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Subject: Title story: "A Painful Lesson" Author: Incestor 57847073
From: Family Man <familyincest@graffiti.net>
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Date: Wed, 26 Oct 2005 17:00:33 +0000
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A Painful Lesson by Roke Damien shut the front door of the house behind him,
pausing in the entryway to listen for a moment. He smiled, satisfied to himself
at the silence by which he was meant. He set the mail, mostly bills, as usual,
on the table next to the front door and ran up the stairs two at a time,
loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket as he walked into the Master
bedroom. He threw the jacket and tie across the bed as he unbuttoned and peeled
off the light blue dress shirt, which he then wadded into a ball and tossed it
across the room, watching as it sailed perfectly into the open laundry hamper in
the corner. He kicked off his shoes as he undid his belt, allowing his suit
pants to slide down his legs to puddle on the floor at his feet. Bending to pick
them up, they too went on the bed with the jacket and tie. Then he removed his
boxers and socks, tossing them into the hamper in a wide arc just as he had the
shirt. One sock hung on the edge of the hamper, giving it the appearance of a
tongue lolling out of a wide open mouth. Damien slid open the door to his closet
and took down a pair of black jeans and a black cotton dress shirt. He walked
across around the end of the bed to the large oak dresser, sliding open the top
drawer, and took out a pair of white socks, then back around to the side of the
bed nearest the closet. He picked up the black jeans and stepped into them,
leaving the fly unbuttoned as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his
socks. Stretching his body and arms forward, he managed to grab the black boots
sitting just inside the closet door with his fingertips, and pull them to him.
He slid his feet into them, and stood, the black shirt in his left hand. As
Damien slipped on the shirt and began buttoning it up, he let his mind drift,
thinking about the events he had planned for the evening. As he rolled up the
left sleeve of his shirt to just below his elbow, he glanced at his watch. Six-
fifteen. His guest would arrive in another forty-five minutes. Damien grinned at
the thought of coming events, tucking in the tails of the shirt and fastening
the button-fly of the jeans. He filled his pockets with the normal mundane items
of life, then took the wide black leather belt down from its hook, threading it
through the loops of his jeans as he walked out of the room and down the stairs.
Damien paused at the bottom of the stairs, catching sight of his reflection in
the full-length mirror next to the front door. Straight black hair, receding in
the front, coming to a widow's peak in the center and just beginning to gray at
the temples. Ice-blue eyes under dark, heavy brows. A military mustache, also
touched with gray, under a long, aquiline nose. Five feet eleven inches, one
hundred and ninety-five pounds of lean muscle. He smoothed down the front of the
black shirt and walked into the kitchen. Damien filled a bucket with ice from
the freezer and walked to the basement door, fishing the key out of his pocket.
He unlocked the door and headed down the steps, hearing the sound of chains
dragging across concrete as he descended. He flipped on the light switch at the
bottom of the stairs and smiled at her. Rebecca kneeled on the hard concrete
floor, completely nude except for the leather collar locked around her neck. A
heavy chain had been attached to the collar, the other end attached to a hook in
the wall, to keep her from roaming more than six feet. The bathroom door stood
open next to her, and he could see that her long golden hair was still wet from
her bath. "Greetings Master." She said, her eyes lowered in respect, hands
resting palms up on her thighs. "Your unworthy slut welcomes you home, and
awaits the continuation of her punishment." Damien sat the ice-bucket on the
bar, then walked past her, into the bathroom. As he stepped through the door,
the motion detector caused the lights to flicker on. He'd installed it to make
sure she couldn't provide light for herself from the bathroom while she was
being punished. The only time the lights came on was when someone was in the
cubicle. The rest of the time, she was to remain in the dark, chained to the
wall. It was designed to give her time to think about her transgressions. Damien
bent down and reached across the tub, picking up the enema bag, feeling it to
ensure it had been recently used. The scent of Rebecca's perfumed bath oils
wafted up to him. He straightened the damp towel left to dry on the rack and
