The Darkest Slave Queen

Author’s Note: If you’re easily offended, please don’t keep going. It’s a dark story and the tags don’t lie. Also, it is most definitely fiction.

Dealing in the darkest parts of the underworld had its upsides. For a start, it garnered me a lot of money. Filthy amounts of it, especially from the slave and weapons trade. For another, I had oh, other illicit comforts in my life.

A slave of my own, for instance. Every morning, when I woke up, I never used a standard toilet for my wastes anymore. Instead I would undo my lovely slave’s gag and she would press her lips worshipfully to my asshole to eat what I dispelled. Or she would gently take my cock between those same lips and serve as my urinal, without spilling a single drop. Indeed, she treated anything from my body as something of a deity. Oh, she hadn’t been a willing toilet slave when I first found her, not by any means, but she had broken very well to my training. It had taken torture and permanent modification to make her into the foulest of slaves, but I had had patience. Now, her lips were soft and loving on any part of my body. Even better, those lips were tattooed with foul profanities and I had modified more than my slave’s diet. I had modified her little cunt to be a permanently molded latex toy that could barely feel pleasure. I had modified her asshole to be a latex rimmed ring that gaped like a fucking cavern and her breasts were humiliating in size, a full FF that stood out when I cinched her in a severely painful latex corset.

Lady was her fitting name and she was the only other living creature allowed in my private rooms. In fact, she slept there most often. Though I had abducted her and I regularly used her as my torture toy, she was absolutely broken to me. She was incapable of biting the hand that fed her, even though that hand was exceedingly cruel and the food it fed was foul.

She was the one to crawl by my side to the door when I had to leave her for the time that started her changes in life. It was a series of events that would end in interesting paths for my slave. The night of the genesis, as I thought of it, I left her in the care of a very good friend named Dr. Tyler Weyland, the same doctor who had helped me modify her. Her sad eyes when I left made me smile and I pet her to soothe her. “There, there. I’ll be back for your toilet services soon enough.” Even so, she looked so very forlorn and desolate. Ah, the difference a year and a half will make for a slave. Truly, I did not like leaving my slave’s side and did not do so unless I absolutely had to anymore. It was something fascinating I had found in myself, this strange attachment that kept this tortured little creature close at hand and allowed her to sleep in my private rooms.

But of course there were other not so glamorous parts of the underworld and it would be these parts that started this little twisted tale. It was rare that I made mistakes anymore and I had been shot exactly three other times in my life. All three were in my younger days when I was more reckless and took more risks. Those same risks were the things that made me the fringe king I had become, but they were stupid of me at times. I had gotten lucky.

I made another mistake meeting a new client this specific night. A while ago a friend of mine had suggested I sell my slave and, I suppose to be fair, the amount offered my friend had been 7 digit, due to my slave’s heavy modification work and desirably extreme masochistic conditioning. I had been beside myself with fury at the mere suggestion and had the woman who suggested this brutally killed. I should have known she might have a friend or two in the underground world and that they might be stupid. That night, he managed to allow himself one shot at me before my guards got him, one very quick surprise shot, and he missed my heart for my shoulder.

Luck. Again, luck. I started to feel my mortality with the pain spreading hot through my shoulder. I covered the wound calmly and my guards had the man alive, so I gave the quiet command to keep him alive in one of my warehouses for the time being and then called Dr. Weyland’s home compound. He was waiting for me by the time I reached his place, a mansion almost as extravagant as my own. I passed the time on the way to him by thinking of lovely little Lady and the way she worshiped everything of and from my body. I comforted myself by thinking of the way she rimmed my asshole with little fluttering strokes of her tongue when I needed use of her scat slut services. I thought of the way she took to eating what I gave her from that orifice. It made me smile to think about how she had been so dead set against scat play before, how she had stared up at my in horror when I had forced her to take it and trained her to it. Now she was adoring anytime I fed her, a sweet slave well broken.

“Jesus Christ,” Weyland said when he saw me. “How did you make a rookie mistake like that?”

I grimaced at him. “A good question. I still don’t know who he is or how he managed to get by my securities as any friend of Nina’s.”

“Well you better damn well figure it out. You’re not generally fucking stupid, so maybe you should be concerned. Come on. Let me fix you.”

“As you like, but bring me Lady.” I had had to travel for this little adventure and it had taken me from my slave for over 48 hours now. If I was going to be in pain for the next little bit, I wanted Lady at my side so I could comfort myself by stroking the long, luxuriant locks of her hair. Weyland hesitated and I stopped, narrowing my eyes at him. “Tyler, where is my slave?”

“She’s here.” He said it gently, calming me. “She’s here and she’s well cared for. A friend and I have kept her fed on your preferred diet for her.” I nodded to that. I preferred to keep her well accustomed to human waste, though she had supplemental nutrition as well and could survive on it alone. The supplement was flavorless however, as I wished for the only taste she have to be for scat play and urine. The conditioning had worked well, in fact, especially after a year and a half. “She was groomed this morning and she’s lovely.”

“Then bring her to me,” I said softly, dangerously.

He sighed. “Alright. You’ll have to comfort her anyway, I suppose, but I need to warn you. She overheard the news about you and I’m concerned her behavior might upset you while I’m working.”

“You’re about to be concerned for much more than that if you don’t do what I fucking say.”

He grimaced and nodded to his own guard. “Bring Lady to the office please. Come on, then.”

With that command in place, I happily obeyed. I was generally a more than cooperative patient, but I had proclivities where my slave was concerned now and I was a man used to getting my way. I didn’t fight at all when Weyland sat me in a chair to start his work in taking out the lead in my shoulder and stitching me up. I was, however, interrupted by a sound that made me look up in astonishment.

It was muffled shrieking, extremely upset and distraught shrieking at that. And I recognized those sounds. Weyland’s guard opened the door and tugged through a very anguished Lady. She struggled at the end of her leash and she had on her modified gag, the one that unscrewed to reveal a hollow tube into her mouth with which I could pour whatever I felt like feeding her. Her hands were cuffed together loosely before her and her ankles had a short chain keeping her restricted. What was more, she was also blinded with the heavy leather covering these small goggles that kept her vision restricted even when I took the cover off and allowed her sight.

“Lady!” She froze at the sound of my voice and her shrieks stopped. She made this strange keening sound instead, a distressed whining. “I’ve taught you better decorum than this.” But I couldn’t make my voice angry. My slave was shaking in a sense of trauma and dread, as if she had experienced something truly unsettling to her. I held out my hand for her leash, which the guard was all too happy to give me, holding still while the doctor started his work on my shoulder. And I spoke softly while rattling her leash. “To me, lovely little slave.” And instantly she crawled to my voice, making soft pathetic little mewling sounds.

I did something rare then and gently undid not only her top blinder, but also the restrictive goggles beneath, releasing my little slave to full sight. She blinked up at me in astonishment and then pressed the leather of her gag to my knee as if in a facsimile of a kiss. Of course, these were the only forms of kisses my slave was ever permitted, but they warmed me. “There, there, little slave. You see? All that panic was unwarranted. Take deep breaths and sit up straight like my good slave acts. Look at how pretty your hair is after the doctor had you groomed. Such a beautiful like toilet and punishment slave I have.” I stroked her while I cooed above her, loving compliments and cruel intimacies. “There we are. Such a well mannered slave. No more of that bad behavior.” I hissed through my teeth when the doctor gave a particularly sharp dig inside my shoulder and my slave cried out behind her gag. I looked down to see devoted sorrow in her eyes. She quivered and stared at the bleeding mess of my shoulder with fearful horror, making me chuckle with affection. “This is nothing, lovely. The doctor just has to remove the lead. It takes more than this to drop your Master and you do have faith in Master, don’t you, Lady?” She nodded, eyes fierce with assurance and I had to smile in amusement. I let the next waves of pain wash over me without reaction, though not because I was too proud. It was because Lady made me be more. I was cruel to my slave and I tortured her regularly. I rarely used a toilet at all anymore, choosing to use her mouth instead and she had few comforts in life. But I was very protective and possessive of my slave.

