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Subject: Story- From fantasy to reality- conclusion
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===================
Chapter 18
I couldn't help thinking that no matter how resilient my body
and mind were, there was little chance I could survive years and years of
this kind of nearly daily abuse. Would I want to if I could. This wasn't
what I had in mind when I decided to spend the rest of my life owned by a
DOM or Dominatrix. Mistress had her act together. My life with her would
have been that of a sissy slave, much as I had dreamed. Plenty of pain,
yes, but nothing like this. With Mistress it was more of a sensual pain.
And forced humiliation through forced homosexual acts and degrading
situations such as the toilet games and servicing Butch. Life with
Mistress was much like the stories I had read. Maybe a little more
intense, but nothing worse than the things I might have expected.
But Pete was just a mean, sadistic bastard. He reveled in
causing as much pain as possible and couldn't get enough. He was truly a
sick man. A slave voluntarily subjected themselves to the whims of their
owners, but few would have expected to fear for their lives and/ or their
limbs.
I decided to try, even if the consequences were death, to
escape. Death couldn't be far down the road with Pete, anyways. When Pete
opened the door tomorrow I'd be ready for him. Maybe this would be
futile, but a slim chance was better than what I now faced. I knew I'd
probably never attain my dreams after this. But I'd be alive.
Pete came home Wednesday in a great mood, probably thinking of
our upcoming session as he sang aloud while walking towards the door to
the dungeon. As he swung the door open I pounced, landing a solid punch
to his jaw. He fell back against the wall and I sprinted down the hall.
Damn, another door, and it was locked. I ran back to the room
to get the keys from Pete's pocket. Pete was heading out the door, gun in
hand. My fate was sealed because I didn't make sure he was out cold. My
heart sank and I fell to the floor. Pete kicked me square in the face.
You worthless, ungrateful piece of shit. I should have known better than
to trust you from the start. You're no better than Cindy. Promising to be
a good slave while planning my demise when I wasn't looking.
Please Master, I'm sorry. Do your worst to me. I'll make it up
to you.
You're damn right you will slave. Now get on the table and
attach your ankle cuffs and one of the wrist cuffs while I hold the gun.
Satisfied with my security he laid the gun down and secured my other
wrist. You will pay dearly for your actions slave and left the room.
When he returned he placed a few items on the counter and
walked over, stopping next to my head. I can't believe it. Two days, just
two days and you rebel against me. It took Cindy 2 weeks before the first
sign she wouldn't fully co-operate. And she had had no training. You have
caused me to waste a large sum of money. And you my dear slave have
wasted your life. In the next couple of days you will receive a months
worth of torture. YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE. I'll return after I eat and deal
with you.
It seemed like hours, but Pete returned. He had his Pit Bull
in tow and told "Sarge" to lie in the corner. Sarge will probably enjoy
tonight as much as I do, Pete snickered.
Master went to the counter and retrieved the unseen propane
torch he had obviously brought in before and lit it. He went around my
body giving little hits here and there with the flame. Just testing he
said. Let's begin cooking Sarge's dinner. I had no idea what he meant by
that, but felt sure I'd find out soon. Pete released the hold on my right
hand and put my thumb in the vice, tightening it down. Slowly my thumb
started to warm up. Look over here, slave. Pete was holding the flame to
the head of the screw sticking out of my thumb. And now my thumb was
really feeling the heat. It started to hurt like hell. Patience, my
slave. I'm cooking Sarge's dinner. He loves meat, but not burnt or
crispy. I'm cooking your thumb from the inside out. When the skin starts
to blister it will be done to perfection. It wasn't long before I was
screaming my lungs out, and mercifully passed out. Pete, of course would
have none of that. He quickly revived me every time I went out. You can't
miss this slave. You are Sarge's guest for dinner and must enjoy the
show. I'll bet if you ask nicely, he''ll share a finger or two with you.
Aaah, looks like the first one is done. Let's see, where is my
saw. He found an old rusty hack saw in the corner. Better not watch too
closely, slave. You might get some blood in your eyes. With my thumb
totally secure in the vice, he slowly sawed my thumb off. Blood went
everywhere. Picking up the torch he ran the flame over the stub of a
thumb that was left and cauterized the wound. There, no more bleeding.
Can't have you bleeding to death when this is so much fun. Removing the
screw from the end of my severed thumb he tossed my thumb to Sarge and it
disappeared in his mouth. Now Sarge, you know you might choke if you
don't chew your food thoroughly, and try to spit the bones out, he
laughed. OK, time for the next one. For the next hour, I was literally
being cooked alive. When he had finished Pete released my wrists to let
me see the results. On the end of each of my fingers was a little burnt
stub. Such a shame, slave. They were so pretty with polish on them. Oh
well. Your loss was Sarge's gain. He loved them.
And now for your toes. Guess I won't have to bother removing
the toenails. There's too little meat on them for Sarge to bother. I
won't even put you through the cooking process. They can be removed just
like that. He picked up the saw and torch and headed towards my feet.
I'm sorry slave, Pete said. I almost overlooked the main course
for Sarge. Of course it's your cock. Surprised? No probably not. He went
and got a six inch long screw and his screwdriver. And right down the
center of my cock he turned and turned the screw till maybe an inch stuck
out This is the end I thought, as I drifted in and out. Not much
screaming anymore as I was nearly hoarse. I doubt I could relieve myself
now. If somehow, through a miracle intervention from above, I was to
live through this, I wouldn't want to . Back to that after we rid you of
your toes, my slave. Having fun yet? I sure am. As pain goes losing my
toes weren't as bad as some things I'd endured. Then again, maybe my
senses were going numb to the pain. Pete finished with the toes and moved
back up to my cock. What do you think slave? Could you ever have
imagined having your cock cooked from the inside out, cut off and fed to
a dog? Probably not. I'm pretty sadistic but just thought of feeding you
to Sarge during my dinner. I was about to open a can of dog food when
the idea hit me. No comment, slave? Just one, Pete. I said that with
emphasis on Pete rather than master. Fuck you, and remember. You paid
100K for just 3 days worth of abuse to me. And now you are slave-less
once again. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. Pete was enraged. He left
and got a needle and thread. That's the last I'll hear from you and
proceeded to start to sew my mouth shut. Before finishing he removed my
well cooked cock, looked at Sarge and said "sorry boy", and stuffed it in
my mouth. My eyes were wide open, but I had passed out for the last time.
I never knew it happened.
The End
P.S. As this is my first attempt at publishing a story, I encourage
comments on content and style. Thanks to all that have read the story
through.