Nightmare Master

One more content warning :). This part has things like needle play, branding, noncon, heavy pain play, anal sex, and total power exchange. It's still a romance, still Sadist/masochist, and still happily dark. I hope you enjoy and have fun!

Nynaeve

Ash dressed me again on Friday and I was in a mentally dark, strange place, one I'd never been to before. These games with him had an odd factor of making me feel like I was discovering a deeper level of force and submission. My cane tracks had mostly faded over the days and the pain was gone by then, although I wished I had it again because it was strangely comforting to be sore like that, to feel clear. It had been a reminder that I could survive that much and that I was a bad little demon masochist.

I didn't feel so demonic anymore when Ash was fixing me with Master's outfit of choice, although it did give me a minor distraction with how gorgeous it made me look. It was another black dress, one that crawled in a lace pattern over my breasts and up my clavicle, although it ended there in a sleeveless cut. The feeling of having my shoulders bare made me feel vulnerable, in some strange way. I glanced back at Ash when he tied it at the back and he smiled at me. "Pretty little slave bunny. Here. One last touch." My ears. He fixed the cute black bunny ears on my head and I had to smile nervously. "Come on. Let's go and put you out of your misery."

Misery was right and the reminder ended the distraction the dress had given me. I was terrified and I strangely didn't know what to do about that fact. I had always been the eager pain lover, the one who could take anything, and I'd never met my match before. I was well freaking aware that I had met it now.

And it took for bloody ever to get to his house, with a nice, quiet car ride to dwell on that fact. 45 minutes is a long damned time with enough fear. I looked out the window of Ash's car, feeling like a caged pet, and he kept mostly silent, letting me sit in tortured submission, of a sort. The fear made everything sharper, clearer, in some weird sense. I started when we passed a gate into a neighborhood that made my eyes go wide. "Ash, why are we here? Why are we passing that gate?"

He smiled. "Because we're almost to his place, why do you think?"

No. Oh, dear God, what the hell was this? I was going to a house in a gated community outside of my large city? Why the hell was I doing that? "This isn't right. I can't do this."

He snorted. "Why?"

"Look around you! The only people who live here are upper fucking class! I'm a broke law school student."

Ash's smile was dry. "Oh, that's the deal breaker for the guy who caned you so hard you bled?"

"Yes!" That was a totally different sphere than kinky games. There was that kind of power exchange and then there was real life power, a fact that was highlighted to me when Ash pulled into a massive house that made my eyes go wide. There was a wrap around driveway inside another security gate and he already had the windows down to buzz us entrance into the house since the day was so breezy for once. I felt on the verge of panic when he parked, and it had nothing to do with the original reason. "No, seriously, this is messed up. I can't do this. Why the hell is someone like him interested in someone like me when I'm, to reiterate it, a scruffy ass law student, Ash! And why-"

"I can think of a few reasons why." The voice was soft, but it made me yelp with terror anyway after his "romantic date" and I cowered, looking up to where he leaned over the car. He had one hand resting over the top of it and casually rested his head against it to talk down at me.

But the thing that stunned me was how he wasn't wearing a mask. I stared up at him and you would think that having the outline of his face, along with his hair color, his coal eyes, and his deviant smile would have been enough to brace me for the picture of him in full.

It wasn't, as it turned out. No, all that had definitely not been enough to give the full effect of how his cruel tendencies seemed to settle in his features in a way that wasn't immediately describable. It was in these little things, like how sharp his features were, how his eyes were framed with a hint of sadistic laughter around the edges. And his hair was stark set against his hairline in this way... "I can't think of any," I finally whispered.

He stroked a finger across one of my bunny ears and I shuddered in a sense of danger. "No? Not even one?"

"There has to be, like, a million other maso sluts that would be interested in you! Look at you! It can't just be that, it can't."