It seemed some variant of that was returned from her to me, as her reactions to my wound let me know. I stroked Lady thoughtfully while the doctor finished his work on me. He followed me home to give me overnight care, well aware that I would not sleep in another’s house. I did not trust another with my safety except for Lady, of course, who was incapable of harming me when she was in her nightly latex bondage. “Lady,” I said that night when we were finally alone. “Would you like to fuck Master in bed to comfort yourself?”

I was having a strangely soft moment after the night’s events, so soft that my slave was still free of her blinder and she looked all about her in fascination, having never been allowed this much vision for so long. She blinked at the sight of my mansion, as extravagant as it was, and I was feeling kind enough to allow her the moment. Mostly because it fascinated me how she looked around herself and then always turned her gaze back to me, as if nothing she saw compared to the visual of her god and torturer. Her eyes widened at my offer, her mouth still gagged and wrapped in its latex covering, but those eyes of hers were so expressive on their own. She hesitated, as if unsure of my offer.

Lady did not generally fuck Master. Lady got fucked. What was more, I had modified her pussy to be more like a latex cock sleeve, so she couldn’t even get much sensation from sex, certainly not enough to achieve orgasm. An adhesion had been melded and sealed to her insides to ensure she stayed castrated of her own pleasure, forcing her to serve my pleasure. And she had never been allowed in my bed, had only ever slept by its side, on the floor. “It’s a real offer, Lady. I’ll unchain your wrists and ankles and let you ride me and feel me as you like.”

Hesitantly, as if certain I would torture her for the answer, she nodded and I had to smile. It was the kind of thing I would do, in fact. Test her with an offer and then punish her brutally when she failed the test. But this was nothing like that and I was being serious. The thought of my little slave feeling me, fucking me, to assure herself of my safety gave me pleasure. I released her hands and wrists and gestured for her to straddle me.

Of course, first she had to unlock her pussy. I had used piercings to tether it closed after I had transformed it into a latex toy. The latex adhesion coated to the inside of her little hole made it so that all the way through it was nothing but smoothness stroking across my cock when we fucked. My favorite term for her sex was to call it my toy cunt and the piercings around it were these grommets. I laughingly referred to them as my toy pussy’s zipper, since they kept her hole chained shut.

She touched the piercings there and looked at me to ask permission to undo them and I smiled and nodded. It would be one of the first times that Lady was left free to explore herself, though I had “unzipped her toy pussy” so often that she well knew the procedure. She unhooked the rings from the grommets and gently fixed them so they wouldn’t hurt me before she crawled onto the bed, again waiting for my approval. The gag, when not opened for using her toilet mouth, formed a shapeless black latex band around her mouth, a kind that matched her pussy, and it aroused me even more to see her so naturally ask her questions with her eyes.

Lady had been gagged for a very long time, excepting when I used her mouth for filthier purposes. She hesitated again on the bed beside me.

And then she stroked her fingertips down to her toy sex, her eyes questioning again. I felt a surge of delight at the curiosity there, understanding. My slave had never gotten to explore her new modifications over the past year and a half. She had seen their appearance, had been taunted with their de***********ions, but she had never felt herself. She spent most of her life in some form of restrictive bondage. “You can play, yes. Go on and feel it.” Her eyes lit up and she bent forward, “kissing” my wounded shoulder in her gratitude. She spread her legs for me to watch while I lifted one hand behind my head, naked and aroused, and smiled thoughtfully, enjoying the sight of her self exploration.

Her hand caressed the seamless latex between her legs and it was a beautiful little work of art too. It did, indeed, look like a toy set against the milk white of her flesh. What was more wonderful was how it was part of her flesh, so it wasn’t like a raised toy fitted inside of her that could be removed. After I sterilized Lady, this had been one of my first modifications. This and augmenting her already large breasts.

A soft little gasp escaped around her strict gag when she thrust two fingers into her tight little toy hole. And that was something I hadn’t anticipated. The latex skin adhesion had healed and sealed nice and tight, so that it gripped me like a squeezing caress anytime I used her. Lady tilted her head at the sensation, then thrust her fingers, playing with herself. Of course, she couldn’t feel very much with it, not sexually, but she seemed heavily aroused by the feeling of fingering it. She worked her hand, softly inhaling through her nose while I watched, getting more aroused. “Use the lubricant in the drawer and make it ready for me,” I said softly.

Obediently, she scrabbled to obey, and Lady knew where the lubricant was by then. She lifted it from its place and worked while I watched, lubricating her enticing little hole. I don’t know what set me off about Lady’s little pussy, either. Perhaps it was the fact that it was a permanent modification and she would never go back to sexual normalcy. Perhaps it was the seamless way the latex opened up and smoothly covered where her clit used to be before I removed it because I had mostly certainly relieved her of that female button of sexual satisfaction. Or perhaps it was the fact that she could get no pleasure of her own and was forced to only service for my pleasure, only focus on my pleasure. It could have been many reasons, but I loved that black coated opening between her legs. It never failed to make me hotter and hotter anymore and I never got bored with it. Even then, when she wasn’t bound up in my reverse prayer position preference, helplessly forced to take whatever I wished her to, I was hot with the sight of her pouring lubricant on herself and her fingers to spread herself open, as if making my toy ready for me. I smiled while she worked, enjoying the sounds the lubricant made.

“Good girl, Lady. Now, come and sit.” I stroked my cock where I lay naked in bed and Lady crawled over me obediently. Absolutely obediently.

She fitted my cock to her gleaming pussy and slid down slowly, watching me while my eyes fluttered closed with the delight. Every time, every single goddamn time was bliss. It was always like a smooth fist stroking down on me, gripping me tight. Later, I would even clean the lubricant from her much like one would clean a sex toy, spraying it out. It also helped that Lady’s asshole was another latex coated modification and had to stay fitted with a monstrosity of a butt plug, since I had surgically ruined that hole and she could no longer control it. It made me feel every inch, made me arch up to thrust inside of her and fill her more. And Lady had been paying very close attention to the ways I liked to fuck most, as it turned out. She stayed lifted on her knees, staring down at me adoringly, watching my pleasure, and she lowered herself little by little. It seemed to take an age until she could go no further and my cock was constricted with that soft, slick adhesive. She bent forward to kiss my neck lovingly, pressing the gag leather gently to my shoulder over and over again while she let me enjoy the feel of her wonderful, modified little cunt.

She lifted back up in perfect timing to stroke me, riding my cock while I relaxed and smiled. I had denied painkillers, as I didn’t trust anything or anyone enough to be influenced, but I didn’t need them with this to distract me. Lady squeezed her pussy around me to better give me pleasure and I stroked a palm up her latex corset, enjoying the sight of her massive tits bouncing over it. The rings through her nipples and septum glistened silver against their black adhesive, melded and welded together to be permanent. Her leather arm bands covered her forearms, the silver rings I used to hold her in bondage glittering against them.

I hissed with orgasm at the thought of my sweet little slave. I had expected to become bored of her eventually, perhaps to kill her when I was done with her, but I never did. And she was actually quite a fascinating little creature. After I had heavily tortured her in sick and demented ways, she had started the routine of cowering at my feet in her bondage and on her chain leash. She scampered fearfully and nuzzled me for comfort, even though I was still the one giving her the most pain. It seemed she was truly broken by the things I did, something that aroused me to no end.

