The slight rattling of chains permeates the air of an otherwise silent room. The sound echoes off the blood stained cobble floor and the pristinely polished metal and wood.

Suddenly, a thick metal door swings open, revealing Mistress, a girlish grin seeping onto her face.

“Mmm my darling, vat vould you have me do to you today?” She giggles slightly as she saunters into the room, high heels clacking across the floor.

Chained up to the ceiling is the man; ribs poking out from lack of food and cracked lips, lined with blood from lack of drink, who looks up wearily at Mistress.

“…Iron maiden” He decides after a short moment of thought.

Her grin grows wider as the sweet memories of his screams come to mind. She definitely enjoyed his voice when in such a device, plus, the after effects were exquisite for her lips.

Sauntering around the room, she opens up her ‘little madchën’ as she liked to call it, and gave a quick look at how clean the insides were.

Feeling happy with the pristineness, she loosens the chains on the man, dropping him to the floor.

He stands up, and with a resigned yet slightly defiant look, walks into ‘little madchën’.

With a slightly confused look at him, she slowly closes the spiked door, hearing loud screams rise from the inside.

She is confused because even though it has been a month, she still doesn’t understand this person in the slightest; he screams and cries and wails, but never does he say stop. To her it is almost as if he enjoys it, but the screams of pleasure and the screams of pain are very distinct in her well trained ears.

While the wails of pure pain fill the room, she ponders silently about why the man still had that determined look in his eyes, as if his reason to stay so was not to escape, but rather something else she did not understand.

Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she reprimands herself for wasting time thinking about her pets, for that is all he is to her; a pet for her to play with as she pleases.

The screams lessen, to the point of silence and Mistress stands up, looking for a bucket.

Finding one in the corner, she places it at the side of the door and then swings it open.

Deftly moving the bucket towards the man, it is quickly filled with his sweet smelling blood that poured from hundreds of holes.

The man, impaled on the spikes, remains motionless, his chest pumping slightly with life.

She very much enjoyed this part of him; he was nigh upon unkillable and she made sure to keep him at an inch of his life; so that he recovers within a miraculous twenty minutes.

No matter what she did to him, within twenty minutes he would be good as new. A toy that she could keep breaking? It is a wet dream come true to her.

Slowly taking the man out of little madchën, she places him on a rack and ties him up.

Heating up a small strip of steel at a small fire elemental powered forge, she places the bright white sizzling steel onto one of the man’s many fresh wounds.

The sizzling accompanies the screams of the man and delightfully, she slaps the steel on the other wounds as if playing a game.

Soon, many are sealed and she unties the man, to which he turns over, and ties him once more.

Repeating the process, pained screams bounce around the room, bringing her much joy.

The process is quickly finished and the man lies panting on the rack while a slight heavy breath comes from her, mostly from the slight ecstasy from hearing pained moans escape the man’s lips.

Not wanting her enjoyment to end, she walks up to the wheel and turns it a small bit; stretching the man and opening up every wound she just sealed .

Reheating the steel, she repeats the process with much joy. However she remains vigilant on how much she stretches the man, mostly due to the fact that last time she over-stretched him, he had burst into two and she had feared his death.

That was one of the few moments this month when she had brought him to the brink of death, and had been amazed and aroused by his virility to cling to life.

The process of re-sealing his wounds lasted a few more times, till she recognized he would burst apart if she stretched him anymore.

Taking a gleaming knife from her ample bosom, she begins to slowly drag the knife on his skin, towards her.

His skin curled up into a little roll as she sliced the knife towards her, and with a small pang of hunger, she nibbles on the strip of skin, licking her lips at the entrancing taste.

Beginning with his arms, she soon reveals his hard muscles but leaves them along for the time being.

His wails fill her ear and with that kind of verbal motivation, she skins him with renewed fervor.

She shows her skills by skinning him in long, unbroken strips; which she dips into the bucket of blood, snacking on them as she works, as well as trying to feed him, which he stubbornly denies.

Soon, she has cut off his nipples accompanied with a scream, and sliced her way down his chest, revealing the wet pink muscle underneath.

Stopping at his shorts, she moves back to his face, slowly cutting up the neck and around his jaw, almost peeling off his skin as if it were a mask.

His screams did make the process harder, and so the skinning was not as clean as other places; cuts littered his face and she even slipped and sliced open an eye, its viscous fluid now drips down the side of his face muscles.

Also, as she finishes with his face, a slightly acrid stench attacks her nostrils, ripping her from her delighted trance.

Turning the man round, she notices his brown trousers are soaked with urine.

With a “tut”, she hovers the sizzling steel over the trousers quickly drying them out.

As she does so, she looks up at the man:

He is biting his teeth together, trying to hold the winces of pain and more over to not scream form the coming pain that he just sealed for himself.

