Meeting a Sadist

Meeting a SadistMaster is at work awaiting his new girl’s arrival at the motel. As instructed, she sent him a message with her room number as soon as she checked in and put the spare key card under the mat outside the door. He smiles as he mentally runs through everything he is going to do with her and to her.

Just thinking of meeting him has her cunt wet and slippery. She unpacks everything, organizing her BDSM gear so that all is accessible for her Master sadist. She has never shown anyone her entire collection; too embarrassing to even consider. But, her Master issued a command to bring everything to the hotel and lay it out for him. She looks at the small but impressive array of items. “What will he think of me after looking at this stuff?” she wonders.

She takes note at the many dildos that are way too huge for her body and considers hiding them. She has never been able to fit them into either of her holes, the pain was too intense. She fears that her sadistic Master will force those objects in her for the first of many times if he sees them.

Her tits throb as she connects the IV setup so he can super-size her breasts the way he likes them. She can imagine the “pin prick” as he inserts the IV catheter needles into her tit meat, and the sensations as the cold drops of saline begin to fill her breasts. She dreads it when he slaps her saline-engorged tits, slamming them into each other; the pain is a thousand times more intense. She lays out the breast pumps and connects the power cables but secretly hopes he will not make her pump. The pumps shape her nipples thick and long and wide making them extremely painful to be touched yet alone sucked or whipped or restrained.

Her butt cheeks involuntarily clench and unclench as she setups up the enema equipment. Master wants to clean his baby girl out so he can use her hard and deep. She can imagine him sliding the tube deep inside her rectum and releasing the warm soapy water into her bowels. When the bag is half empty and he allows her to expel, she can almost feel his cock fucking her throat as she empties. She wonders if after he fills her with the remaining liquid, he will shove an inflatable plug inside to trap the foamy liquid in her colon? She thinks for the second time about hiding the oversized dildos. Locking the liquid inside allows the fluid to sit in her colon and causes horribly debilitating cramps.

It’s been over an hour, her unpacking and room setup chores are completed per his email instructions. She thinks back over his emails and realizes he never specified how she should be dressed. She wonders if what she is wearing will entice him to throw her on the bed and fuck her within minutes of his arrival. She is so horny, but sits quietly in the chair, hands clasped in her lap, waiting. All three laptops, two in the living room where she sits and the other in the bedroom, are playing BDSM videos with the volume set on low. Even so, she can hear the screams from the women as their sadistic masters use their bodies. She shivers with fear but her lust betrays her as her cunt fills with juices.

Without thinking, she takes a sip of Master’s whiskey sitting on the table next to her chair. Her ears strain for the sound of a car in the parking lot or the click of the key lock. Another half hour passes and her nervousness increases. She wants to peek out the window, see him drive up, watch him retrieve the key card from under the mat, but he told her to sit quietly, hands clasped in her lap, legs clenched tightly together, head bowed demurely towards the floor until his arrival.

Suddenly a key card unlocks the door and he walks in. She is unsure of how to greet him so she walks to him and extends her hand. He clasps it and allows her to lead him inside. “This will be the first and last time she is allowed to take the initiative or lead him.” he decides.

As he turns away from her, he commands her, “Put out the Do Not Disturb sign and lock the door.”

She tries to turn around after latching the locks but he had advanced upon her, slamming her body into the door, smashing her tits against the hard wood. Pulling her arm behind her back into a hammer lock he wraps his free hand tightly around her throat. In a stern and demanding tone, one word is whispered menacingly into her ear.

“STRIP.”

Only a whisper escapes with his grip on her throat. “Yes Sir.”

He sits in the overstuffed chair sipping the glass of whiskey she prepared for him, watching her clothes drop to the floor piece by piece.

Naked, she faces him, bows her head, and quietly declares, “Master, do as you wish with me. Make me your baby girl pain slut.”

No response from him. He continues to sip his drink as she stands before him, head lowered, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind her back, legs spread wide. Several more minutes pass and her anxiety increases. “Did he hear me? Why is he just sitting there? I am horny as hell and need to be fucked. He hasn’t even kissed me.”