I smiled up at her with my finish, enjoying even more the fact that she got no pleasure, and would never get it again, while I took as I willed. “Good girl, Lady.”

To anyone else, her eyes would appear empty and blank. But I saw the slight lifting around her eyes that let me know she was pleased at having gotten to serve me and done so well. She crawled off of me and, per my command, knelt obediently on the ground with her wrists crossed at her stomach, so I could bind her for bed. I covered her with a blanket and used my good hand to stroke her hair while I went to sleep, my silent slave out in moments.

————

Our foray served to make me thoughtful. Little Lady had never been given so much freedom under my hand. I wondered if this would affect her slavery, if she might suddenly start to assume herself more free because of my leniency. I wondered if she might resist me when I wanted to feel her tongue rim my asshole the next morning and when I invariably demanded her to take whatever I fed her from that hole.

To my relief, she did not disappoint me. She did indeed take what I forced her to, kneeling like normal. She was silent when I removed her gag and she gently fluttered her tongue against my hole, pleasuring me with her usual amount of reverence and fear. She knew better than to speak or resist by then and it seemed I had thoroughly trained these things into my slave.

This made me even more thoughtful. I had fully expected to regret my moment of indulgence for her, but my slave proved more and more loyal by the moment. Such terror and screaming when she thought me wounded. Such abject service with foul acts that she had once hated. After our shower, where I used her pussy one more time, and after I cleaned my slave, I leashed her and this time I allowed her to have her arms and legs for full movement while crawling at my side. She obediently crawled as the chain guided her, while I smiled.

When we reached my office, she bowed forward for me to secure her in my preferred reverse prayer and then knelt by my side while I stroked her. Her gag was back in place, although I had allowed her to be free of her blinders again.

She listened at my side as the doctor checked me and she nuzzled me when my guard came to ask me my directions for the man who had shot me. They waited for me to drop the axe, to say that two of my other guards could get to work on him. I had plenty of sadistic hearts hired and they would be more than thrilled to start the recording for what happened when someone made to kill me and did not succeed. It was a torture and death sentence.

But I had a better idea. He quietly asked me if I wanted them to start and have it taken care of, if I preferred a time when I could watch and enjoy the violence. But I held up my hand and looked down at the reverent slave at my side. “Lady.”

Weyland sat forward in shock, watching me. But Lady looked up obediently to my addressing her, having had her head laid against my thigh, worshiping me as she seemed to think I was her god. Her eyes met mine, waiting for me to continue with a respectful gaze. “You were very upset that Master was hurt, no? So distraught.” She nodded, eyes turning fierce, and I smiled. “Do you remember the video of Nina, where I punished her for presuming to sell my slave?” Lady nodded again. Of course she remembered. I had made her watch that terribly gruesome video. “The person who shot Master needs to be punished. Would you like the honor of doing it?”

Weyland opened his mouth, but I gestured him silent while Lady looked up at me with clear, broken eyes. Those eyes turned cold with her wrath for the person who had dared to harm her terrible Master.

She nodded.

“Set the room up and leave us. I’ll bring her to start her task.” I said it shortly and my guard didn’t dare question me, no matter how strange the command.

Weyland had a little more leeway and a little more knowledge. He quietly, respectfully asked one question. “Are you certain of this?”

“Yes. Call it a social experiment for my curiosity. Leave us.”

And then he didn’t dare ask another question. He left.

————

I dressed Lady in different clothing for her task. Oh, it was still the latex she was accustomed to, but this variation covered her, mostly. It was a dress, one that showed off her tits. Thigh high stockings went up her legs and I covered these with high heeled boots. I fitted her with long latex gloves and then wrapped a partial face mask around her gag, creating a seamless black appearance that curled beneath her nose. I pinned her hair up and out of her way and I left her free of her blinders still.

By the time I was done, she looked quite beautiful and fearsome, if I do say so myself. Her sex was covered with an undercoating of the dress, not that it mattered much as her pussy was mostly latex anyway. I fitted a slimmer collar at her throat beneath the mouth covering, in place of her usual humiliatingly high collar with its O-rings. “When we get there, you’ll find all manner of toys already waiting for you on the wall, lovely,” I said in the car. “Use whatever you like and take as much time as you think fitting for the sin of harming your Master.” My little slave nodded her understanding and I absently stroked her hair while she stretched out her latex covered fingers and studied them. She seemed a bit uncertain of her nature in standing and allowed such freedom. Indeed, she didn’t even have her armbands and she hadn’t been without those for a year and a half. I pet her lovingly. “You look lovely, little Lady.”

She blinked at me, tilting her head hesitantly, but then she seemed to smile around her gag and she bowed her head adoringly. I helped her out of the car and held her hand, curling one finger through the O-ring of her collar, and that gesture seemed to soothe Lady immensely. She followed where I guided, giving me a grateful glance, and I pat her head comfortingly. I led her through the warehouse to an internal door and tapped it. “Knock when you’re ready to enter. He’s already strapped down. If you need to switch his positioning for any reason, you gesture to the camera and I will help you. We start recording whenever you get started with your punishment. You see, Lady, the video footage gets circulated as a threat, understood?”

She nodded silently, eyes empty and calm. Beautiful, broken girl. “Very well. Whenever you’re ready then.”

Lady turned to the door. She hesitated one more moment and then I heard the knock on the door as I was walking to the room with the camera feedback, opting to watch her on the video as it was taken. I wanted to see what Lady would do when given time to herself with her victim.

It turned out even I was not ready for the results of my little social experiment.

————

Doctor Weyland waited in the recording room for me, along with two other guards, and his eyes held their own curiosity. Despite his concerns, he had his own thoughts and ideas regarding the brokenness of my slave and even he couldn’t resist a test of this nature, it seemed. It was a curious thought. How much of a monster had I created by torturing my slave so thoroughly? How much evil had I sown with my selfish and callous transformation of her body, at the expense of her own pleasure?

The answer was infinite amounts.

At first, Lady circled around the medical table her victim was strapped to. And she looked a rather terrifying vision in the harsh concrete setting, my little slave. The thing about Lady was the fact that I had conditioned her to heavy cruelty for a year and a half, so she seemed at ease and calm with her surroundings. For one like her, they were like a second home, and her victim was gagged, but yelling behind the ball gag, snarling at her. She studied these reactions for a moment and then she went to the wall where a large amount of toys waited for her. She picked up a blow torch, still curiously watching, and started the flame over his eye so that his screaming increased. She lowered it tauntingly, threatening him to see the terror, but she didn’t harm yet. Next for threat was the other eye and she taunted again while the man howled in fear. Lady set the torch down thoughtfully and went to the wall again, studying the ***********ion of razors and torture toys.

She settled on the whip and I leaned forward in interest. Little Lady knew the whip exceedingly well. I had taught her all manner of horrible agonies under my hand and the whip was among a favorite. I cringed when she started at his cock and his balls, smiling to myself when the screams behind the gag rose in desperation and terror. Lady used a cruel little cutting toy to start, not like my usual braided whip for her. No, she worked at his thighs and flayed the flesh off of them with her strikes. I don’t know how long she took and I didn’t care. I lost myself to the visual of sheer violence, felt my blood burn hot with the desire it gave me. My little slave knew how to play.

And she was just warming up. She took a break from flaying with the whip when the shrieks had started to rise too high and she waited for a bit, although she wasn’t kind in the wait. The man whimpered beneath her and she grasped his chin and leaned forward with a small sound that just barely escaped the layers of latex over her mouth. It was a sound that seemed a lot like a menacing growl, in fact, and then she shoved his face back violently and picked up a serrated razor blade instead.

