Playing with Leanne III: Red Hot Needles

Playing With Leanne III: Red Hot Needles

This is a story featuring my slave Leanne. The stories can be read and enjoyed separately, so I have not included them in part of a large novel. But if you want to read them in the order in which they occurred it is this order (when I have completed writing the stories):

Playing with Leanne I

Playing with Leanne II: Tweezers

Playing with Leanne III: Red Hot Needles

Leanne Gives Up Her Safe Word

Leanne’s O Fantasy

The Crucifixion of Leanne

Leanne Sacrifices Her Clit

Leanne Moves In

Some of the tales do not really feature in a chronological order, because some of the events overlapped with some of the events above. These stories, so far, are detailed below. And some of the stories I simply cannot recall the correct chronology.

Leanne the Latex Nun

Reading to Leanne / Leanne Reading

Playing with Leanne III

Leanne, my ultra-masochistic slave, continued to come to seek torture at my hands. Each time that she came to see me I tried to push her boundaries a little further. Not once, yet, had she used her safe word, not even when she was in what was obviously severe pain. But there was part of her which needed and desired the torture.

Leanne, over the course of her relationship, had shared most of her fantasies with me (although I suspected that there was still a few which she was keeping secret). Her fantasies were generally of her being captured by some evil regime and being tortured for information: regimes such as had existed in South America in the 1970s, or in Nazi Germany, and so on. In her fantasies she couldn’t give up any information because it would mean giving up the names of friends, so she had no choice but to suffer torture at the hands of evil people.

In her fantasies the sorts of things which were used on her were whips, electricity, and the lit ends of cigarettes. Now I didn’t smoke, so using cigarettes would be awkward. But I decided to play with Leanne using intense heat, and to see how she reacted. I considered using branding irons or soldering irons, but decided that she was not yet ready for something so permanent. Such delights could come later, as I took Leanne down the road of utter submission. It was my plan to slowly increase how much she could take.

I decided, after Leanne had been coming to me for some time, that it was time for needles, rather than just beating her body with my collection of whips. I’d had needles ready ever since she had begun to see me. But it was not going to be normal needles: I had decided that I would heat them until they were glowing red, before I forced them into her flesh.

I did not suddenly spring them on Leanne, but told her, at the end of a session, that the next time that she came to see me that I would be torturing her with red hot needles, and that the only way to avoid an encounter with them was to stop coming to see me. Well, Leanne did not contact me for a couple of months, and I began to fear that I had pushed her just a little too far, and that I was not going to see her again – which would be a big shame as far as I was concerned, as I had never met a woman who could take as much pain as her.

Then, one Friday night, I got a phone call from Leanne. I recognised her mobile number instantly.

“Hello, slave.” I said.

“Hello, Master Crowley.” Leanne said, breathlessly. She sounded turned on, and I wondered just what she was doing at the other end of the phone. “Will the needles really be red hot?”

“Yes.” I said.

“Where will you use them?”

“Wherever I want to thrust them.” I said. “I will definitely pierce your tits with them. I have not decided just where else I will put them. I might force them under your fingernails, like they do in some evil regimes. I might put them in your pussy mound, one after the other. Imagine that.”

I could tell from her heavy breathing that she was imagining just that. I was almost certain that Leanne was naked, and frigging her pussy as she talked to me. The prospect of red hot needles had obviously entered her fantasies.

“I will almost certainly end the session by forcing a red hot needle down into the centre of your clit.” I said. “I know how it craves punishment.”

I heard a muffled scream from Leanne, She had just cum, I guessed. Then, in a shaky voice:

“I’ll be there at seven tomorrow night.”

The fact is that, almost for as long as I can remember, the fantasy of a person being tortured with red hot needles has been one of my biggest turn ons. It is not something which I had ever seen before in real life. The nearest that I got was the film version of The Image, based on the book by Jean de Berg. In that French film there is a brief scene where the female submissive is pricked by the end of heated needles. But that was as far as it went.

They are mentioned of course, in my stories Joanne 3 and Paris 1944. As Joanne 3 was written for Leanne I was hoping that it wasn’t too big a surprise that I wanted to use them in real life.

Some of my favourite stories off the internet, from the FetLibrary and elsewhere, have mentioned the use of hot, glowing needles. I’m thinking of the like of stories such as A Cellar Full of Screams, Crown of Torments, Papillon Rouge, Chattel Castle and House of Slaves. Ah, such sadistic reading pleasures. But reading about doing something is never like doing it for real. And, in another day or so, that was exactly what I would do.