He smiled. "There haven't been any as pure as you in my experience. Yours is a gift that I think is special, one that makes it feel like you come with your own built in self torture. You truly hate it... and love that you hate it. It's frightening at times, actually, knowing you won't stop me, that the terrible things I do won't be so much that they prevent you from coming even here for an entire weekend. Beyond that, Honey, there are still other things." He paused, then smiled one of those strangely shy smiles. "I have never wanted a wife or a partner and have always wanted a slave, for instance. A lot of masochists hard enough for what I like aren't into the kinds of 24/7 and absolute control I want. A lot of slaves aren't into the hard torture I like. You're the first that's seemed close to both, believe it or not. I could be wrong, but I'd like to find out and hoped you might want to as well."

He said it so calmly and readily, owning what he was looking for without hiding from it. Torture and total slavery. I shuddered at how easy it was for him to say it, at how calm his voice was. Now that I considered it, there had been only one thing that moved him to any kind of excitement thus far and that was my begging him to stop. That moan above me when I'd told him it hurt and I hated it, though... That had been the thing of my hottest nightmares. "You haven't been very forceful over the slavery thing so far," I finally said softly.

His smile widened. "The torture is what most people can't get past and what's ruined the other relationships. I thought I'd try a different approach this time and start with it... but I promise that the slavery is a total thing for me."

I shivered. "Oh, no, you mean it. I'm an approach for a relationship, aren't I? That's where this is headed and it isn't some game for you now, is it?"

He stroked a finger across my collar charm. "It was a game, actually. Now, it's not." He paused, then added. "In the sense of a relationship, I should warn you that the slavery part has never been a game for me. It's my life. I feel as if it was a mistake getting married the last time and it's not something I would want to try again. I come with a collar and not a ring, not again. There is no wedding with me, no equal footing, no ceremonies." He paused. "That being said, I've thought for long hours over ways I could give a slave a kind of security in things like finances, for instance, if they did want out. But no more of that specific kind of security. It confuses my partners and it wouldn't be like that."

You know, I had to appreciate the way he said all that too, outright and forthcoming, with no pretenses. But there was more to it as well. That real form of stark terror from his romance before solidified into something rather transcendent in nature with the knowledge that he was interested in me. I had a feeling that couldn't mean good things for my weekend, that this would be a trial of some kind. I stared up at him and knew I was going to hate this, knew he was going to make my life a nightmare. Everything from his soft, direct smile to the way he waited for me to reply said so.

"Why me?"

"Because of how you make me feel," he answered quietly and, again, it was direct, no hiding. "I've spent nights hating myself sometimes. And then you come along, little rabbit, and you have the kind of extreme, dark masochism that I could condition into something truly twisted... and your masochism loves that thought, too." He stroked down my hair, his eyes both adoring and terrifying. "And you're so happy anyway, even with those awful, dark lusts. You ride the adrenaline wave so recklessly and you love it. It makes me happy in a way I would like a little more of in my day to day life."

Holy shit. He meant it. I stared up at him, thinking that logic through, wondering at how he made me feel, if it was something I'd want in my day to day life. Because, now that I considered it, that was the best reason to want to date someone that I'd ever heard in my life. I thought of sitting at his knees, thought of how stable he was, how he so calmly let me chatter myself out over the silliest obsessions, how he listened with quiet attention that eventually calmed me, how he gave me the darkest thrill rushes I'd ever had even with that calmness and how it seemed to balance my hyperactivity out somehow. And the answer was yes. I did like how he made me feel.

I liked it an awful lot, even if I hated the things he did, even if that was the point of some of the things he did. Because he got it. He got me. He understood. "I don't know what to say."

He laughed softly. "I assure you that you don't have to. You're all on the surface, Honey, and an easy enough read." He lowered the hand that rested on top of the car, showing me the red rose he held. "Come and play with me?"

I looked back to Ash, who merely waited, and he shrugged at me as if to say, "Your choice." And then I looked up behind Master at the massive house behind him. "Er. One last thing before that." Master nodded me to go on and I burst out, "What the fuck do you do that you live here?"

He laughed. "Perhaps it would comfort you to hear it from Ash."

I turned around and Ash gave me a dry stare. "He's a partner in Ballistics Weapon Designing. Er. He helped build it from the ground up actually. And now..." He gestured. "From my understanding, they're reliable for firearm exports and they're all over the cutting edge research and development."

