Slave of Passion

I was once again experiencing feelings of guilt and pain. Yes, pain first, and only then guilt for it. Marcus was a wonderful lover, a master of the art of love, but he was also a master of the art of inflicting pain. Oh, what pain it could be. No, it wasn't just the pain from a blow or a beating; it was a whole cascade of emotions, different and unique feelings of pain. It was like bright colors that gradually unfolded, revealing reality and frightening with their enchanting passion.

I loved him for his gentle hands and tender gaze, but I also loved him in moments of furious rage and hellish emotions of pain. Yes, I didn't love the pain itself, pain as a feeling, as an emotion,

but I loved the one who delivered it. And it was this feeling of masochism that brought me back to him again, and I, having left him for what must have been the twentieth time, returned again and again. What was I waiting for? Sometimes I can't even answer that question myself. Perhaps the heated separations drove me to this, or maybe just a banal desire for sex pulled me to him.

No matter how hard I tried to leave him, find another, or simply forget those feelings, I couldn't. I just couldn't. I couldn't not love him; his very foundations were like an anchor dragging me back into his embrace. His sensual voice haunted my dreams constantly, every night, and no matter what I did, I couldn't drive thoughts of him away, forget and not remember him. Forget forever. Forget him. Forget and forgive. Forgive myself for the weakness of the body, for the weakness of the soul. Forgive and forget...

And so, having once again promised myself a bunch of foolish things and even believing—yes, yes, believing, and how could I?—believing myself that this time I would succeed, that I had become wiser, stronger, and wouldn't succumb so foolishly and uncontrollably to my feelings, wouldn't be stupid this time. I would endure... And again, again failure, failure... Perhaps it was fate or an evil fate playing a joke on me. What else could you call it, if I again, despite all my own persuasions, despite my memories, and not even fearing the last time, returned to him.

Just an idiot. A fool. A brainless blockhead!! That's what you should call me. My soul and body were being torn apart. I was on my knees, a scarlet leather collar of patent leather with cold, sharp steel spikes adorned my neck. I was chained to a radiator. My long hair cascaded like waves over my shoulders, my ass... In my cornflower-blue eyes, fear and horror were frozen, and tears streamed continuously down my cheeks, falling like fine rain onto the floor near my knees.

My scarlet lips embraced a ball gag that had been placed in my mouth and fastened tightly behind my head. Yes, this was to quiet my moans. After all, it was an apartment, and scaring the neighbors wasn't advisable. Oh, Marcus, he was always so thoughtful, sometimes even excessively so, and that frightened me. My hands were pulled behind my back and fastened with handcuffs. These were not at all those soft, pleasant-to-the-touch cuffs made of fur or leather sold in sex shops. No, these were high-strength steel handcuffs with spikes inside, custom-made, they delivered many painful moments.

Now they were tightly fastened around my wrists in such a way that the sharp spikes had pierced my skin just a little, but even that brought quite strong pain, from which I had already been sobbing for a full half hour. Thin streams of blood trickled down my wrists, blood slowly dripped, running down my fingers onto the floor. Today Marcus had exceeded my expectations. I hadn't thought, when I returned, that I would find him in a state of slight intoxication, as he called it.

And at such a time, catching his eye meant deeply regretting your action. That's exactly what I was doing now. Yes, I regretted my action... But nothing would have changed, even if I could have precisely predicted what would happen, I would still have returned to him again. I couldn't live without him and without those emotions, which were sometimes extremely strange, incomprehensible to me, and even frightening, but it didn't matter, I wanted to be near him. As a wife, a mistress, a slave—it wasn't so important, as long as I could just see his gaze, his beautiful eyes, and bring him pleasure. Yes, his pleasure above all else!

If he likes it, if it brings him orgasm, I am ready to endure anything he devises. My soul and body belong to him entirely. I have no taboos, and there can't be any. I am merely his property, and he is my master. My legs were adorned with leg cuffs, absolutely identical to the handcuffs both in construction and in the sensations they delivered. My nipples were tightly clamped with metal clamps, from the ends of which metal chains stretched, ending in a small weight, only 5 grams. A small weight, but the pain was barely bearable for me.

My nipples had reddened and were a burgundy color; from the torment delivered to them, they had swollen and become a bit longer. Marcus called this my favorite body modifications, non-surgical surgery. He was sculpting my body into his ideal of female appearance, and I obediently endured all the hardships thrown upon my fate. In addition to everything, my breasts were bound with a thick, rough rope, which not only tightened my breasts very tightly but also pricked terribly, simply impossibly so.