He takes another sip, noticing the change in her breathing, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as her uneasiness mounts in the silence. Threads of arousal leak from her cunt and glisten between her spread thighs. He can see that she is struggling not to look at him and to stay in position.

Finally, he stands, gathers her clothes, and tosses them into a corner. “You will not need clothes unless I want you to dress and then I will choose what you wear.” His voice is stern, commanding, like a dictator issuing orders to his minions.

Slowly, he circles her body, so close that she can feel his warm breath on her skin. He pauses, takes another sip, and sets the glass down.

Grabbing her head between his large hands, he forces his thumbs into her mouth, pulling her lips wide to examine her teeth. A few seconds later, he takes several fingers and shoves them to the back of her throat causing her to gag violently. He turns his fingers back and forth, clenched tightly and then spread wide inside her mouth.

He moves his hands to her throat and clenches them tightly, his thumbs applying gentle even pressure against her windpipe. He shakes his hands forward and backward, her head flopping back and forth as her face drains of color.

“I am your Daddy. I am your Master. I am your most sadistic nightmare.” He explains even as he increases the pressure on her throat, and then spats on her face.

“You are a piece of meat, my bitch dog, my slave whore, and sometimes, my baby girl fuck toy.” a final shake of her head and he releases his grip.

He walks around her body again, but this time, examines her like a piece of meat for sale at the market or a horse at an auction. He pulls her nipples straight out and pinches them flat, watching as she grimaces and strains to hold steady. He compresses each breast between his large hands then wrings it left and right, smiling as tears pool her eyes.

He slaps at one tit, then the other, then both from the outside. She whimpers softly and flinches. He responds, removing his belt with impressive speed and slamming it down on her backside.

“You will not make a sound. You will not move.”

She does not reply but shakes her head in affirmation. He slams the belt across her backside again.

“You will respond with “Yes Sir” when I tell you something.”

Meekly, she squeaks out, “Yes, Sir.”

Resuming his examination, he admires the red streaks left by his belt on her lily white butt. “Bend forward and spread your cheeks.” She reaches behind her and pulls her butt cheeks as wide apart as she can and bends at the waist.

He shoves one finger up her ass, pondering if his entire hand will fit. He pulls his finger out. “Hands at your side.”

“Yes Sir.” she moans.

Walking around to her front, grasping her crouch in his fist, “You must always be clean shaven for me.”

She sniffles silently. His belt slams into the back of her thighs just below her butt cheeks.

She buckles and screams out “Yes Sir.” this time avoiding the belt.

Master pushes her roughly to the floor onto her hands and knees, pressing her forehead into the carpet, kicking her legs to spread wider, his fingers cupped into her anal hole lifting her ass higher. Squeezing her butt cheeks, he slaps each globe before rearing his arm back and delivering a direct hit of burning leather. Her body lurches forward, her face scraping against the carpet.

“You were only getting 10 but since you moved, it is now 15. Do not move even an inch. Stay in position or I will add five more to the total.”

He strikes from her right several times, then moves to her left. He leaves the belt where it landed to allow the burn to sink into her flesh.

He counts each strike.

“Eight. Seven more to go baby girl. Your butt cheeks are looking good. Bright red just like I like them.”

“Ten. Poor baby girl. That must have hurt. You had five more to go, but you moved. Now you get 20.”

“Seventeen.”

“Fuck!” she screams out.

“You are not allowed to cuss. I should add another five to your count, but I have a more interesting punishment.”

He pulls a bar of soap from his bag. Before he arrived, he tapered one end similar to the base of a butt plug to ensure it stays inside her but left the blunt wide end as is. He knows it will hurt significantly more going in. Instead of lubing her opening, he wet the soap until it was covered in a thin layer of suds.

“Reach back and spread your butt cheeks.”

Unable to see what he is doing, she feels a cold slippery substance at her sphincter followed by pressure, then extreme pressure as he forces something inside her. Her agony worsens as a slow burn from the soap seeps into her tissue. Silently, she mutters, “How can I not move this hurts so fucking much?”