Rule of Thumb Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Rule of Thumb Pt. 01

... her suffering, watching it seduce the sadists he knew she craved. Seeing first-hand what he'd made of her.

She knew it pleased him deeply to watch pleasure overwhelm her reason; when being used as a pain toy for their enjoyment sent her spiraling into a mindless animalistic state of arousal. He had made her a slut, cultivated her submission, and all but demanded that she embrace her innate craving for intense objectification and sexual pain. He'd systematically eradicated the social constraints that, before him, had restricted her pursuit of the violent murky cravings she'd been largely unable to even imagine, much less seek out. The negative self-talk, the hindering, unspoken assertions that "real life" should hold greater priority than surrendering day after day to the carnal oblivion he arranged for her. He'd burned all those mundane evasions from her and had forced her to confront the truth of her nature.

He praised her abandon; made clear from deft remarks that he watched; that he appreciated the increasing frequency and intensity of the times she abandoned herself to the depravity he desired from her. Sometimes she quailed within his embrace of her unique carnality. But she fed on his obvious arousal. He took her with his deepest passion after those times she most utterly surrendered to the twisted sexual alchemy of being tortured and rutted by complete strangers. Her body marked, stanger-cum dripping from her holes, he took her. She didn't know what it was in ...

... her psyche that craved that self-negating form of erotic domination but it didn't matter. It was there. Richard had found it; pinned her depravity like a butterfly for his inspection. He'd mounted an irresistible campaign of desensitization and personality modification that eventually broke her resistance; compelled her to embrace it wholly and joyously as the central theme of her existence. Now her highest priority was being His slut and pain toy.

For him, for her Master, she'd slipped the bonds of sexual negation, propriety and fidelity. She'd surrendered irretrievably. Shame had been burned from her in the erotic cauldron into which she'd been cast by her Husband. She'd been freed of physical, financial and emotional hindrance to revel in her base needs and compulsions. There might be more noble pursuits but few people were blessed, she believed, with the purity of her purpose: to claim her erotic nature and serve it bleeding and sated at her Master's feet.

Kay groaned as the leather strap wrapped around her ribs; laid welts onto the side of her needle studded tits and her torso and belly. Jeremy worked one side and then the other, admiring the broad red stripes that began covering her entire upper body. Eventually Kay broke, sobbing. Unable to keep her arms locked any longer, she rested her chest on the floor; stretched her arms above her head in a provocative, deeply submissive pose. Her chest mashed against the needles still lodged in her nipples and the well hung ...