She started flaying and slicing between each and every one of his ribs, while blood flowed from her hand and the screams turned terrible. She cut a grotesque image of an outline of his rib cage, pausing to tear wet flesh when it didn’t finish cutting, and those actions produced howls. I leaned back in my chair, my fingers steepled over my lips, excited. I had set out to create a truly terrible and heinous little creature.

I had succeeded.

She impressed me and that’s no easy task. From the razoring work, she went to the blow torch again and here, she did something she had seen on Nina’s death video. Lady melted his eye in his socket, flaying away more flesh. It was terrible and it kept getting worse and worse. When she started in on her castration of the man, my two guards ended up leaving us to my amusement. My God, she was a magnificent monster, a sight of true evil.

And she seemed to understand when her fun was reaching its end, for she studied her victim when he lay weak and he finally seemed to be nearing shock. She had one last act to do and that was to dip her latex fingers in the flowing crimson and paint on the concrete wall a single message, punctuated by the horror that preceded it.

DONT TOUCH MASTER.

She finally looked at the camera and gestured to the pathetically mewling creature on the medical table, barely alive, barely recognizable as human, missing an eye, missing a cock and his balls, missing a hand. The fingers of that last were laying on his chest.

I looked at Doctor Weyland, who stared at me with wide eyes. “That was” His voice seemed hoarse and he tried to swallow.

I finished the sentence for him. “Incredible,” I whispered softly. I turned off the video recording so I could speak over the intercom. “Lady.”

She looked up at the sound of my voice, expectant and waiting my command. “You’re off video now. I want you to put him out of his misery, place the toys back where you got them, then kneel facing away from the door with your hands empty and on the back of your head. If you’re holding any cruel little toys when I walk in, Lady, your punishment will be severe, understood?”

She nodded immediately and she was swift in her obedience. She slit the man’s throat, placed the razors and whips and torches and knives back where she’d gotten them, and then knelt exactly as I had commanded, her little latex dress dipping in the blood of her victim. When I walked in, she bowed in subjection and surrender, as if to prove all the more that she was my good little slave. And she was too.

The sight of it undid me. I took a moment to shut the door behind me and approached Lady, feeling a terrible ferocity in the wake of how exquisite she had been. That last message flashed in my mind’s eyes. Don’t touch Master.

I pressed her forward in the blood where it pooled beneath the table, unable to stop myself. Lady moaned and lifted to my abuses when I spanked her latex covered ass cheeks. I pulled that undergarment off and revealed her toy pussy, going hot. Latex and more latex. It set my blood afire and made me burn when I had felt so little for such a long time. I took a moment to tug the piercings holding my toy closed while Lady got dirtier and dirtier in the partially congealed blood. She took it when I growled, though, a soft moan escaping her when I undid her rings and then surged forward to fill her. “My God, little slave, I love the fucking feel of you. If only I could let you get the pleasure I feel from fucking you right now. It’s too bad I can’t pet your clit and work you up and over. If you could ever get any more pleasure, you would most certainly have earned it right now. You would most certainly have earned this slick blood all over your cunt while you screamed in ecstasy and squeezed on a cock. And yet it’s such an unfortunate fact of your life that this latex fuckhole can’t feel anything at all for you to manage to-“ I cut off with a laughing growl. Lovely Lady had a gift, you see.

It was true that she could not feel much from her modified little pussy, true that she could not orgasm from physical pleasure. But I had discovered that my darling slave could still very well get off from mental masochism. When I taunted her enough with her restrictions and her life as my own private toilet and torture slave, she could sometimes manage to find Nirvana in her own way. It was a strange way, but it was there. And when she did manage it, her little sex gripped me like a fist. She cried out her tortured bliss beneath me, a well earned ecstasy, while laying face down in the blood of her kill, made in defense of the Master she had once wished to be free of.

So twisted. So heady for me. Power rushed through my veins, wild amounts of it, and I pat Lady’s hair when I finished my own orgasm. “Good girl. That was a very good girl, Lady. Such a loyal slave I have. Such a wonderful, devoted little scat whore. You served your Master better than any could have ever expected and you will be well rewarded. Come. I need to spray you off of all the blood as best as I can and then we can go back home.”

I helped her up and she blinked at me curiously, holding out her hands as if to say, “No bad things. See, Master? Did you want to bind me for your own peace?”

And I had to chuckle. How well my slave knew me. I had developed an affection for having her by my side night and day and she seemed to have picked up on my nuances. Of course, she fed on my shit and piss and suffered often at my hand so it would make sense for her to have picked up on my mannerisms and my needs. “You may continue to have your hands for now, little slave. Keep them within my sight, please. You’ll have to forgive Master his paranoia, but my recent failure to anticipate has me on edge.” She blinked once at me and kept her hands in front of her, clasped and visible. My precious slave.

It was an interesting fact that Doctor Weyland stayed back, watching with a wary gaze, while I showered my lovely girl. I sprayed out her toy pussy and cleaned her as best I could. For the most part, the blood showered off of her quite well. What was left on the black of her latex aroused me, especially with how frightening my toilet slave appeared with her mouth so heavily and smoothly covered. Little studs decorated the side of her muzzle and I stroked those, then her hair, cooing my praise over her for her violent punishment on my behalf.

I had created something wonderful. Pleasure raced through my veins, a very different kind of pleasure than I had had when I had been breaking Lady to my torture and forcibly modifying her. When I got home, I gave her my most affectionate torture, a relaxing night with the whip while she hung from wrists and hooks pierced through her breasts. I cooed over her while I left vicious black stripes on her back. “Your lovely whip marks are going to be striped the same direction, Lady, so that they look like tiger stripes on my devoted little guardian.” She squealed her pain. And then she pranced in delight in front of a mirror when I showed her. “We can’t dress you back in your latex corset with such well earned stripes like those. No, we need something less.” I fitted her massive tits with a see through bra and matching thong, then fixed her arms in smaller cuffs, little black bands that I cuffed loosely in front of her and Lady made a cute little sound, a bashful little noise behind her gag.

It was a small giggle that made me stroke her. I fixed her leash to her collar and walked her upstairs from the dungeon, letting her crawl loosely at my side again.

————

I showered little Lady with my depraved gifts the next few weeks. Of course I made sure to give her a warning that she was not to become an ill mannered slave with my spoiling her. The next morning, I made her stare up at me while I lectured her the rules. “You’ve earned rewards that I would like to gift you with. Do not make Master regret rewarding his slave, Lady. Just because I let you show off your tiger stripes with my guests does not mean you get to hesitate in eating my shit in the morning or taking whatever fucking I wish to give you. Do you understand?” She nodded fiercely, eyes wide.

“Good girl.” And indeed, as if to prove herself, she rimmed my asshole more eagerly than she ever had when I commanded her to eat the filth I fed her. She even moaned greedily when I filled her mouth. It was amazing. She had never acted so horny to service me this way. Oh, she had been broken into accepting it, but sensual pleasure and those delighted moans? I pet her in astonishment. “My, that’s the most I’ve ever seen you be such a scat whore for me. Open up for some piss now.” And Jesus, she did that as well, adoringly. I had to fuck her for release after her little scene, it was that sexual.

