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Introduction:

A continuance of Innevitable Insanity
I couldn’t help but think of my therapist as I lied in my cold twin hospital bed that night. He had asked me that one simple question. “And what about relationships, anyone tickle your fancy in your life of education?” Yet, this question was not as simple as it seemed. What he had asked was, on the surface at least, a harmless question about the potential suitors in my life. But what he had asked was really just a way for him to dig into what was left of my soul, to uncover whatever it was that made me so hostile, so… broken.

Dr. Vansatch had an entire file filled with information. He knew about my childhood abuse. He knew about my troubled life as a teen, having been picked up by the police on more than one occasion. He knew about my PTSD and all the medical diagnoses done on me. What he didn’t know, was the breaking point. I could envision him pondering this detail with his fat fingers stroking his chubby, middle aged bearded face. He didn’t have the slightest idea how I could have held myself together so well throughout the years, and then suddenly, lose it.

If he could figure it out, I could be cured. Unfortunately for him, he would never have the chance to know; as I wasn’t even sure of it myself. I had gone so long, living a life full of pain and suffering, some of it by choice. I had gone so long with a distorted image of myself; I didn’t even understand the trauma until it was too late. I had gone completely mad.

As I pondered the events that led up to my impending demise, my mind wandered. I found myself thinking once again of the night I met Damon. Shortly after roughing me up, Damon had promised me an even I wouldn’t soon forget, and he was right. I remember feeling my right eye swelling up as I pulled on the last piece of my leather ensemble, a black leather vest with a zipper down the middle, and a piece of leather fabric that could hardly be called a skirt. Damon had made sure that my bra and underwear were safely tucked away in his canvas bag of mysteries.

“Alright sweet cheeks, are you ready for something you’ll never forget?” Damon asked with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Does it look like I really have a choice?” I asked, un-amused. Damon grinned and tore my body from the small bedroom, doubling as a changing room that night. I cringed as I was whisked away through the house. I could feel every eye on me as Damon led me forcefully through the rather large home. It seemed like the house stretched for miles on end as I was led through corridor after corridor.

Finally, we stopped. Damon had led me to yet another closed door, in a house that seemed to be full of millions.

“Now you listen, and you listen good sugar tits.” Damon began in a deadly hiss. “Once we enter the basement and I get things set up, you’re going to do everything I say. You got that?”

I simply nodded my head in response. Damon, apparently satisfied with my meager response, opened the door and led me down a path that would bring fear, pain, sex, and excitement.


All eyes were on me as Damon began to tie intricate knots with a soft red rope from his canvas bag of mysteries. He wound the rope around my arms, my chest, then down my hips and eventually around my feet. Every once in a while Damon would catch my in a cold gaze. His green eyes met my icy blue gaze and I could see the glimmer of sadism in his eyes. I was scared. I was frightened of the things I might experience that night. Based on everything I’d encountered in the bondage, domination, sadomasochism community, which wasn’t much mind you, it was a world full of torture and sex.

I could just feel the sharp sting of a flogger licking my flesh in quick bursts. I could imagine Damon’s colossal hands as they wrapped around my fair skinned throat. I was terrified, but if I wanted a shower, if I wanted a meal, and if I wanted a night to escape the below zero streets of Colorado, it was a price I was going to have to pay.

“If I could just have everyone’s attention please,” Damon began, speaking in a slow, but clear voice. What few gazes that weren’t traveling along my leather covered body, shifted towards Damon as he finished tying the last knot around my ankles.

“This is my lovely assistant, Casper. As many of you know, my name is Damon, and I am your BDSM connoisseur for the evening.” Damon began. The hands of the twisted society members before me were brought together in a wave of applause that shook me to my core.

“Also, as many of you know, I am a well-known performer in this community. I have hosted many suspensions, play parties, as well as many other social sexual events. I usually prefer to have slimmer blonde assistants, but I thought a change was due. Hence, this lovely dark haired beauty before us.” Damon crooned. I gulped as people of both male and female gender practically drooled over me. What was Damon going to do? Let them circle me like buzzards before closing in for a kill?

“Tonight I am going to perform something new. I’ve been dying to try it out. We all have our fetishes, but who here believes themselves to be truly hardcore?” Damon asked. Many of the people in the dank, musty basement nodded their heads in agreement. Damon laughed mockingly.

“No, no, no, no, no I want to know who the real sick motherfuckers in this joint are. I want to know how many of you feel you have the gumption to get a rock hard cock at the sight of this exquisite, voluptuous lady in unbearably, horrifying pain.” Damon challenged. Many of the people in the room simply stared at Damon, either unsure or too afraid to answer Damon’s dare. As Damon removed his black blazer, leaving him in a nice pair of black slacks with a form fitted black t-shirt to match, four people moved towards the front of the crowd.

