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Subject: {ASSM} The Pear (Maureen Lycaon) [Fdom/m, M/m, cons, extreme pain, anal, sm, bond]
Date: Mon, 5 Jun 2000 00:10:13 -0400
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THE PEAR
@Copyright Maureen Lycaon, May 2000. May be distributed
freely via electronic means provided no money or other
consideration is charged and that the story remains intact
as posted, including these notes and the headers.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a *very extreme* fantasy, even if
it sounds realistic. In point of fact, you'd be crazy to
use anything like this device in real-life BDSM play --
you'd most likely kill your partner.
Unfortunately, the pear was a very real torture device used
by the arbiters of morality to ferret out "witches" during
the early Renaissance witch hunts.
Yep, Kerry Black, as he calls himself, is a Satanist. No,
the Mistress here is not. Their relationship verges on hate
at times: it's a complex one, with much more background
than is shown in this one story.
THE PEAR
At my order, big Kargoth lowered the singletail and stepped
back. Kerry Black leaned -- no, better, sagged -- against
the leather-padded whipping post, breathing heavily,
loudly.
His arms were stretched over his head, the leather wrist
cuffs chained to the metal ring at the top. His
whipstreaked back glistened with sweat wherever his long,
curly brown hair didn't cover it. Candlelight flickered off
the little gold reversed crucifix dangling at his throat.
The air of the "dungeon" room reeked with smells that told
a story: the tangy-sour scent of fear, the sharp musk of
the anger that was so much a part of his psyche, the more
subtle musk of masculine arousal with its hints of semen.
And, of course, leather, and the faint burning-paraffin
odor of more than a dozen candles set in iron sconces
around the room, casting their golden light on his compact,
muscular body.
I savored those smells, savored the sight of his body in
the flickering light. Kerry's head was half-hidden by his
long hair at the moment, but then he lifted it slightly,
turning to me to glare once again. He didn't bother to
glance down at my breasts.
*You can't break me*, that look said. *You haven't even
*hurt* me yet.*
He'd just taken a hundred lashes, half of them with the
singletail. It would have been an extremely severe whipping
for anyone else. For Kerry, it was barely out of the
parking lot.
I looked back at that blunt, brutal face with its heavy
brows and deep, dark eyes, at Kerry's anger no longer
sullen but fully aroused and flaring -- like his penis,
rock-hard in spite of the pain he'd just endured.
If I didn't break him, or at least impress him, I'd lose
his respect.
I wasn't worried.
"Like that?" I said, smiling blatantly into his face.
"Well, it gets better. I've got a little surprise for you."
I went back to the dresser in the corner of the room,
opened the top drawer, and pulled out the little wood-and-
metal object. When I returned to his side, I held it up to
his face as he leaned against the whipping post.
Kerry shook the hair out of his sweaty face to get a better
look (and more candlelight flickered off that reversed
crucifix), and then his jaw went slack, dark eyes widening.
He recognized it, all right.
"No way!" he said, his gravelly voice hardly more than a
husky whisper. "No --" And then he turned his face away.
I grinned. This time I'd really rocked him.
"Come on," I challenged. "Take a look. It took me a lot of
trouble to have this made, just for you, because I don't
know any other sub who could take it."
Kerry can't resist a challenge to his pride. Reluctantly,
he turned his head again to get a closer look.
The pear was one of the most vicious devices in the arsenal
of medieval and Renaissance torturers, which was why he
recognized it. Perhaps even had an encounter with it in
some forgotten or not-so-forgotten past life. This one
wasn't that old; I'd had it custom-made, out of polished
wood instead of metal.
It looked like a wooden pear, only three inches wide at the
widest part, with a little metal crank where the stem would
be on a real pear.
I demonstrated its workings, turning the little crank to
open it up. The four beautifully dovetailed 'quarters' of
the pear opened up, widening like vise jaws in reverse, to
their maximum width as I kept cranking - about five inches,
as big as a large fist.
The original versions would have been bigger - big enough
that, when used, they usually killed the victim.