I looked up at him, whispering, "Woah."

To which, he opened my passenger door and held out his hand. For a long moment, I just stared at it, trying to process what I was getting ready to do, thinking,

This is such a bad idea

, even while I had a mental image of an angel falling from grace. And then I took his hand. He turned around with me one more time and that time Ash was staring at him with a hard look. Whatever it meant, Master didn't give anything away. He stayed quiet and waved, holding me to his side with one protective - caging - hand around my waist. I followed where he led, in a state of shock, and he guided me up the path, through the front door while I wondered at the pins and needles sensation that was crawling up my legs. My God, it was like riding a roller coaster.

I wasn't even on the fucking coaster yet. Fear was this thing alive and I think I really appreciated him the most in that moment, for how he was. Because I'd had things like a caning before so it wasn't always what he did. It was the way he did them. Right then, for instance, he stopped me in the doorway and tilted my head up to look at him, his thumb soft on my jaw. And the action wouldn't have been so damned arousing if he hadn't had such blatant force and violence as a shadow presence even in those smallest gestures. Whatever he saw made him smile wryly. "I was going to offer to show you around, but you wouldn't take it in at all right now. Instead of that, then, you'll have to forgive me for how bad of a host and Master this makes me. But let's give you some mercy and put you out of your misery."

It actually took him guiding me through the dungeon door before I realized what he was talking about, and then I felt like an idiot. And it wasn't even really a dungeon.

It was a motherfucking torture chamber. And I had thought it would be bad, but he blew my world apart within ten minutes. Because it was spectacularly, wonderfully, beautifully horrible.

————

I shifted, in a strangely almost comfortable rack and stock setup. He'd started with the bondage and, like before, it was the kind of bondage that didn't care about my willing submission, the kind that drove me the most wild. A kind of slat setup held me cradled beneath my waist so that I was bent forward over it, tied down with a harness wrapped around my waist and, once again, that harness held an inflated toy in my ass. This time, it had a strange second tube beside the inflation pump and he had fed that into an IV stand, something that made me truly horrified until I realized it was empty and nothing was actually being fed into my bowels. The headfuck of it merely amused him enough for him to leave it there, so that I shivered in terror whenever the tube brushed against my ass with my shifting, with the thought that I was rendered so helpless that he could fill my bowels with whatever he wanted through that IV, if he desired to torture me like that. It gave me a twisted, whimpering gratitude with every second that he didn't use it, even with everything else that he did.

But beyond that my torso was left bare, my head and wrists locked in a wide stock. Even stranger was the stirrups that held my knees apart in cradles, safe in my bent position. It was far kinder than I'd expected of his bondage when he could have made me truly uncomfortable.

I didn't trust it and I was right to not trust it. I stared down at the slats that held me, where my tits were left free for him to... have his fun with. Cold sweat on the small of my back still made me shiver. He'd been so calm and icy, even while his eyes blazed with that excitement, when he came back with wide eyed forceps and clamped the base of my nipples with them. When he'd turned around with the small metal hammer like thing and the massive hollow point needle, I'd finally broken and begged. "No, please!"

And he'd smiled, only to twistedly kiss my cheek where the tears had started, then held up the hollow point for me to see it better, to see how it formed a kind of eye screw that would close the metal into a strange piercing, although not one intended to be worn for a long period of time. I couldn't seem to close my eyes when he positioned it with the eye of the forceps and I stared down, in a kind of horror, beneath the stocks in my limited view. I could just see enough for him to abruptly shift with that small metal, barbaric hammer, and then it hit.

There's this roller coaster called the Top Thrill Dragster and the way it works, the train stops at a stop light and it waits there at the bottom of a 420 foot incline and drop. Then the light goes red, yellow, and once it hits green, the train goes from 0 to 120 mph in 4 fucking seconds. When the hammer hit the massive needle through my nipple, the pain slammed through me sharp and hard, and then it felt like the adrenaline throttled like that roller coaster, except in one second, instead of four.

