The text said, “I need to Suffer.” I perked up. My interest was certainly sparked. I waited for the circling dots to become words, anxious to read more. Then came the rush of begging. He pleaded for an extreme session. He wanted pain, anguish, humiliation, and fire.

My mind raced with the possibilities but I didn’t get My hopes up yet. Most of these messages amount to nothing, but I replied, “When?” He said he could be here in two hours. He professed his intentions, said he was dead serious, and wanted to Worship Me in agony. He added that he wanted to wear My scent home and immerse himself in Me to perpetuate the memory, then live in chastity until he returns for More.

My excitement grew and I set My plan into action. I gathered My most devastating tools, shined My chain whip, and polished My cane. I sterilized My stainless steel sounds and filled My torch with butane. I was ready to bring the pain. In his texts, he requested cigarette burns but I don’t smoke nicotine, such a nasty stinky habit and I do not have a death wish. I think mister make-me-suffer does, though and I aimed to take him to the edge. I told him I can do better than cigarettes. If he wants to burn, I assured him I would light him up, then drench the flames with Golden Showers.

I still doubted that he would have the nerve to follow through. I had seen it more times than I could count. It had just happened the day before. It’s common for a sub to text Me with a litany about how much he wants to serve Me, to kneel and endure My severity. Then I suppose he jerks off and forgets his promises. Still, I readied the dungeon in hopes that he meant what he said.

He didn’t let Me down. The doorbell chimed right on time. He fell to the floor and kissed My feet. I studied his face and I smiled in recognition. I smirked, “I know you,” while I wrapped a choke collar around his throat. He looked up and answered, “Yes, Mistress. I was one of your subs when you first started but after you moved to a different town and Backpage went under, I couldn’t find you. There was never anyone better so I was overjoyed when I finally discovered your website.”

I thought to Myself, “That's Dynamite!” It was time to make his dreams real so I pulled him behind Me into the playroom and chained him to the wall. I shredded his clothes with a brutally sharp knife, baring his skin to My evil will. I started with a heavy leather flogger, painting his skin a vivid crimson. I got him good and warm with My winding figure-eight pattern, a slow build of intensity. Next came the chain whip. Time to make it hurt. Suffering he wanted and suffering he would get. I lashed his flesh, leaving bright marks in My wake.

He didn’t say a word. Yes, he was breathing heavy, but beyond a few sighs, he remained silent. Hmmm. I wanted him to scream so I grabbed My cane to ramp up the pain. I reared back and hit him hard. He grunted but still no screams. I pelted him from top to his juicy bottom. Strikes decorated his physique. I ran My nails through the welts so that waves of mutilation consumed him. He whispered, “MMMMM.” Nothing more. Well, he clearly needed more torture so I stripped him from the door and threw him on the bed.

I put him on his stomach and whacked his ass with My metal studded paddle. When his skin was hot to the touch I rolled him to his back and started My sounding attack. First I used My smooth steel sound and slipped it down his peehole. He whimpered with delight as I slid the metal in and out of his slit. He liked it a lot, so I switched out the smooth steel for a beveled, textured tool. I thought, “Let’s see how he likes this one,” but apparently he loved it. More happy groans; his head tossed from side to side, but he was smiling. I decided it was time to make him burn.

I warned, “You wanted cigarette burns but I’ve got something better.” I showed him My nectar collector. “I’m going to get the end of this red hot then stick you with it.” He looked expectant, excited, hopeful. He meant it when he said he needed to suffer. He was looking forward to it, so I didn’t make him wait. I was looking forward to it too. I wanted to see his reaction, observe his agony. The torch hissed and soon the end of My pipe was red, fucking hot. I let it cool a mere three seconds then touched it to his balls. Perfect little white circles dotted his sack. My sub sucked his teeth but still no screams. Well, Well, Well, he wasn’t lying when he said he craved torture. Why not give him More? I blazed the end of the pipe again and this time I pressed it to the base of his penis. His eyes grew wide but he kept his words inside. More circles, more pain, but he remained pretty quiet.

I was frustrated. I said, “Doesn’t it hurt?” He said, “Yes.” One word. That was it. I was going to have My fun one way or another so I sat on his face and tightened the collar on his neck. I was tired of that heavy breathing so he wouldn’t breathe at all. Not for a few minutes anyway. I didn’t plan to kill him but I wanted him to wonder. He was turning blue so I released the collar and ordered him to “Eat Me out.” He dove into My cunt, his tongue flicking and licking. Now I was really having fun. I bounced on his face, using his mouth to My satisfaction. I felt the tension mounting in My core and soon I was drenching him in My cum. I let go and pissed on his head, his chest, his dick. I watered him like a garden and refused to let him wipe it off. I mocked, “I’m not going to let you shower. You wanted to wear My scent home so your wish will come true.”

I grabbed his cock, stroking it viciously. I taunted, “This is the last time you will cum for a while. You’re going to be in chastity and only orgasm when you’re here with Me.” The notion drove him wild and he exploded all over himself. I made him rub his spunk into his skin, mixing with My urine. He was sticky from head to toe, but it’s what he wanted. I praised him for his endurance, his ability to take My brutality, and his grace under pressure. I made a make-shift chastity cage from rubber bands until he could buy one and sent him home, a sub-space, giddy mess. Before he left, he bowed and declared, “You are still the Best. I didn’t think you could get any meaner but you did and I worship you for it.” I giggled, “Thanks, now get out.” Evil. That’s Me. I’ll make you Suffer beautifully. Love ya, Mean it, Muah!


Call Me on

Fall under the Spell of My Southern Charm


  1. Thank you for featuring this story. You are Awesome!


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