So, needless to say, I did carry on with showering her in gifts. I ordered a few of them from special jewelers and those took a few weeks for me to receive. But in the meantime, I had a private shopper of mine buy her adorable fetish lingerie and a lot of latex, along with ribbons and bows for her luxuriant hair. And that, I dressed and fixed personally, taking the time to comb the locks and fix her with braids with sparkling diamond ornaments. Lady straightened her head and held herself high at my side, making sure her hair glittered anytime I had guests or business partners in my study. She sat delicately while I chuckled at her behavior and stroked her. The next thing that came in was a new latex mouth cover, a pretty one that was both fearsome and glittery for her to enjoy. Given that the only time my slave’s mouth was not covered was when she was eating shit or drinking piss or her dietary supplements, she wore these covers quite often and she delighted to this new one, lovingly giving me her “kisses” where she placed the latex to my legs and knees. Fortunately I had anticipated these behaviors, so the glitter wasn’t actually glitter. It was a sparkling under layer design in the muzzle that made no mess.

I also had the doctor come over to make Lady a new anal plug, as she had to wear one of those permanently. And he had to make it because one of Lady’s modifications as my slave was a latex ring in her asshole and permanent stretching work. In short, her asshole was a ruined gape, yawning so wide that she couldn’t be without a plug or she could mess herself with lack of control. What was more, her plug was hollow for tube attachments so that I could give her enemas or feed her the contents of her ass as I willed. The doctor remeasured her and filled her full with a brand new plug, this one with a glittering heart that served as the removable part. And then I had him give her a little tag that could attach to the row of grommet piercings in her latex pussy, another heart shaped piece of jewelry that decorated her between her legs. And that I told her was my replacement of her removed clit, purring over her that this one was much prettier for my beautiful slave. Her eyes glittered with joy and I felt a depraved pride that she was so broken that these things were the perfect gifts for the likes of her.

But it was the final few gifts that seemed to break Lady even further to me, those ones I had had to special order from a jeweler. I opened the first two small jewelry boxes while she watched, her head tilted curiously, and I had to smile at such a sweet and innocent gesture from such a vicious little creature at my knees. “It occurred to me that you needed cuffs fitting for a slave to go with your leather arm binders. I believe you’ll find that these will fit wonderfully.” I lifted out the stunning cuffs, a pair of matching black ones with diamonds that glistened in a lovely pattern around them. A silver heart lock was used to close the cuffs, one that lay beside a D ring that would be used for chains. She stared up at me fearfully when she saw them and I smiled, petting her. “It’s alright, darling. You have earned them.” Even so, she seemed on the verge of tears when I adorned her in my office.

The last gift did her in. “You have worn your humiliation and posture collar at my side for a year and a half now, suffering well on my leash. However, I think those kinds of collars are for little slaves who are not willing to eat their Master’s shit like good, worshipful girls. But my slave has been doing that without fuss like a well mannered little scat slut, horny for everything from my body. In fact, I think you might be the lowest, filthiest slave I’ve ever broken.” She raised her head proudly at my words and I chuckled, aroused that she should take pride in my degradations, horny that I had so well trained her that she would lift her chin and sit taller upon hearing that she was lower than any other she might come in contact with. I had truly broken my lovely Lady. “So I think we can dispense with such a humiliating collar, so long as my slave continues to moan eagerly at my asshole when I have need of her. I think we can use a far better collar.” I went to lift it from the jewelry box and then paused thoughtfully. “Lady. Have you ever heard my name as anything but Master?” My name was rarely ever spoken and I did not readily give it, to be honest. My business dealings were certainly not given it.

Lady shook her head and I smiled, lifting the beautiful collar from its box and lowering it for her see. It was most obviously a collar, nothing discreet, but it was much more slender than her previous humiliation band. Still, it was enough to hug her neck and make her feel her slavery at every passing moment. And it had sapphires inlaid around it with a sterling silver under layer that would make it easy to clean without it ever having to leave my slave’s beautiful throat.

But the real delight was the glittering, silver heart charm that dangled like the pendant on her toy pussy. Except this one was engraved and it read, in slender, graceful letters, “Dorian Jules’ Lady”.

She burst into tears, sobbing in abject joy at my feet, so much so that I could barely get her to raise her head for me to grace her throat with its permanent new jewelry. I fitted it so there wasn’t a breadth of air between her flesh and that collar, so that it hugged her. “There we are. A most fitting collar for a loyal slave that would punish and kill for her Master.” She pressed her shimmering mouth gag cover to my knees over and over while I went back to work, chuckling and stroking her hair. “Collect yourself, Lady. You’ve earned your collar.” Even with my encouragements, it was quite some time before she could sit up proudly at my side again. And when she did, she made sure the light caught the jewels at her throat.

————

Lady’s enslavement took a turn after my event. She became more and more attentive to my needs, watching me for every nuance. These behaviors of hers happened for a good many reasons, not in the least of which was her gratitude for the gifts I had given her. She loved to show off the dog tag ornament that decorated her toy pussy and she bowed forward happily to show off the jewel in her asshole. But her collar was obviously her favorite. She pranced with it on and crawled at my side with her head tilted so that it glittered all the more. And I took to cooing my training degradations to her when I had company. “When any of Master’s guests want to use your mouth for their waste, you be a grateful little scat slave for the food they give you, Lady, and lick their assholes clean with your respect.” And it aroused me that she nodded eagerly along with these twisted teachings. My guests started to beg me for use of Lady, as she became so loving with her licks across their holes when they needed to use her as a toilet. She would suckle for what they had to give her, gently lapping at them, so that it was pleasure to get to use her. And she moaned sensually when they fed her, letting out soft little cries as if it was her sexual ecstasy to eat her scat food. She had been good before, but she was exceptional in every bit of her service afterwards. The words “Good girl, Lady,” were ones I spoke constantly.

Of course, I still indulged with my regular torture sessions with her. She was a punishment slave. Pain was something she would never be without or free of. But she accepted this as part of her Master readily and bowed to my dark wishes without hesitation. I nailed her tits to boards a few nights, as that would always be a favorite pastime of mine. Another couple of nights, I made her run on a treadmill with so much enema water in her bowels that she sobbed from the torture of the cramps at every step. I had ended up with Lady due to my search of having a personal slave for my sickest, most fucked up desires. I did not give those desires up due to her good behavior. They were part of her life now and she knew that. She showed no disappointment when she learned these rituals would continue, displayed no signs that she had gotten her hopes up for a less painful life. My Lady knew her Master well.

But there were external forces that enforced a change in our relationship. One of these showed itself when I had a business relationship brought to my study. Lady sat at my side adoringly, her head resting on my knees, her collar glittering. I had it shined regularly for her so that it always glistened.

The client I met was someone Doctor Weyland vouched for and it was the good doctor who showed the man to my study. I forget his name, not that it ever mattered. But he walked in on a normal enough day.

And he froze when he saw Lady. It was an action to make me curious. I tilted my head and the movement made my slave look up at me to study my expressions and reactions. I left her without her blinders anymore and she turned back to my client, studying what had gotten my curiosity. “Our guest recognizes you, Lady,” I said softly. “Be a polite girl. Stand and greet him as I’ve shown you.”

She obediently stood and curtsied as gracefully as her leash allowed, and then knelt back at my side and now she watched the man with blank eyes. She knew where he would have recognized her from, as I knew.

He was terrified by her presence, so much so that his eyes darted to her while we spoke and it annoyed me. Lady heard the temperament in my voice and cowered at my knees, kissing her sparkling mouth cover to my thigh to soothe me as she always did. And after that the man nearly choked in his terror, so much so that he finally confessed to something. “Did you know it’s a commonly circulated piece of advice that any who do business with you should watch your slave?”

I tilted my head, curious again, enough so that it abolished my irritation. “I did not. Why do they say that?” Lady paused her cowering kisses and turned her head to face the man.

He watched her and then looked at me. “Because no one can read you. Except, they say, her. When she kisses your knees like that, you’re angry. When she tilts her head, you’re intrigued. When she lifts her chin and her eyes wrinkle, you’re amused.”

