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First Meeting with a Sadist, Continued
by Bette Jene Adams
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Thank you to those who sent comments about this story. I sincerely appreciate you reading it
and most importantly, I am grateful to you for taking the time to let me know your thoughts
and suggestions.
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Chapter 8
It’s time for action; time to put his house in order, tend to his business interests, and more
importantly, take back his life. He makes a list of what is needed to prepare his whore for
her new role. Her fate decided, everything seems to fall into place.
First and foremost, he is going to forever mark her as his property, and when in the vanilla
world, she will be his wife, whore, pain slut, anything he wants her to be at any given
moment. He will dominate her in all facets of her new life with him.
Second on his “Must Do” list is to schedule a videographer to record the two events, starting
with the BDSM Ceremony with a guest list featuring like-minded Masters and Mistresses.
And then the wedding ceremony with an invitation list of vanilla guests. The BDSM
ceremony will be held in the dungeons under the city streets and will occur a few weeks
before the wedding date. The vanilla ceremony will be held at the Rose Garden with close
friends and a minister.
The BDSM Master/Slave Ceremony
Wearing his marking ensures that she will always know who owns her and who controls the
quality of her life. All she has to do is serve him in all things which he desires. The brand is
her binding vow of complete servitude solely in service for his pleasures.
Watching her, you can see her body reacting to the terror – unable to grasp why this
procedure is necessary. She has no tattoos, no piercings, her body is unmarked. As she
attempts to pose these questions, a cock gag is fastened in her opened mouth, ending her
words mid-sentence.
Soft, haunting music filters into the cavern and the notes bounce from wall to wall creating
a disturbingly lingering reverberation that further shakes her. The melody is "Astraea's
Requiem," a dark brooding composition of chords that continuously swell and recede like an
ocean tide or a constant, pitiful wail of a life suffering unbearable pain.
She is bent and bound tightly to a barrel, and after checking her restraints one more time,
he lifts her face and talks directly to her, “You can never leave me. You are my property; I
own you. You live at my discretion. I will break you or kill you should you choose not to
cooperate with my plans for your future. I am enslaving you as my property and this is the
first step in your new life. Savor it.”
He nods and a gentleman open the heavy brocade curtains to reveal the fire pit. Flames
dance off the walls and create shadows in the corridors of the city’s dank underbelly. He
carefully picks up the iron and shows her the words that will forever mark her body.
Property of
Master Dansworthy
The letters are a brilliant fiery white hot. He whispers in her ear as someone lashes her
backside with a thick long-tendril flogger. Fast, hard blows are delivered with no discernible
pattern, no way to anticipate when or where the next strike will occur. His voice filters into
her subconscious.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
The blows with the flogger intensify in strength, force, and speed.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
The pain has exceeded anything she has experienced before; stronger and hotter with the
stinging of each tendril lasting well into the next several strikes.
"Feel the pain diminishing, the heat building a fire within your center."
His voice becomes louder but still too soft for her to discern what he is communicating; she
is in agony, screaming through her gag for him to have mercy.
"Feel the breeze of the whip as it approaches, connects, and retreats from your body."
The whipping ceases. The masked Master begins lightly snaking the heavy tendrils over her
pain-drenched flesh; slowing zigzagging from her shoulders to ankles, pressing the sting
deeply into every pore.
"Feel the kiss of each strand of leather as it licks your flesh."
She can feel the heat from the branding iron as it nears her flesh. The letters are a brilliant
fiery white hot with tiny sparks shooting in all directions.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
The branding iron closes in on her left buttock. The smell of sulfur spreads throughout the
dungeon and the tiny reddish blonde hairs on her body are singed.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
The branding iron is a hair's breath away from her skin. She can smell a charcoal-like odor
and hear the sizzling sound of her flesh giving way to the blistering heat.
"Take pride in the pain I give you, beg for more as you transform the painful red into the
passionate red you most desire. Visualize the beautiful erotic red in your minds-eye."
The branding iron presses deeply into her fatty layers. She can smell the odor of fatty pork
on a flaming gas grill as the brand progresses deeper into her tissue. She can only see red,
feel red, scream red, and her skin turns blood red beneath the branding iron.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
The odor of beef roasting in a frying pan permeates the room as the iron burns into her
muscle tissue. Screams spout from her as lava would from a ruptured volcano, piercing the
room, drowning the haunting chords of "Astraea's Requiem" that plays in the background.
The requiem seems to go on forever as her screams echo within the stone walls.
"Feel the passion growing stronger, juices flooding your cunt as your body reaches for more
pain. You are now my property and you will serve me with pride."
Droplets of sweat dribble onto the floor; tears soak her face; she is yanking, jerking, pulling
at her restraints when suddenly her eyes capture the dance of the flames in the fire pit. She
is hypnotized, imagining the flames licking her body, her eyes glazing over with passion, her
body desperate to be touched. Her nipples ooze milk; her clit fully engorged; and her pussy
aches for release.
"Breathe deeply and fill your lungs 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Hold it 1, 2, 3, 4, 5;
Exhale slowly through your mouth 1, 2, 3, 4, 5."
Fingers, more fingers press into her cunt, pressing into the g-spot. Her breasts are lifted
and each is suckled while strong fingers knead and massage them.
Whispering in her ear once again, he describes her new life. "Feel the passion blazing within
you, rotating like a Ferris wheel, moving in a large slow circular motion as your body
reaches for pleasure. You are comforted with the knowledge that you are my protected
property and that I and only I can give you pleasure or pain, life or death."
Fingers are tugging, pulling, twisting, and tweaking her clit, rolling it between the thumb
and forefinger. Fingers are invading her ass, pushing in, pulling out, and adding another
finger each time. Her passion is so strong, her need for sexual pleasure escalates until it
matches the orchestra as the harps outline the chords and the violins enter with a warm,
welcoming melody.
"Feel the explosion of your body as the universe aligns with your pleasure and takes you on
a magical journey into ecstasy. You will never want for anything if you serve me in every
way I wish to use you."
She is convulsing, shaking violently, thrusting wildly within her restraints as her orgasms
explode in rapid succession … pleasure oozes from every pore, drenching the leather
padding and barrel beneath her and pooling on the floor.
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