walked back out of the bathroom. The lights remained on, timed to go out after
two minutes of no detected motion. He took a folding chair and placed it in
front of her, with the back to her, then straddled it, resting his arms on the
back and looking down at her. His eyes drank in her waist length golden hair,
her kneeling five foot seven inch frame, her perky 34C breasts with the golden
rings through her dark pink nipples. He let his eyes move down her body, to the
smooth waxed area between her thighs. He saw the puffy pink lips of her cunt,
and the glint from the overhead light off the gold ring through her clit as it
peaked from beneath its hood. "Look at Me." He commanded. Rebecca immediately
raised her head, her dark green eyes, under perfectly sculpted golden brows,
looking into his ice-blue ones. He could tell she'd spent a good part of the day
crying. Her full lower lip quivered slightly as he studied her. "Did you prepare
yourself as instructed, slut?" "Yes Master. Your slut administered an enema to
herself, after which she bathed, washed her hair, and waxed her legs and Your
cunt, just as You had instructed, Master." He smiled at her choice of words, and
noticed the barest hint of a smile play at the corners of her mouth. "Do you
understand why you are being punished, slave?" He asked her quietly. "Because I
have displeased you, Master." Came her soft reply. "But do you know how you
displeased Me? Do you understand what you did that warranted punishment? It's
important for you to understand, slave." He watched as a line formed between her
brows and she frowned thoughtfully, unconsciously drawing her lower lip between
her front teeth and chewing on it. "This girl is not certain what she did,
Master, is only certain that she displeased you." Damien sighed and stood up. He
walked over to the bar and used the tongs to drop three ice-cubes into a double
old-fashioned glass. Then he grabbed the bottle of Seagram's 7 and poured a
double shot over the ice. He reached under the bar and drew out a can of 7-Up,
popping the top of it and pouring it into the glass until it was full. He
stirred his drink with a plastic stirrer, then walked back over to the chair,
turning it around and sitting down on it, stretching out his legs towards her
and crossing them at the ankles. Damien sat and sipped his drink for a moment,
looking down at her. She kept her eyes lowered in respect, waiting for him to
break the silence. "How long have you been with Me, slave?" He asked after what
seemed an eternity. The sound of his voice after the silence which preceded it
caused her to jump. "Six month, two weeks and four days today, Master." She
answered. "And are you happy here with Me, slave?" "Yes Master. A girl is very
happy. Your slave loves You Master." "I know that you love Me. And I love you."
He told her, watching her face closely. He saw the slight flinch as she heard
him speak of his feelings for her, and saw the moment of panic in her eyes as
they quickly flickered up to meet his, before lowering again in respect. "That
is why you are being punished, slave. I know you have issues. I know you were
abused, physically and emotionally, as a child. I know that you were abused,
physically and emotionally, by both of your previous Masters. But you are Mine
now. I need you to accept the love I offer you, slave." "Yes Master." She
whispered. "Don't just 'yes Master' Me." He snapped, his voice rising as he
stood, causing her to jump again. "You are a painslut. You enjoy it when I beat
you, don't you?" "Yes Master." "You enjoy it when I drip candle wax and use ice
on your nipples and clit?" "Yes Master." "You enjoy it when I'm rough with you,
when I bite you, when I pull your hair?" "Ohhhhhyes Master." She breathed. He
could see between her spread thighs that her cunt lips had swollen and were
beginning to glisten with her dew. Damien took a step towards her and crouched
down, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head sharply upwards, his
gaze boring into her. He could see the tears welling up in the corners of her
eyes. "You are perfectly happy to be the slave to the Beast within Me, and yet
you fear the Man that is also within Me. Master is not just one or the other.
Why do you fear My love?" Rebecca burst into tears, the moisture that had formed
in her eyes spilling over and running down her rosy cheeks. "Because the people
that love Me always leave Me!" She sobbed. Damien remained crouched there,
looking at her for a moment, trying to think of something to say. He was snapped
out of his reverie by the sound of the doorbell. He stood, releasing her hair
roughly and letting her head drop forward. "I'll be right back, slut. We have a
guest tonight." Without watching for her reaction to this last bit of news, he
turned and walked back up the stairs, out of the cellar, and to the front door.