I froze, stunned at the emotion that filled me, at how purely it filled me. And then, for the first time I could ever remember in my life, I burst into great bells of laughter. Pure, clear laughter. It broke from me like a roar, so hard that tears stung my eyes. Lady was beside herself and I grinned down at her, catching my breath. “Are you my prophet, lovely slave? Do you hold my Ten Commandments on tablets for me? Do you translate my will to humanity?”

She nuzzled me, nodding gleefully so that I laughed harder, her giggles muffled behind her gag and latex cover so that only I could hear them. She lifted her hands and tapped a piece of paper and pen, fearfully questioning me.

And, in my good humor, I allowed her a form of real speech to me for the first time. I inclined my head and let her write.

“Let my people go, Pharaoh.”

I choked on my laughter again, so much that it blinded me. Aaron was mouthpiece because Moses had a stutter. Clever, clever slave. I pet her, snickering like a jackal at the reference. Liberating slaves, indeed.

“Forgive me,” I finally managed to say. “It was too funny. Tell Weyland I’ll work with you however you like, but my rates never change, you understand.”

The man nodded and his fear was all the more, but then that was probably warranted. My slave and I had probably looked nearly insane together with our random little antic. I pat her hair as the guest was shown out, while we were given a moment of privacy. “Come here, lovely. I need to piss.” She obediently lifted her face for me to take off her latex cover and gently took my cock between her lips to swallow down the stream I released. “Sweet girl.” And Lady never spilled a drop when I used her. She worshiped everything from my body, I had learned, and would see a drop of spilled urine as a sacrilege, a waste of a deity’s fluids. Her tongue caressed my cock while she drank it. And I? I leaned back in my office chair lazily, one hand behind my head and the other caressing her head while I never so much as had to move to relieve myself, while I was pleasured when I so much as pissed. Power rush pulsed through my veins and I smiled contentedly, watching my slave’s throat move with her deep swallows. “Does Master’s urine taste good, Lady?” She nodded as best she could and I chuckled, feeling arousal start to make my blood race.

“Such lovely service,” I praised when she was finished. She smiled up at me and now I got the pleasure of seeing her lips lift. But certain protocols were to be observed and my slave was only permitted to have her mouth visible for the time being when she was serving my filthier needs. I pressed her gag to her lips and she accepted it gracefully, bowing her head for me to fix the tie back and then lifting her face to accept the latex mask that would hide all of it. “You arouse me almost every time now, lovely. Come here and sit on my desk so I can use that toy between your legs. Spread wide for me, there’s a good girl.”

She obediently sat with her legs wide on the edge and she lifted her hands hesitantly, as if insecure. I smiled. “No, I think we’ll try something new and leave you without the bondage. Don’t be so afraid. I won’t leave you without commands to help you. Unlock your pussy for me, pretty girl.”

She obeyed while I stood and got my camera, watching me with wide eyes. But I only smiled and watched while she undid the rings that held that black latex hole effectively sewn shut when it wasn’t being used. The little charm between her legs made me smile, as did the way she brushed it gently. I took off the camera lens cover and sat back in my chair, lifting it up to my eye and adjusting the focus. “Spread your toy cunt for me, pretty girl. Show me your modified little hole.” She obediently spread herself with both hands, so that my view was of the tight, shining black insides between her thighs. I snapped the picture. “Good girl.” The latex had sealed neatly to her flesh and it was delightful. It was far smoother than the female sex usually was, far neater. The cut and cast was perfect so that the gleaming black formed a perfect accentuating shape around the outside lips of her. It went up to cover where a clit would have once been. “Lady, you’ve seen the types of photos where females expose their clit to show off how engorged it is?” She nodded and I smiled. “Pretend like you’re showing yours off for the camera.” She obediently spread the fingers of one hand in a v shaped and pressed it to the smooth black of her latex, as if holding flesh down to show off that sensitive ball of nerves for female pleasure.

Of course, as I’ve said, I hadn’t wanted Lady to have any female pleasure. She no longer had that part. Instead, there was nothing but a perversely smooth layer of that shining black. I took photo after photo. Lady spread her hole open, showing off the inside. She filled herself with two fingers, while I videoed it with my phone to show off how she couldn’t even feel much of it. She pressed the row of grommet rings down and out to show off that sleek ring she had, while I praised her and purred encouragement over her. I ended up pausing to get her a pair of red latex gloves, fitting them to her. “Now, stroke your pussy. Nice, long strokes all over yourself. Show off how little you can feel, how that hole is nothing but my toy.” She obeyed, sexily stroking herself with that blood red on shining black, both glistening in the light. I purred questions for her during the videos, things like, “Tell me, Lady, can you feel anything at all besides the slightest pressure?” To which she shook her head and emphasized by slapping a gloved hand between her legs, right where her clit once was. And I laughed delightedly, feeling my blood heat with desire. I didn’t think I would ever tire of taunting her with her castrated pleasure. I ended up taking one photo that aroused me so much I had to stop. It was a full shot of Lady sitting back on my desk, one hand stuffing herself with two fingers while her legs were spread wide. The jewel in her asshole gleamed in the center of the black toy that spread her obscenely wide and her other hand was crossed over her tits in a sensual display. I growled and sat my camera down, pulling off my suit pants and grasping my slave in a violent grip. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” I snarled. “Do it before I change my fucking mind.” Her eyes widened and she obeyed, hugging me as if she was my lover and not my personal scat slut, as if her mouth was covered as an honor and not because it served as a goddamn urinal and worse. I had never allowed my partners this much freedom, had never allowed them the chance to touch me while we fucked. Not Lady, not anyone.

And yet I closed my eyes in my pleasure while I thrust inside of her, my lips parting. Lady was tight, always so tight from her modifications. And so sleek I hadn’t even actually anticipated how much pleasure her latex cunt would give me. Truth be told, I had chosen that modification out of pure sadism, with the desire to watch her cry from the knowledge that she would never get pleasure again. I moaned when Lady stroked her latex clad fingers across my neck, turning my head to feel that sleek sensation across my cheek. And she obliged, delicately stroking her fingertips. When I opened my eyes, I saw the gleaming crimson of her gloves and grinned savagely, thrusting inside of her in a punishing pace. How dare she make me feel any of this. How dare she be this loyal to me after what I’d done to her.

I turned my eyes to stare into her wide ones while she continued to caress my cheek. “Foul little filth slave. That is what you are now, you know, Lady.” I gave her an intense gaze, filled with disdain and degradation. “We have to keep your fucking mouth covered because of how foul it is, what with the amount of human waste you’ve eaten by now. And it for damn sure doesn’t deserve to speak again after you’ve almost fucking orgasmed from rimming my asshole. And then there’s the fact that the hole between your legs can barely be called a pussy anymore. I don’t even think it was a sadistic act removing your little clit. It was what you deserved for being such a masochistic slut even then, wasn’t it-“ I broke off with a breathless laugh.

Because Lady was squeezing my cock in orgasm, soft cries escaping her gag. She couldn’t feel much between her legs, it was true, but I had learned well how to manipulate Lady’s masochism. Once upon a time my crass, cruel taunts had been just for my sadistic pleasure. But now they were a kindness on my part because they were one of the few ways my darling slave could orgasm anymore. If she could mentally climb the ladder of masochistic hedonism, it was the only way she could find a way to achieve release.

I growled with how tightly she squeezed me, then closed my eyes and groaned when it triggered my own fierce bliss. Her latex gloved hand stroking up my hair only served to make me all the hotter.