The end result was that I gave an erotic scream of horror and then couldn't stop a mad laugh of shock at just how sharp the pain was. He watched me, with a pleased smile at what he obviously considered such a fulfilling reaction, while he went to work on the other nipple, giving it the same attention - to the sound of another scream and laugh - before he fixed the eye screws on both and removed the forceps. That's when he paused to stroke a finger down my cheek. "See how much fun I can be? Let's make it more fun." And that had just been his bondage.

Hell or heaven, I couldn't tell what I was in anymore. I shifted in the stocks again and then moaned when he came back with the hooks... and containers. Once again, it was deliberately barbaric, and he stroked one of the hooks down my cheek while I quivered in dread. "Please, don't, please..." Except the words were breathless and weak and there wasn't any real protest anymore. I was riding one hell of a wave still, one that turned the pain into something truly wild.

"How cute. I think I will." And the hooks he hung at the pierced eye screws were heavy, but they weren't all that bad. Even the containers he hung from those weren't overly terrible, but I got the gist of it, that this wasn't where this ended.

And it wasn't. It got bad when he came back with water. He laughed in excitement when I whined in dread, tears flowing down my cheeks, and he set the water to the side to tug the weird containers instead so that I yelped when his yanking sent shots of pain up through my breasts. Which sounds terrible in those words and it was terrible. But it was the weirdest kind of terrible, after that flood of adrenaline, that sharp shock to my system. I squeaked with his tugs, but couldn't keep from smiling either. I even shook my head to try to get the expression from my face, knowing it would only entice him and his sadism, but I just couldn't get rid of it. God, my tits felt maimed and it hurt so bad and I couldn't stop that damned smile. He stopped to caress my cheek, his thumb brushing the tears beneath my eyes, and he lifted the water with his other hand, soothing me with his strange brand of condescending shushes. "Take deep breaths. I know, it's so awful of me, isn't it? We'll go nice and slow with the weight since I'm feeling so nice today. I could be so mean and use some of the largest weights on the hooks. Be a polite little pain slave and say, 'Thank you, Master, for going slow'."

He was awful! The worst! We both knew that was such bullshit. He was going slow so he could enjoy every quiver of agony I gave him and he knew that the sudden bursts of weight would be better with another sharp shock to overload me, damn him. It made me moan from how his words drowned me in a flood of submission, even while I was flying on the wings of adrenaline, this wild ride mix that made me burn alive until all that was left was a freed, hurting, horny little slave bunny. I bowed my head and breathed the words eagerly. "Thank you, Master, for going slow."

"Good girl." His words were a coo of pure ecstatic delight and I shuddered at how much he took joy in breaking me. He lifted my face again with a thumb under my jaw, forcing me to look at him, and I started shaking. Jesus, that smile, the way his eyes blazed. He leaned closer, flicking his tongue out to lick my lips and I pant with a hunger I didn't know I was capable of. "Are you a little filthy rape bunny?" His hand tightened around my jaw and I couldn't keep from a breathless laugh of fear.

"Yes, Master." It came out a whisper and he smiled back, abruptly snapping his teeth at me so I shrieked and he laughed at the response.

"If I stroked up your cunt, would you be drenched from this, from me torturing you?" That time he slapped my cheek when I hesitated, a light little sting that made me thrilled.

"Yes!"

His laughter was wicked where he crouched in front of me and he lifted the pitcher of water, letting it pour out slowly into the weird container pierced to my nipple, making it slowly, but surely, heavier... and heavier. "Then you probably want more pain."

He held my gaze and watched while he poured more weight so that my breasts started to tug downward in something that made me cry all the harder and then he poured more... and more...

And even after that he still wasn't done. He left me with the hellish weight on my tits and paced around behind me to where my pussy felt suddenly very exposed. He stroked the IV tube to the side, reminding me of its presence so that I shuddered, and, sure enough, he walked away to grab two sets of clover clamps. "You liked these so much last time that it seems like such a good idea to splay you open with them again." I had to grit my teeth when he went to work, clamping me the exact same way he had last time and by that time, I lifted my head back as best I could and my eyes rolled back in the darkest ecstasy. My lips parted when he tugged the pussy clamps apart, yanking on the chain just to be mean and cause me pain.