floor. “Thank Miss Anna”. He pressed his lips to her feet and thanked her for helping and then he moved over to Mistress now standing apart with her magnificent legs akimbo. He had to crawl from one foot to the other as he paid obeisance.

“What are you slave?”

“I am a pain slut”

“And?”

“I am your pain slut, Mistress”

“And?”

“I am your pain slut forever Mistress”

“Try again”

“I am your pain slut for as long as you want me Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

George had found himself.

This story is dedicated with respect and devotion to Modern Empress who commanded and inspired its writing.