Suffering and violence as an aphrodisiac may seem the result of a very jaded progress of sexual exploration. A process where one needs greater and greater levels of stimulation as initial exploration seems trivial after progressing farther.
One cannot deny that this particular Goddess has come to demand greater levels of suffering each benchmark of her life. Yet, the truth remains; I was drawn to suffering from a very early age. Not just the physical aspects of it either.
As I young child I watched a group of boys beat on another boy. The kicks, the punching, and the name calling were almost mesmerizing. Finally and all too soon they abandoned the single boy on the ground, where he lay crying. I stood and walked over to get a closer look at the beaten boy.
He lay on his back wiping tears from his eyes and sobbing uncontrollably. I squatted next to him and studied his face as he stared back expecting kindness. I had none and his eyes began to look around at the sky for an answer, I lowered my head unaware of my own self, absorbed in his humiliation. As his head did everything to not meet eye contact he began to move, but my hand reached out to his chest to hold him there. It was then his head focused between my knees, and I was soon aware he was looking up my skirt.
I stood up refusing to be ogled by this other child and spit in his face adding to his humiliation, and stepped over him to leave him. I didn’t leave it at that. I turned back around, and shot a kick to his sensitive little balls. He lay there cupping himself and rolling in the pain of rupture.
Keep in mind; this all lacked any sexuality at all, as this was no more than young curiosity on all levels. However, it was a foreshadowing of attitudes to come.
As grade school began, there was always that boy, for ever creepy and suffering much to my amusement. I made sure that our introduction was far from the last time I had groined kicked him. I made sure Samuel Zachary was friendless and ridiculed from 1st to 12th grade.
He had been the laughingstock for his entire life. Some would blame me for his future behavior. I did not choose the way he became for him… those were the choices of a loser who embraced being a predator.
Through high school he could often be found loitering around girl’s houses from class. He developed his own reputation for giving girls he was fixated upon dozens of unwelcomed phone calls a day.
One day when I was 17 I even spotted him outside my home stalking me. I didn’t hide or cringe, I stared back enjoying the pitiful expression on his face. I stepped outside and walked up to him. He was obviously uncomfortable being confronted. “Need another kick in the junk, Sammy?” I asked him. He said nothing as he kept leering. A relative eventually came home, and Sammy took off then.
The next day held news. Sam had been arrested for raping an elderly woman that night, his first step in a laundry list of sex crimes. Still, as typical with our justice system, he never stayed put away long. I moved to a new neighborhood as the years passed, and eventually the sex offender was also run out of our old neighborhood.
In time I entered a local corner store as a dirty bearded man exited carrying a load of cheap beer. He had familiar eyes and leered at me in a way I am used to from all men, but yet was somehow familiar in its own way. I purchased my items and exited to see him still next to the building. I began to stroll home and passed him.
A glass phone booth in the dark betrayed his following me, and I knew I had my own prey. I dwelled on the memory of his gaze and tried to pin point why it was familiar. I let my hips swing as I slowly continued my stroll keeping my prey mesmerized with my body. How could he resist my short skirt and high boots in an outfit that hugged my body, and hair dangling just over my ass?
I entered the foyer of my building and as I found my keys I saw him climbing my steps. Here is a little wisdom for you when dealing with a predator, don’t act like prey. Dogs attack when they smell fear, a shark attacks what flees from it, etc.
He entered the foyer as I opened my door and I rounded on him, holding it open for him to enter the hallway. It was then I recognized him. “Samuel!” I exclaimed, “No wonder you were staring at me like that, I didn’t recognize you with a beard.” It caught him off guard, as he was working up to his attack.
“Umm… Hi…” he stammered.
“You need to clean up and have a drink with me, so we can catch up!” I said, much to his surprise. I saw in his face it seemed out of character for me to be so welcoming and nice. I had to recover, “Sam, have you found Jesus?”
Right then he knew he had me. My sudden and unexpected kindness explained, He grinned back and said “No, haven’t found him yet.”
“Well why don’t you have dinner with me and we can chat?” I asked as I sauntered to my door.
Nice thing about letting the neighbors know you’re a Dominatrix is that they don’t think it very strange when they hear a man screaming from your apartment. So as the door closed and I turned and flooded his eyes with the pepper-spray all any neighbors thought of was foreplay. We writhed with pain, hunched over in agony. I reached into the kitchen grabbing an iron skillet and slammed it into the top of his head, causing a concussion. He went out like a light.