I terribly wanted to tear it off myself and furiously scratch my chest until it bled. Thanks to the rope, my breasts stood proudly, slightly reddened, they became even firmer and more attractive to Marcus. I was on my knees. My knees were spread wide, and my labia were adorned with freshly made piercings, performed without anesthesia with a thick needle heated red-hot over a flame. Through the holes were threaded thick, heavy steel rings, which caused a lot of discomfort.

They strongly pulled my labia downward, and besides, the holes in the skin still burned like flame. To make the sensation last a long time, Marcus sprinkled burning pepper on my piercings, and they burned and itched terribly. So that my labia would achieve the desired length and hang well, he tied a small weight to each ring. Despite the fact that I had been standing like this for half an hour already, the pain hadn't subsided at all, and sometimes it seemed to me that it was only increasing with every minute.

The pain was so strong that sometimes it seemed to me that I was about to lose consciousness, and at that moment I was doused with ice-cold water with pieces of ice. This allowed me not only to not lose consciousness but to continue feeling everything that was happening to me.

 — My love, today I will deliver you the highest pleasure. You will love my tortures even more today, and if not, you will experience new emotions. Oooo, I promise you that. His mood didn't please me at all. Wasn't this all? What else could he have devised for me? Oh, this was starting to frighten me even more, and I sobbed even harder.

 — Cry as much as you want, cry. That won't stop me, and no one will hear you. You came back yourself. I'm glad. That means you want the same thing I do. Worthless scum! Bitch! You betrayed me again and wanted to betray me! You betrayed me! I will deal with you! I will beat all the foolishness out of your head! Do you hear me? All the foolishness!! Turning me with my back to him, he forced me to lean forward and sharply inserted something into my anus; later I understood it was just an enema and thought there was nothing terrible about it.

 — Don't relax, whore! It's only just beginning! There will be many surprises ahead for you!

A burning hot liquid, apparently with pepper or something else, began to flow into my rear, but this stuff burned terribly. No, not this! If only he would stop! I won't survive this! No!!! Marcus, not stopping, continued to pour. Water into me, water filled my intestines to the brim. My stomach began to swell, tears poured from my eyes like hail. He will tear my insides!!! Oh no! I'll die!!

Water continued to pour into me, my stomach became like a tight drum, it was filled to capacity, water was already spilling out of me, but Marcus, painfully and roughly grabbing my stomach with his fingers, kneaded it, and water continued to enter me. When kneading the stomach no longer helped and I began to resemble a pregnant woman in her last month, he stopped. Taking a huge phallus, he shoved it into me painfully and without lube, all the way to the hilt.

 — This will plug your ass and won't let the water spill out! Wow, what a look! Yes, bitch, it's only just beginning! Endure, scum!

And he struck me across the face with a backhand. The pain was becoming simply hellish; inside, the water mixed with pepper and burned all my intestines, all my insides. Could this really not be the end?!

Marcus took a scalpel and, sharply running it over my shoulder blades, back, and buttocks, made quick, thin cuts. Blood gushed from the wounds. He took salt and sprinkled the wounds.

 — Mmmmmmmmmm!!!

 — Talk to me, talk! Shameless trash! You'll know how to betray me!!

He took a set of disposable syringes and deftly extracted the needles from them, stretching the skin on my thighs, he pierced my entire buttocks with needles.

He did it quickly and sharply!

What pain!!! I began to moan even more furiously!

 — This is only the beginning. Bitch! Did you think that was all? — he began to laugh terribly.

Taking a hard cane, Marcus began to beat me on the nipples, breasts, stomach. Slow and sharp movements with a pull-back. It was awful. He knew how to hit so that there were no marks, but the pain from it didn't become any less.

Seating me on my buttocks, pierced with needles, he violently shoved his cock into my vagina and began his furious ride of love. Fiercely invading and tearing at my womb, he derived enormous pleasure from my pain. Crying out, he ejaculated into me with his hot sperm, filling me to the brim so that it began to spill onto my thighs. (Specially for еtаlеs.ru— .org) Having finished, he calmed down. He had spent his anger. He looked at me; he felt sorry for me, because he loved me and hated me simultaneously. He didn't want to cause me pain and yet at times fiercely craved it. He was who he was.

Removing all the needles, taking off my collar, leg cuffs, handcuffs, and removing the plug from my ass and letting me release with pleasure into the porcelain, he gave me first aid. He bandaged and smeared all my wounds, removed the weights from my labia and nipples, untied and massaged my breasts. Rinsed my intestines with a healing agent and smeared me with painkiller. He gently hugged me and kissed me on the lips. Marcus took the gag out of my mouth and again kissed me with complete tenderness.

 — I love you so much, my Rada... I've caused you so much pain and suffering again. You must leave me. I have no control over myself when I'm angry. I am not worthy of you.

 — Marcus, you know I simply can't do that. I love you just as you are.

We hugged each other and engaged in the tenderest union of hearts...