When I managed to come back down from my high, Lady was staring up at me warily, fearful of her terrible Master and god. It was that that made me okay with what happened because it was the type of thing that I would snarl at otherwise. Being intimate with a slave? I liked snuff and violence and fucking in the blood of my Lady’s kill. But it was okay because of that terrified gaze, so full of respect and waiting for me to dispense punishment as I willed because she knew me so well. It was enough to make me smile down at her and gently kiss the latex mask covering her gag, the only kiss she would ever be permitted. “I am pleased with you, Lady. Lock your pussy back with my cum in it for me.” She did that while I watched and I felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight of my semen seeping out of her, between the piercings she chained shut.

I dressed and made her kneel again, securing her in reverse prayer while we went back to work together. I stroked her lovely hair while I made the phone calls as I needed, while I spoke with Dr. Weyland. And even he studied my Lady with fear lately.

————

But there were other events as the months went by as well. Not just that first one. Lady had apparently earned a fair bit of notoriety with her terrifying message to my underworld. “Don’t touch Master” she had commanded in blood. Her message was evidently well received. Besides being heavily adored for her expertise in feeding at someone’s asshole, she also would receive stares of shocked recognition, followed by terror, while she was kneeling at my feet during parties. And she was always with me now. I refused to leave her side again, as I had started to consider my slave a lucky charm. I could think more clearly with her shifting on bloody cane tracks by my side, or whatever other remnants of my torture might decorate her.

But then there was another event that tethered us closer. I was at Dr. Weyland’s house, while he hosted a body modification demonstration. He was experimenting with the same latex adhesion process we had used to modify Lady and had come up with some interesting ideas. I watched him permanently remove the hair from the head of a crying female, probably some slave flesh I had sold to him actually, and delighted in the humiliation visual, petting Lady where she watched curiously as well. She had turned much more receptive to the profane. Where she had once been terrified to see crying slaves and their pain, she had now suffered so much at my hand that she was desensitized to the horrors she witnessed. That thought aroused me even more than the slave whose permanently bald head now gleamed black with latex adhesion.

But it was during the after demonstration that I spoke with a business dealing from before who claimed I didn’t hold to my end. Needless to say, this was something I didn’t appreciate. I kept to my word when it was given in business and I was straightforward. The man snarled at me, gesturing with a knife.

And quite suddenly there was a red latex hand gripping his wrist and a low muffled growling sound at my side where Lady stood in her padlocked heels. I watched curiously, as my slave had never stood up in the presence of others, excepting a few very rare exceptions. Weyland froze as soon as it happened and he had that frightened look in his eyes again. “I think,” I said softly, “you should probably either set the knife down or gentle your voice. Lady doesn’t seem to appreciate the perceived threat.”

The man backed off and backed down and Lady sank down at my side again. After a moment when we were alone, she tugged my pants leg for my attention, where I sat lost in thought, and I looked down. She hesitated and then bowed her head to “kiss” my thigh before she made a writing gesture with her hand and looked up at me with fearful and respectful questioning in her eyes. I nodded at her silent request and offered her my phone, pulling up a notepad for her to write what she liked.

“Please punish me. I am too low to stand.”

I studied the words, considering before I answered. “You would have me punish you for your loyalty and your guarding your Master?” Her eyes widened and I looked away. “No. I refuse your request, Lady.”

She trembled and pressed her gag cover to my thigh again. I did, of course, still give her a nightly torture. I filled her asshole with piss from Weyland’s friends, so much of it that she was sobbing behind her gag. I made her lay on the floor, her belly bulging, while she shuddered and cried and I felt that cold clarity where I was at peace with the world while seeing another’s torture. I paced around her, considering a new line of possibilities, tapping a rattan cane against my leg while I thought. Almost absentmindedly, I swung the cane against her ass and thighs to hear her shriek and sob, and tilted my head to the sounds. They made me think far more clearly so I caned her again while she held her foul enema. I made sure to connect it against previously left whip lines, watching small lines of blood rise on her flesh. I finally let her out of her misery by pulling off the latex cover of her gag and then attached a tube to her hollow butt plug and her gag, watching the fluid pour from her asshole down to her mouth. “Drink up. You have a lot to go through.” And her soft whimpers were music to make me smile. “Foul little slut,” I said softly, leaning back against the wall to watch.

It was actually a very light torture night for her. I ended up removing her gag and brushing her teeth, using mouthwash three or four times to emphasize how disgusting I thought her mouth now was. And Lady instantly lifted her face to have me cover her mouth again, something else that made me smile. I had well broken her to believing her lips were truly offensive with their tattooed obscenities and her scat diet. Indeed, her lips were something cruel. I had had them inked so that from far away they would just appear darkened, but up close you could read the words I had graced her with. “Cumslut” for instance, along with “cockwhore” and “fuckmeat” and “toycunt”.

“Not yet. Lady, I want you to answer me out loud with the next question I ask.” Her eyes went wide with terror and I gave her a cold look. “You heard me. Obey me, you little filth slut, or I’ll make you wish you were dead.” She nodded vigorously, afraid of my command, but far more afraid of punishment at my hands when I gave her nightly pain as a relaxing pastime. “Why does Master torture you?”

She lowered her face, as if she couldn’t handle looking at me and speaking, and I heard her clear her throat. And then I got to hear Lady’s soft little voice for the first time in nearly two years. It wasn’t a complete sentence, as if she thought her speaking was a terribly profane act and wanted to do it as little as possible to offend me less. “Brainstorming. Control. Calms you. Focus. Masochism conditioning with orgasms.”

I stroked her hair. Amazing. Other sadists could relate to each other and understand. But in as few words as possible I felt like my slave had seen straight to my truths and into the darkest corners of my being. What was more, she saw it and could not judge me for it. Indeed, she was incapable of judgment of any kind on her deity. But then, perhaps it was fitting that my victim would be the person to see her terrible Master and accept me. Could a sinner do anything but see the demon that held him captive in a pit of boiling tar or the malebolge of human shit? And thence I saw, within the foss below, a crowd immersed in ordure, that appeared draff of the human body. It struck me as poetic that I had many flatterers in my life who would belong in that ditch of hell, but the one creature who likely didn’t was the one I fed human waste. I stared down at Lady, where she was almost kissing my boots, considering her, realizing that this torturously modified slave was the creature who knew me better than any other. She knew my routines, knew every phone call I made, listened to every word I said, and now she went to every demonstration and party I went to. After my wound, I refused to be without her. “Lady, you know every day you live is a gift from me, yes? Every time I torture you is another time I am not bored of you.”

She moaned low and when she answered it was reverential, as if in prayer. “Yes, Master.”

“And sometimes I have you eat shit from other slaves. Why, Lady?”

“I’m lowest.” She said it instantly, with full conviction and I had to smile. The lowest, indeed. Lower even than the slave flesh I helped break in mid trade, lower than slaves she had likely outlived. And that had been my lesson actually, but while I stared down at the glittering jeweled collar with my name on it and the heart charm that made twinkling sounds between her legs, I couldn’t help but think that my scat and punishment slave had become the slave queen somewhere along the way. I amused myself by thinking of her gleaming collar as her slave crown. So proud. So low at my knees.

She had a sweet voice, too. “Lady. Kneel on the bondage bed with your hands at your neck. Do not move and wait for me to return.”

She scurried to obey, as the change in my protocols made her insecure and obedience was a grounding rod to her. I went upstairs to my library and fetched something probably disappointing to hear about. My favorite Bret Easton Ellis book. When I got back, Lady was exactly where I left her, her hands clasped at the nape of her neck in subservience. “Kneel.” I pointed to the ground, snapping, and she scurried to obey. “Read to me, Lady,” I said softly, laying back on the bondage bed to relax, one hand going up to rest behind my head while I let the other rest lazily on my chest. Lady stared up at me hesitantly but I gave her a stern look of my insistence and she opened the book, swallowing her terror. And she read to me.