I dragged him into the second bedroom, my dungeon at the time and began to restrain him to the crucifix most of my servants dread. I let him hang there tied to its arms as I changed into an outfit more fitting, one of leather that won’t stain like my current choice in clothes.
I sat across from him comfortably, waiting for him to wake. He finally lifted his lolling head and took his time to focus on me. I stood to my feet and saw his eyes grow wide in fear. I slowly moved in close, “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…” I said, “You thought you were going to rape me, didn’t you?”
“I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch,” he growled at me.
“Tsk tsk… I think, Sammy, you have no idea who your fucking with, I was always on top of you in school, kicking your balls… and now, I’m a goddess… your just a registered sex offender with no hope for a future.” I replied.
Now his pathetic leering had become mixed with shame. “Let me go,” he said “and you’ll never see me again.”
“Sammy… who says I never want to see you again?” with that a clap of electricity sounded as the clippers in my hand turned on and buzzed. He looked down realizing he was nude for the first time. I shave his whole body. Head to toe, even his eye brows were clipped and then razored, against his pleas for dignity.
“What are you doing to me?” he whined.
“Sammy… didn’t you get it? You haven’t found Jesus; instead you found Goddess Saphire and came to her… I’m going to have to be who fixes your worthless existence.” I laughed at him, “I am the way… for your pathetic self.”
The thin nylon chord in my hand slipped tight around his balls cutting off blood flow. His eyes grew wide, “What are you doing?”
“Sammy… look at your life, you’re on the streets, a sex offender. You can’t hold down a job, and no one wants you living near them. You rape the elderly, you victimize the young and still innocent, you are garbage, and need to be fixed and given direction.” It was the look in his eye that told me salvation is probably the most frightening thing in the world. Good thing I’ll never embrace it for myself.
“What are you going to do?” he whimpered.
“I’m going to free you, from slavery to your cock, and give you slavery to me.” I chuckled. With that my knife, which he hadn’t seen moved to his bound scrotum. I let it rest there and savored his sobs and pleas.
“Please let me go,” he finally begged.
“No, Samuel… that’s not an option.”
“Please don’t hurt me…” A tear rolled down his cheek, forgetting how filthy he was I was compelled to catch it with my tongue owing to the need to taste his grief.
“Let me ask you something Sammy… did it work for any of them when they asked you not to hurt them?” I pressed the knife against his sack harder, as he broke into uncontrollable tears.
“Forgive me.” He bellowed.
“I will, Sammy… I will, but you must make penance. You must experience sacrifice, and embrace control, surrender it to me, and embrace that I know what is best for you.” He continued to babble and cry. His tears flowed freely.
“Goddess… I see your wisdom… and you are right, my urges do have the better of me.” He let out a loud sob. “Let me stay intact. Guide me yourself, and if I fail, I’ll remove my scrotum myself in front of you.”
“You get one chance to turn yourself over to me and keep it that way. I own many strong men, they will make you keep your promise.” I warned him. I opened my closet in my dungeon room and he saw a dog crate large enough to accommodate an adult man. “Sammy, I am the way, now you can live without the urge,” I pointed to the crate, “Now you have shelter, where before you only had an alley and cardboard, and you will soon have your first of the guaranteed daily meals I will provide you. Don’t you have something to say?”
“Thank you Goddess Saphire for fixing me and giving me hope.”
With that I led him to a shower and put him away in his new home. I let him out daily and feed him, let him release his waste when I feel he needs to, and have given him purpose. He is my slave, my gimp, and my property. He has no sexual needs any more, only the need to be used. I allow good servants to abuse him as reward, and he’s become a great little cock sucker, and is left hungry enough to swallow every drop. He answers my phones while I am in session, serves waiting slaves refreshments, and does all my manual home labor. I freed him from the bonds of his urges, and gave him what those urges took from him, shelter, food, and value. Every night he bows lips to my feet and prays to his harsh, wise, and yet, merciful Goddess, and ends all prayers with a request for more.
Labels: bondage, dildo, fem domme, femdom, fetish sex, Fetishes, Goddess Saphire, Hypnosis, leather, mind control, servants, slaves, teasing, tpe, training, tribute, wallets, whipping, whips