Damien pulled open the front door and saw, standing on the porch, a man about
five foot eight inches tall, 215 pounds, with thinning sandy brown hair and close-
set, almost piggish brown eyes. The lower half of his round face was adorned by
a graying mustache and goatee, and when he smiled, he revealed a mouthful of
crooked, tobacco stained teeth. Like Damien, he was dressed all in black,
consisting of black leather jeans, a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt, a black
leather jacket, and black motorcycle boots. He had over his shoulder a pair of
black motorcycle saddle bags, with the Harley-Davidson logo worked into the
leather. Over the mans shoulder, Damien could see the black and chrome
motorcycle sitting parked in the driveway behind Damien's black Bronco. "Glad
you could make it, Ike." Damien said, holding out his hand. The man on the porch
took the proffered hand and squeezed it in a bone-crushing grip, pumping it
vigorously a few times. "My pleasure, man. Or at least it will be." Ike chuckled
as he looked around. "Where is my victim?" Damien took Ike by the arm and
steered him towards the basement door. "I have her down stairs in the basement,
chained up. She's been down there since yesterday afternoon. I have it
completely sound proofed, and most of the time I've had her in the dark. Giving
her time to think." "Sound proofed, huh?" Commented Ike, heading down the stairs
after Damien. "That'll come in handy tonight." "It often does." Damien said,
turning to grin at Ike as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He waved his
hand in the direction of Rebecca, still kneeling chained where he had left her.
"Ike, this is My slave. You can just call her slutor whoreor cunt. Whatever's
convenient." He walked over and grabbed a fistful of Rebecca's hair and jerked
her head up so she could see Ike. "Slut, this is Ike, but you can just call Him
Master." "M-Master?" She repeated, a look of terror in her eyes. "Yes, Master."
Damien told her, releasing his grip and moving the chair back by the bar. He sat
down on it and crossed His legs to watch. "I'm giving you to Ike, to do with
what He pleases. He is your Master, you are His slut. Understand?" Rebecca
gulped, then nodded her head slowly. Ike drew back his hand and slapped her
sharply across her left cheek. "Who am I cunt?" He roared. "Master." Came
Rebecca's hasty reply, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth.
"And what are you?" Ike demanded, hand raised for another blow. "Slave,
Masterthis girl is a slave." Ike smacked her again, causing her head to snap to
one side. "Whose slave?" He prompted. Rebecca swallowed hard, her mind trying to
figure out what had happened. Her Master had told her He loved herthen given her
to another? How could this have happened? Was she truly that unworthy? She tried
to form the words she knew Ike was waiting to hear. He raised his hand again.
"Your slave, Master. This unworthy whore is Your slave." She choked out quickly.
Ike smiled and lowered his hand, taking a step closer to inspect the chain
attached to the collar. He found the lock, and turned to face Damien. Damien
fished the key to the lock out of his pocket and tossed it to Ike. "Sorry about
that." He said. "Almost forgot." Ike caught the key and unlocked the chain,
letting it drop with a heavy clank to the concrete floor. Then he buried his
hands in golden hair and yanked her roughly to her feet, pulling her around to
face him, so his face was only an inch from hers. Rebecca could smell cigarettes
and beer on his breath as he studied her face. Then he turned her around again
and shoved her across the basement, towards the stocks her Master had built. He
placed her head and hands in the spaces provided, then slid the top half of the
stocks into place, locking her into position. The stocks were only about three
feet high, causing her to bend at the waist, her ass raised behind her. She had
been in the stocks many times, since her Master (former Master, screamed a part
of her brain) loved to cane her ass when she was locked in them. She was
terrified at the thought of what this man (My Master, screamed that part of her
brain) might do to her. Ike took the beam propped against the wall behind the
stocks and walked behind her, pressing it between her legs and sliding it into
the slot built to hold it securely. The beam was positioned so that it caused
Rebecca to rise up on her toes, with the padded end of the beam resting just
under her cunt, leaving her ass completely exposed. Ike walked around the
stocks, looking over Rebecca, occasionally reaching out his hand to caress her
ass or to pinch her nipple, inspecting her. He reached under her, his hand
resting on the beam, and stroked her cunt, fingers finding the ring through her
clit and tugging sharply on it. Then he walked over to where he had dropped his
saddlebags and picked them up. "Low ceiling in here, but I think I can still get
enough clearance for the six footer." He told Damien, taking a bullwhip from one
of the pouches. He uncoiled the whip and snapped it a few times, getting the
feel for it, then took his position directly behind Rebecca. Ike raised the whip
to the level of his head, his arm cocked back so the whip dropped down behind
him. Rebecca bit on her lower lip, waiting for her punishment to begin. She