“I’m going to make you folks a deal. You all claim to be immersed in this community as lovers of hardcore sex. But, how far are you actually willing to go?” Damon asked. The four men who moved to the front proclaimed their ability to handle anything in unison.

“Excellent. Which of you gentlemen are experienced in needle play?” Damon inquired. Only one of the men raised their hands. He was a stalky man, completely naked and pale. He was creepy, in a serial killer way.

“Huh, for those of you four who say you’re truly sick, surely you’ve all had some experience?” Damon asked as he ran a large hand through his short, black, curly hair. The crowd before us laughed and the three remaining shook their heads.

“Very well, this should be interesting then.” Damon said as he walked towards his canvas bag of horrors and pulled out a metal container. Once positioned to the side of me he unlatched the case to reveal three very sharp looking syringes. My body immediately shook with fear, as I knew Damon would attempt to convince these four men to inject me with whatever substances were inside of these syringes.

Each syringe was capped with a different color, making it seem as though each of them were a different substance.

“Alright you fucks, two of these are filled with water, the third is filled with a substance that is only known to me. It could be harmless, and it could be not.” Damon explained in a voice so calm it was almost threatening. I could feel the terror rising within me as thoughts of death swam in my mind. The four men in front looked at each other confused.

“I am hardcore enough that I could handle murder, but could any of you four?” Damon challenged, insanity sparking in his emerald eyes. The four men glanced around uneasily at the room, some people gave encouraging motions, others could only watch in suspense as these four men made their decision.

I felt relieved when three of the men took a step back towards the crowd, refusing to potentially cause a death. But one remained… the tall naked creep. I wanted to scream for this to stop, I didn’t want to be part of this deadly charade, but my voice had escaped me just as it had years ago when my father stole my innocence from me.

“You’re a balsy bastard. I like that.” Damon flashed a white toothed grin at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Chris.” The serial killer claimed. It was a fitting name for someone like him.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you Chris. Now here’s my deal, I’m going to allow you to choose one of these needles to inject into the lovely Casper. Guess right, and she’ll be fine. Guess wrong, and her blood is on your hands.” Damon said collectively. Chris merely shrugged his shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the severity of the situation.

“Please, stop this!” I screamed in protest. I didn’t want to die, and I didn’t want to stand by while someone played Russian roulette with my life. Damon turned his half crazed gaze to me before snatching my throat up in the forceful grip of his hand. I gasped as the oxygen escaped my lungs, and my esophagus began to collapse.

“Now, now Casper. You know the rules, only speak when spoken to!” Damon commanded. “Do you hear me you filthy slut?” I nodded in response.

“Uh uh, that’s not good enough. Yes, what?” Damon prodded as he winked at me away from the many gazes in the room.

“Yes sir,” I responded immediately. I felt almost a sense of comfort in that small gesture made by Damon in that instant. However, I could still see that ravenous look in his eyes as Chris chose the syringe with the Easter egg purple cap.

“Interesting choice,” Damon said casually. Not a breath escaped the lips of those in the room, staring with horrified looks on their faces.

“Are you ready?” Damon asked.

“Man, you’re fucking crazy.” Chris uttered, as he slipped the cap off of the syringe.

“I’m the crazy one, says the man with a syringe potentially filled with the most deadly substance known to man.” Damon cockily replied. The confidence that had wafted from Chris up to this point suddenly failed him as he stared uncertainly at the syringe. You could see the questions dancing in his mind. What if Damon was telling the truth and there really was a deadly substance in one of these syringes? If so, what would happen if Chris had chosen the wrong one? How would he explain the death to the police? So many questions, so many… hesitations; Chris would never be able to answer.

“Well, go on!” Damon shouted, a streak of madness coating his usually honey like voice. Chris’s hands began to shake as he looked from me to the syringe, and then back to me again.

Finally, Chris made his decision. He delicately placed the purple cap back on the syringe, making sure to return it to its place within the metal case. Damon snapped the case shut and the audience jumped. The silence in the room was overbearing, lasting for an infinite amount of time.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Damon began once more. All eyes were fixated on Damon as he unzipped my leather vest, exposing my large breasts.

“The act which you have just witnessed is all just a part of a new show that I am building. All of the syringes were filled with water, and I can assure you, no harm would befall this beautiful woman. Let’s give a round of applause to Chris and to my lovely assistant. I hope the fear and suspense has aroused you all, and I wish you a night full of debauchery and sin!” Damon proclaimed. A few seconds passed and the basement was lit up with applause. Even those who had begun to truly fear the situation were astounded by this as they cheered.