Kerry clamped his jaw again, his face turning a shade
paler. Kargoth laughed - mockingly, cruelly, white teeth
gleaming in his dark face.
I waited tensely for a safeword. None came. Instead, he
lowered his head again, giving me an ever-so-little
headshake, and I heard a muttered "Fuck."
"Let's get him over the padded bench again," I said to
Kargoth, who grinned and stepped forward.
Later: bent over the bench, he was an even better target,
his muscular ass offered up invitingly. Kargoth used him a
second time, fucking him slow but hard, making it hurt as
much as possible. Kerry clenched at the stout bench legs,
at the chains holding his wrists to them. His head was up,
his brutal face almost beautiful, transfigured by mingled
pain and passion, now gritting his teeth, now open-mouthed
and moaning -- not with pleading but with pleasure.
Toward the end he was actually thrusting back, making the
bench squeak, grinding his ass into Kargoth's pelvis. I had
to squat down to see his penis, now harder than ever as
Kargoth fucked him. He couldn't quite rub it against the
padding, but it looked like it was dripping precum.
Kargoth came inside him, throwing his head back and
grimacing with ecstasy. He stood there a few moments
relaxing, while Kerry slumped with mingled relief and
disappointment over the bench, before he stepped back to
leave him once again.
I went over, squatted down and examined Kerry's puckered
little anus. After two fuckings already, not to mention a
session with my largest strapon, it was swollen, still
slightly open and leaking Kargoth's cum in a sticky stream
down the cleft.
He was ready for a bigger caliber.
I rose and got the pear again. As I approached, I was
rewarded with the sight of his hard muscles tensing up. I
held the toy up before his eyes once more; he stared
bravely at it, but I could smell his fear.
The tension between us was electric; he was aroused,
terrified -- and very genuinely angry, as he so often is
during our sessions. I gave him my best predatory mocking
smile, looking into his eyes.
"You -- fucking -- bitch," he gritted.
I let my smirk get broader, and then I walked around the
bench to his other end.
I'd greased the pear, of course. Kargoth held his buttocks
open as I pressed the bulb against that hard-used,
quivering anus and slowly pushed.
Kerry's body shuddered all over. Having to take that
terrible thing into his anus was probably the hardest thing
he'd ever had to do under my command, but he'd be damned if
he'd safeword.
Slowly, slowly, the ring of the anus stretched around the
three-inch bulb, helplessly accepting it.
I don't know how long it took for me to get it all inside
him. Maybe five minutes, maybe ten, as I pushed it little
by little, never letting up the pressure except when I
paused to let his rectum adjust. He writhed slowly on the
bench as Kargoth held his ass wide open, muscles standing
out in relief, shaking his head, his entire body rigid.
As the widest part of the bulb entered his tortured
asshole, he actually groaned despite himself, "No . . . no
. . ."
"I do not hear a safeword," I told him. "Do I hear a
safeword?"
"Nope, no safeword," said Kargoth, grinning from ear to
ear.
"Shit . . . *Damn* you, bitch!"
Once the bulb was in, the rest followed easily. At last the
whole torture device was buried in him, up to the little
'stem' end with its crank.
His life was in my hands. It would be so easy to go too far
. . . . And his agony, too, was in my hands. That's what
really got me going! I could inflict as much as I wanted,
as long as I wanted.
I eyed his taut, sweating body. I couldn't see his face,
only his shaggy dark hair, but I knew already he was in
Purgatory. I considered my choices: take him to Hell right
now, or taunt and tease him with the agonizing
anticipation?
I opted for a few moments of teasing, nudging the pear,
playing with it as it protruded from his asshole. His
entire body writhed slowly, unable to remain still, but he
didn't make a sound, except for the hiss of his explosively
released breath. He wouldn't give me his cries yet.
Kargoth squatted on his haunches in front of Kerry. His
black face was split in a wide, white, cruel grin as he
watched Kerry's face. But I knew pretty much what he was
seeing: Kerry's teeth gritted, jaw muscles trembling with
the strain, his face twisted in utter agony.