Suppressing a chuckle at his futile effort to stay strong, she slowly unzips his shorts, dragging them down to his ankles.

“Hmm, I thought you’d be a little more excited about this” She playfully pouts as she notices his small, soft being.

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 “I…’m in too…much pain to think about such things” He answers back as politely as he can, to which she chuckles.

 She remembers when he cursed her the first time; because that was the day she tried slowly impaling him with a sharp spiral drill.

Shaking the delicious memories away, she looks away from the man.

Finding what she was looking for, she saunters over to a small box.

Picking a small contraption that is akin to a closed umbrella but without the flaps in between. She also grabs a small pill from her bosom and upon return, shoves it down his throat.

Within a second, he is fully erect, against his own will.

Finding the hole at the top, she places the umbrella in and pushes it down, causing tears along the hole, accompanied by pained screams from the man.

Though the screams increase hundred fold as she presses the small button at the end, causing the contraption to open up; slicing cleanly through in multiple locations; the tip of each razor sharp blade jutting out.

Cackling slightly at her just vengeance for him soiling her mood and her wooden rack, she rips the contraption out and his penis slaps onto his thighs in twelve different parts.

With a slightly satisfied smile, she goes back to her small box of contraptions and takes two joined pieces of metal which make a spherical shape close to where they join together.

Trying them out, she squeezes them together and sure enough the spherical shape decreases to the point of a dot.

Unable to wipe the malignant grin on her face, she returns to the man and places one of his balls within the contraption.

She still finds it confusing as to why the man never tries to plead forgiveness so as to stop her from doing such things, especially with such a painful thing.

Quickly checking on the man, she notices he is barely conscious from the pain as his eyes rolls from view to the back of his head, lulling on the borderline.

Chuckling darkly, she stands up and slaps the man, leaving a bloody claw mark on his cheek.

Spitting out precious blood, the man gains focus once more, and immediately screams from the pain when remembering what just happened to him

She helps increase those screams by using the contraption to squeeze the ball, soon making it pop delightfully, but she sadly doesn’t hear the sound over the pained wails.

Moving onto the second one, she notices urine trailing down onto her hand.

Not pleased in the slightest, she squeezes fiercely and pulls, effectively popping and then ripping his other ball off.

The screams die out as the man falls unconscious.

Leaving the unconscious man where he is, she stands up with a slight huff.

“KARIAAAATH”

The dungeon door slams open and a small brown skull with a green, pulsating gem for its right eye, floats into 

the room

“Yes Mistress?” Kariath clacks away

“Clean me” She holds out her acrid smelling hands

“Yes Mistress” The tone of dejection is covered well but still slips from the clacking teeth of Kariath.

He floats over to her hands and starts spewing a black, putrid smoke that washes over her hands, sizzling in the air, yet not affecting her hands as it passes through.

With a happier smile, she walks outside the room, warning Kariath to call for her when her ‘pet’ awakens.

Kariath dejectedly sighs and floats towards the unconscious man, noticing that the man is actually just clenching his jaw to stop him from screaming.

If he had eyebrows, he would have raised them. Instead Kariath floated around the man to try figure out why the man was not unconscious.

Upon inspection, he deemed the man must have fortitude of a ridiculous level, to endure what happened to his nether region without falling unconscious.

In his curiosity, he decided to speak to the man.

“Why do you try to stay conscious?” He clacks

“Because, I made a promise to meet someone and I’ll keep it even if it kills me” He grunts through gritted teeth, not pretending to be unconscious anymore.

Something warm, like a hug, spread over Kariath, enveloping him in a feeling he had long buried deep within the recess of his tortured mind.

“MISTRESS” The warmth recedes, disappointed and sending a painful pang into him, even though pain was something he had lost many years ago.

Mistress flies into the room and immediately chuckles at the determined face of the ‘newly conscious’ man.

She saunters up and leans into the man, causing him to look back determinedly, albeit with more than a hint of fear is mixed in his eyes.

“I won’t be playing with you for a little while, so rest up and recover so I can rip you apart again later” She takes out a small vial of blood and pours it into her mouth, before kissing the man and forcing the blood down his throat with her tongue.

Sputtering, the man convulses at the hellish taste of the blood as it literally burns its way down his throat, searing his heart and blazes through his bloodstream causing thunderous screams from the man.

Happy he digested the blood, she motions for Kariath to follow, she disappears outside the door.

Help him…Please

Kariath stops for half a second at the doorway, looking back at the man, before wrenching himself away to follow Mistress, ignoring the pleading voice in his head with terrible anger.

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Author's Corner: So, it's an ok chapter by my standards...guess i wasn't really in the mood to write torture, but ah well, there'll hopefully be another chance later/ i should write the chapter in advance when i've got the feeling yadayada.

Well anyways, hope you enjoyed(?) the chapter, and please comment things you're thinking please :D

-TRUE NORRRRRRRRRRRRD