I had two needles in each nipple; masochistic cross hairs marking my doom. I was swollen all over. He’d been torturing my tits for hours, rotating between sliding needles in and out of my tender, sweet flesh, yanking on these piranha nipple clamps he’d drilled into me, or flogging my tits with supple leather an harsh metal beads. There was no forgiveness in this session.
I had been ignorant enough to utter a “Yes Sir” instead of a “Yes Master” and it had cost me this; the greatest pain torture session I’d ever endured. Yet. I say yet because Master always has something devious and awful hidden up his sleeve. Would you like to know what else he did to completely annihilate my will to do anything but serve him and his sadistic cock?
He made me fuck a toilet brush for starters! That nasty, painful thing right up my sensitive little fuck hole. I screamed and begged for him to stop, but that only earned me more punishment. Blood was pouring from every incision point, and he even forced a needle through my tiny, sweet clit. This was more than I could handle, and yet he forced me. More and more. I obliged, a good pain whore.