And then I began cranking the pear open, as slowly as
possible. I braced the protruding end with the fingers of
my left hand and gave the crank a slow turn with my right -
- it expanded maybe an eighth of an inch with each full
crank. One full turn . . . another . . . Even before I
finished the third turn, Kerry was shaking uncontrollably,
and once again his exhalation was a hissing whimper.
I paused, my hands poised on the pear. "Want to safeword?"
He shook his head angrily, sending sweat flying from his
drenched hair. More sweat was literally running in rivulets
onto the leather of the bench, every muscle was quivering,
the agony had to be excruciating -- and he would *not*
safeword. I gave the crank another turn and stepped back to
watch again.
We watched for fully a minute as he writhed on the bench,
body jerking, fists clenching. His erection was down to
half-mast. Not even Kerry can eroticize that much agony,
even though he needs desperately to feel it.
Then I stepped forward again. This time I tried just a half
turn.
I couldn't have gotten a more powerful reaction if I'd run
a jolt of electricity through him. His scream of pain
punished my ears as he lost control, and his entire body
spasmed and arched on the bench, one big hard tight muscle.
The crank was torn from my grasp and I pulled back my hands
as his hips wrenched away from me, his body trying wildly
to escape my torture even as his mind refused to safeword.
Kargoth's eyes glittered with delight as he watched, and I
wondered if mine did, too. His erection was at full mast,
practically slapping against his belly as Kerry writhed on
the bench, his scream dropping to a strained, involuntary
whimper. Finally Kerry took a hissing intake of breath,
teeth bared, his whole body shaking as he regained control.
I watched in awe. I honestly hadn't thought he'd be able to
stop screaming. But then I crouched down again to continue.
Kargoth stepped around to seize his hips as my hands once
again went to his ass -- and the gracelessly protruding
crank.
Another turn -- same thing. Once again I got only one
scream, and no safeword. Sweat dripped off the bench onto
the concrete floor.
Another turn. Another . . . more . . .
And finally, with the pear opened to more than four inches
wide inside his rectum, Kerry arched and threw back his
head again, screamed more loudly than ever -- and then
slumped in total collapse.
I let go of the crank, straightened up and went over to his
head, brushing his hair back to get a look at his face. He
was out cold, in a dead faint, eyes closed, face slack.
I glanced over to Kargoth, who shrugged and looked
disappointed. As for me, I was almost relieved.
I padded back to Kerry's hindquarters. On a sudden thought,
I pushed a hand in between his groin and the padding -- he
was lying belly-flat to the bench now. It came away
drenched, but I wasn't sure whether it was semen or just
sweat. He'd really soaked the bench during his agonies.
I cranked the pear back closed again and gently withdrew it
from his tortured anus. There was no bleeding, but it
remained half-open in a gentle pout, swollen and a bit
reddened.
Only as Kargoth and I unchained him, half-dragging his
unconscious form off the bench, did I finally see that
there was indeed a big splotch of thick, translucent semen
on the wetly shining cover, dripping down to the floor.
Somehow, he'd managed to come while half-hard.
Kerry came around with his usual speed a few minutes later
on the nearby sofa. He shook his head, blinking his eyes as
we watched. Then his hand went down to his crotch, feeling
his now-limp penis -- and he cursed savagely and glowered
up at me, taking his gleaming-wet hand away again.
"You cunt! You fucked up! I should have been awake to enjoy
that!"
I smiled a snake's smile right back at him. "Is it my fault
you couldn't take it? You're the one who passed out cold."
Kargoth laughed.
Kerry glared at each of us in turn, then finally sighed and
gave up.
"All right," he growled. "But I want another chance to come
later."
I wordlessly padded over to the small fridge, brought out a
bottle of beer and opened it. I smiled as I walked over to
his side, squatted down and offered the bottle to him.
"You got it."
Direct comments and criticism to:
maureen_lcn@nospam.dammit.yahoo.com . Remove obvious
spamblock.
More stories on my archive at:
http://velar.ctrl-c.liu.se/vcl/Authors/Maureen/
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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