heard the whip whistling through the air as Ike sent his arm hurling forward,
then felt the sharp sting as it bit deeply into the soft flesh of her ass. She
bit her lip harder to keep from crying out. Ike drew back the whip and sent it
whistling forward againand againand again. He gave her twenty lashes across her
ass, until the flesh was bright crimson and criss-crossed with bleeding welts,
then redirected his attention to her shoulders, giving her ten lashes across
each. Rebecca continued biting her lip until it bled as the whipping continued,
then began whimpering softly, tears running down her cheeks. By the time Ike had
delivered the tenth lash to her ass she was screaming with each kiss of the
whip. By the time he had finished with her ass and moved to her shoulders, she
had stopped screaming and was moaning continuously. Damien stood up from the
chair, and walked over in front of the stocks, grabbing a handful of Rebecca's
now sweat-dampened hair and yanking her face up to his. "Did you enjoy that,
slave?" He asked. "No Master." She whispered hoarsely. "I'm not your Master. He
is. Call Me Sir." Rebecca blinked, then croaked out "No Sirthis slave did not
enjoy that." "Did it hurt?" He asked her. "Yes MSir." "Thought you enjoyed pain,
whore." He said, releasing his grip and letting her head drop again. He looked
across the stocks at Ike behind her, grinning, and winked. Damien went to the
bar and fixed himself another 77 as Ike retrieved the saddlebags and reached
inside the other pouch. Ike walked to the front of the stocks and opened his
hand, showing her the box-clamps on his palm. Then he moved to the side,
reaching under her, and positioned the first box clamp over her left nipple. He
tightened it down until he heard her gaspthen gave the screw another half-twist
for good measure. He left the other clamp, attached to the first by a chain,
sitting on the beam as he walked around behind her and to her right side. Then
he retrieved the clamp, strung the chain under the beam, and repeated the action
on her right nipple. With the chain pulled taut under the beam, each time she
moved it caused the clamps to tug painfully on her swollen nipples. Ike walked
to the front of the stocks again, and unzipped the fly of his leather jeans,
letting her see his swollen cock. It was at least nine inches long, and as big
around as her wrist. Rebecca began to panic, wondering how she was going to
swallow that thing if he wished to fuck her face. Ike looked over at Damien, who
had reclaimed his seat on the folding chair. "Ever fuck this whore's ass?" He
asked. "Yes, many times." Damien affirmed. "Nice and tight?" Ike queried. "Oh,
yesshe has quite a wonderful ass. And she loves having a hard cock in it." Ike
looked down at Rebecca, who was now clearly terrified by the line of questioning
this manher Masterand her former Master were pursuing. Their exchange seemed so
casual, as if they were discussing a car or motorcycle. Or an animal, she
thought. That's all I am. An animal. Property. "Always use lube?" Ike asked
Damien. Damien shrugged. "More or less." He answered. "Sometimes I'd use
astroglide, other times I'd just fuck her cunt first and get My cock nice and
slick." Ike grinned evilly and looked down at Rebecca. She quickly lowered her
eyes, but not before he saw the terror there. "I'm going to dry-fuck her ass."
He said matter-of-factly, and began moving around the stocks to take position
behind her. "Noplease." Rebecca moaned softly. Ike smacked her right asscheek,
fingers catching the welts from the whip. "What did you say, cunt?" "No
Masterplease don't dry fuck My ass." She babbled. Rebecca had worried that He
was going to make her suck that thick cocknow He was talking about shoving it in
her ass with no lubrication. He'd split her in two! "My ass!" Snapped Ike,
taking her buttocks in his hands and spreading them apart roughly. He moved
forward so the swollen head of His cock pressed against the puckered rosebud of
her anus. With a growl he thrust his hips forwarddriving a quarter of his cock
into her. Rebecca screamed as he thrust into her, feeling her sphincter stretch,
certain she was being torn apart. Ike remained inside of her for a moment, then
stroked slowly back, so just the head remained within her. Then he thrust again,
this time driving half his cock into her. Each thrust into her caused her body
to jerk, pulling on the chain connecting the clamps tightly biting into her
nipples. Each thrust into her felt like a red hot poker the width of a telephone
pole being shoved deep inside her ass. Each time Ike stroked back, she prayed
that he would have mercy and stop. And each time he thrust forward again,
driving more of his monster cock into her, causing the chain to tug painfully at
her nipples. The weight of his body fucking her ass pressed her pierced clit
against the padded edge of the beam, causing the gold ring to cut into her
tender skin. Ike continued thrusting in and out of Rebecca's tight ass, feeling
the muscles protest, then finally surrender to his invasion, until he finally
managed to shove his entire length into her. His body pressed against the still
bleeding welts across the cheeks of her ass, his hands holding firmly to her
hips, enjoying the feeling of her body tightly squeezing His cock. He knew he
couldn't hold out much longer.
End
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