I started a routine of it, wherein I would hold Lady in standard gag form during the day and at night I would lay in my bed, as opposed to the bondage bed that trial night, and listen to her read in my private sanctum. Her soft voice was punctuated occasionally by the turning of a page and she knelt at my side, bowing her head lower when I would so much as touch her. I accustomed her to speaking again in that way, but only in my presence. Around anyone else, her mouth was still a filthy sewer that was to be gagged and covered. I realized that I was turning jealous of these things in my Lady, jealous of the sound of her voice for instance. I turned more obsessive than ever with the feel of her at my side.

What was more, I started using her as a sounding board for my business decisions, speaking low to her, watching her eyes for reactions. In my office, she still always had her gag and covering, but I could read her very well by then. I would stroke her leash thoughtfully and speak ideas about my decisions, most of which walked careful lines of paranoia, and she would tilt her head or blink or consider words. Sometimes she even dared to tap my desk for a pencil and would write a short phrase that would make me consider a new line of thought. It should be noted that Lady was so terrified of her god that she only did that last one when it was a very good thought and there was no other way to convey it.

She had spent a long time at my knees. They were always good thoughts, well learned from previous encounters. She earned every last scrap of faith I grew to have in her and I was not a man who gave faith or trust easily. My reserves of both of those had long since been nearly depleted and used up, but Lady did, in fact, manage to drag out a little more.

Until, one day, I gave her the ultimate test.

————

It was very rare that I had people who were stupid enough to betray me, especially people who stood close to me. I was swift and cruel with my punishments and the horrific visual of the slave at my knees, when everyone knew she ate my feces regularly, was a very good deterrent for betrayal. I did not delude myself in imagining that I was well loved and mostly considered myself anathema to any creature with a semblance of morality left in them. The more a man disdained my ways, the more I thought it spoke of his character. Of course I didn’t respect these men or think their morality an attribute they should be proud of. I thought they were fools and took fierce advantage of them, actually, but even so, I knew I was unlovable and that fear was the fist I ruled by. Indeed, the only creature who gave me affection did so because I had locked her in the position of being a human toilet for a month and broken her to true hell at my hands.

But sometimes, for some men, fear wasn’t enough. I learned of these things in my own ways, given that I trusted no one. Whenever a slave trade business dealing seemed too good to be true, I questioned almost immediately and, to their credit, it did take me a while to follow an information leak back to one of my guards. I took the opportunity to test Lady with the event and called the man who wanted to deal with me to task.

When he was in my study and held fast by two guards while another two held the guard who’d so unwisely talked, I unchained Lady from her bondage. There were nine people total in the room. Two guards holding the slaver, two holding my traitor, Lady, Doctor Weyland, and myself. I cleaned a cruel, serrated knife at my desk and placed the handle in Lady’s latex gloved hand, so that she looked up at me with curiosity. “Tyler, what did you sign this morning?”

Weyland glanced warily at the figure at my knees, stepping forward. “Your altered will,” he said softly. Lady looked up at him at the words, eyes going wide with fear.

I smiled. “What did I mostly change?”

He glanced down at the slave girl with her knife. “Everything goes to Lady under my supervision. If you die, I help her go back to some semblance of normalcy. Of course, none of the alterations can be reversed.” He shrugged. “She will not procreate, will not have normal relationships of a sexual nature, that kind of thing, but I can help her find some simulacrum of humanity, if you will.”

I studied Lady’s expression, wide eyed and shocked as it was. “I’ll give you one chance, Lady. Do you want to be free of Master? My guards have been told to not touch you and Weyland, against his will, agreed the same. All you need do is give me one clean stab to my chest and it will all be over. No more hell, no more nightly torture, and all you could ever want will be yours. You will never need another thing for as long as you live.”

Realization was slow, for once, and when it did dawn on her, she screamed behind her gag, so that I smiled. The knife fell at her knees and she scrabbled as if it burned her. I was laughing in victory even while I stood and grabbed the knife, grasping her by her hair and holding her still. I forced her to the ground beneath me and forced the handle of the blade back in her palm even while she fought for all she was worth. But she went dead still when I positioned the blade to the hollow at my throat, as if she was too afraid to wound me with her struggling. “If you don’t do it, Lady, I’m going to whip you all night, for hours. Every inch of your body will be striped and your flesh will have started to flay by morning. I’ll show your blood, I will make you scream louder than you have ever screamed. And then when I’m done and you’re in sore agony, come tomorrow Weyland is going to continue on with more alterations to your body. I’m going to use that latex adhesive and coat your nipples, for instance. These are promises. One stab, Lady, and it ends now.”

She shook her head violently, sobbing up at me. “No? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps that’s too extreme. Would you like to be free instead, Lady? Would you like to leave my side and go back to school and have a different life? It would be tricky to help you get out like that, with your tattooed lips and things of that nature, but I could find ways to make it work. You’ll always be an outcast, I’m afraid, but you still will have my support.”

There wasn’t even a hesitation. She shook her head violently, terror in her eyes. “Are you sure? Last chance, Lady. You can make it all end right now and you’ll never have to see me again.”

I have seen many people die. I have watched the joy of snuff and watched many a man, who all paid me a disgusting sum of money, orgasm while the slave flesh beneath them lost the light of life from their eyes. I’ve videoed and sold the encounters and I’ve made my fortune in it. But none of them was as satisfying as seeing the light that left Lady in my office that day. Perhaps she had just a shred of hope left, the thinnest bit, but I watched it finally die that day. She went still beneath me, almost peaceful, and she did not fight. She was quite calm where I still forced her to hold the knife to my throat and I smiled at the emotionless gaze in her eyes, at the way she shook her head again.

It felt better than orgasm. That was the moment where I destroyed the fearful and sweet slave that was Lady. That was the moment where I made her like me, a hollow, emptied, amoral demon of a person. “As you will. Stand up. Take the knife.” She obeyed at my side, turning with that empty gaze. “You know the story, lovely girl. I was betrayed. Guards who have a combination of too much knowledge and too few brains can’t be trusted with tongues. Take his for me, Lady. Weyland will help you while I finish my business dealing.”

The man who thought to use me was near to pissing himself before the screaming even started. Behind me, Lady stepped forward like an inevitable force with her knife and I smiled. “Let’s talk about a new agreement, shall we?”

The amount of screaming and horror in the act behind me pleased me so much that I decided I’d have to fuck Lady’s latex cunt before I could even continue my day, once we were done here together. And then of course, I’d have to prepare her for further modifying the next day. I had a list of potential latex modifications running through my mind. Part of me wanted to make a band on her forehead, of seamless black adhesion, like a slave’s crown.

And the delightful thing was the knowledge that there was nothing she could do about it. My slave would never again be able to even think of resistance, I knew. Months later, I went on to start a line of snuff films featuring Lady in her latex suits, performing the most grotesque acts for those who would want to watch them. And she earned a lot of money, as it turned out, so much so that I gifted her with a percentage of it to do with it as she pleased.

She bought me gifts, heinous twisted little gifts. I came home one night to a bought slave waiting for me, bound and offered up for my torture enjoyment. When she was dead, Lady fucked me in the blood and made a wind chime out of bones. Her empty eyes never returned to that sweetness and I kept her as a trophy at my side.

My lovely Lady. She was the closest to love I had ever gotten, I suppose, and she joined me in the darkness. One act of depravity begets another and it corrupted her soul as deep as a human soul could be desecrated.