I wave a relief washed over me as people began leaving the basement, and others began to fuck right there on the cold hard floor. Once those who needed to dispersed and the rest were distracted, Damon returned to me. He grabbed my chest, and began to run his thumbs along my hardened nipples.

“Did that excite you sweet cheeks?” Damon asked. That caused me to pause for a moment. I wanted to say no, to scream at him and ask him what the hell his problem was. I wanted to call him a sick mother fucker, and to tell him to get lost; but he was right. My blood was heated, and moisture pooled between my legs underneath of my barely there leather skirt.

“I’m going to break your back, and push your shit in.” Damon whispered in my ear before leading me back up stairs to the room we had been in before. It was a struggle, as Damon had conveniently forgotten to remove the bondage ropes from my body. Once in the room, Damon forced me onto the queen bed and crawled on top of me.

Leaning in close Damon whispered in my ear, “Whenever I tell you to do something, you’re going to obey. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” was my response. Damon untied my body from the ropes, and retied my hands to the bed posts. Damon licked my ear and begun kissing my neck gently as he ran his hand up my thigh and closer to my throbbing mound. He began moving his hand, in and out, in and out. My breath started increasing as the motion increased in speed. I was scared, but I didn’t want him to stop. It just felt so good.

With each thrust, Damon added a finger. Soon his entire fist was forced into me, before continuing to ram into me. I was on the verge of cumming when Damon retracted his hand, which was now spattered with my feminine juices. He removed his black T-shirt and slacks, as well as his shoes, underwear and socks, leaving him completely naked. His enormous rock hard cock hung before him, and seeing the look on my face, raised an eyebrow in triumph.

“You like what you see you filthy whore?” Damon asked. I didn’t respond, and I was immediately struck in the face by Damon’s strong hand.

“Did you fucking here me?” Damon asked as he grabbed a fistful of my short brunette hair and slammed my head against the headboard of the bed. I could feel the pain reeling throughout my body.

“Yes sir,” I moaned, in a voice that was barely audible. Damon smiled in a wicked way.

“That’s what I thought.” Damon said, as he thrust his erection into my sopping wet pussy. I cried out in pleasure as I was penetrated by every inch of this mad man. I was caught up in the ecstasy of the situation when Damon began to choke me. His firm grip around my throat, cutting off my air supply made me want him that much more. I was enjoying this forceful invasion. I was getting lost in the sensations, pain, pleasure, and back to pain again.

Throaty growls escaped Damon’s lips as he rammed into me again and again. Each time his cock slid into me, I could feel it going deeper and deeper. Every other stroke I screamed in pain as he forced his way in too deep. I begged him to stop, but that only made him harder.

“I want you to fucking cum on my dick you fucking bitch.” Damon commanded. What I didn’t think was possible at first, suddenly crept up on me. I could feel an orgasm building up, starting with my feet and working its way up. I was paralyzed from the waist down, but Damon kept pounding me.

“Oh god I’m cumming, oh fuck!” I cried. Right as I climaxed Damon wrapped his hands around my throat, completely cutting off my air supply. As the pleasure of my orgasm began to fade, I could feel Damon thickening within me, getting ready to have an experience all his own. Stars began to dance across my vision as Damon came inside me. I couldn’t tell how much cum was mine, and how much was his. My squirt poured from me, drenching both the bed and Damon.
“Yeah you fucking slut, fucking take my fucking cum!” Damon bellowed. I could feel myself fading, as Damon kept me from taking a breath. Darkness over ran my vision, and blackness swirled around me. My body began to go numb, and my lungs wailed for oxygen. Then I faded away, leaving nothing but pain and sorrow in my wake.

The end…. For now.
81 comments

Anonymous readerReport

2014-03-08 02:59:17
Two people can keep a secret but only if one of them is dead. While a handful of people might be willing to countenance murder, a roomful will not. By pushing them to his limit Damon revealed that he is insane and insanity is disavowed amount the BDSM community. The reason for that is simple: it is not the master who holds the power; but the sub and the resin for that is equally simple: Only the sub has the safe word.

That being said, few people want to die and only an insane person would engage a scene with a crazy person because they don't follow the rules that are designed to enhance pleasure for both parties while minimizing danger to the participants. In other words one moment you could be enjoying a healthy scenario the next, fighting for your life. Or perhaps suffer permanent damage to one of more body parts. Imagine being a 40 yr old and having to wear a diaper because you have a prolapsed rectum from being fisted. Not much fun.

Anonymous readerReport

2014-02-22 19:28:52
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2014-02-22 19:27:22
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Anonymous readerReport

2014-02-22 19:27:22
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Anonymous readerReport

2014-02-22 19:27:21
i think i seen this video before over at girlychat.at.vu and it was in HD

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