Saturday morning I got hold of a gas ring, the sort that you might use if you went off camping. I made sure that I had one which was sturdy, and which wouldn’t fall over. I had no desire to set my house on fire, and I could imagine doing that with a blowtorch. I made sure that it had a plate where I could rest the metal part of the needles. I had some bodkins with wooden handles. I couldn’t use normal needles, as I wouldn’t be able to pick them up. But bodkins would be fine.

Leanne knocked on my door at one minute to seven. I kept her waiting for a few minutes before opening the door. Then I relented and let her in.

Leanne was kneeling on my doorstep. She was naked apart from a leather collar, fishnet stockings and suspenders. That was the way that she had to drive to my house. My house was set back from the road, with high hedges. Leanne could not easily be seen. But I knew that was not the case going down from her apartment to her car. I guessed that she had to be careful, or she would give people an eyeful. And that was the point. I took pleasure in such games of humiliation. It wasn’t all about the pain. Maybe in future I could have Leanne write on her body in markers before she came out, maybe something like PAINSLUT across her ample chest. It was an idea.

“In.” I said. She crawled inside. “Playroom. Crawl.”

Leanne did not speak, but continued to crawl on all fours. She had become increasingly subservient with each visit to see me. I followed her as she crawled up the stairs, her big arse swaying from side to side, her nipples brushing the treads and risers as she ascended. But I could break her further, make her even more submissive to me. Today would be a test of, pain-wise, just how far I could push her.

She crawled along the passage to the playroom, the site of so much pain in the few months that I had known Leanne. She had been whipped, many times, all over her body. She had had candle wax dripped on her breasts and pussy. She had had me use a violet wand on her (on a low setting). She had even taken my fist in her arsehole. But this was the first time for needles – and they would be red hot.

“Get on the bed.” I said.

Leanne climbed onto the bed, on her back. She could guess where the needles would be headed. I wasn’t going to be sticking them in her arse, although I bet that I could have got dozens in there.

“I have a request, Master Crowley.” Leanne said, as I manacled her tightly in a spread-eagle. I put a big cushion beneath her but to raise that section of her body slightly.

“What?” I asked, suspiciously. I hoped that she wasn’t about to ask me to go easy on her. I didn’t do easy.

“I want to be gagged.” Leanne said. “Just for this session. It is the only way that I will be able to take it, and I want to take it, master.”

Leanne’s safeword was quitter. Using it would have ended the session and, I had warned her, the relationship (but that was probably not the case, as masochists like Leanne were exceedingly rare). I should have said no, and refused to gag her. But, in my defence, I had been looking forward to using red hot needles on a real person for so long that I was not using my better judgement.

“Alright, just this once. But once the gag goes in it stays in until the session is complete, no matter what noises you make.”

“Yes, Master Crowley. Thank you, Master Crowley.”

I had a red plastic gag, which I had never used on Leanne before. I tied it as tightly as possible. There was no way that Leanne could get it out. And there was no way that I could understand anything which she might try to say.

I had to say, chained out in an X, her arms and legs as tight as I could get them, with the red gag visible in her mouth, Leanne looked really sexy. Really suitable for torture. She was any sadist’s dream. But she was not quite right.

I had some flexible rubber tubing. I tied a piece of it tightly around the base of Leanne’s left breast, and then around the right. Tied off tightly, it would trap some of the blood in Leanne’s big tits, causing them to darken and bulge out. They looked like a pair of small footballs on her chest. I had used the rubber tubing on a submissive before, albeit not on Leanne, and I knew that there was enough give in the rubber that the blood flow would not be completely stopped, risking nasty things like necrosis. But, from what I had heard, it made the breasts feel a hell of a lot more sensitive.

I set up the gas ring, and dozens of bodkins with wooden handles. Leanne stared at the bodkins which, soon enough, would be piercing her defenceless flesh. She made some noises into her gag. I think that the needles were maybe a little longer than she had been expecting. Well, it was too late now. There was no going back.

I didn’t turn on the gas ring yet, as I had a few other preparations, and I didn’t want to leave it unattended. I went into my bedroom, and got out a uniform which I had bought some time ago, with the thought of using it in our games. It was the uniform of a member of the Nazi S.S, all black and severe. It was not the sort of thing you could take to your local dry cleaners. I had bought it at the same time as a had-cranked electric shock machine, which I had not yet got to use on Leanne.

I knew that Leanne was into the idea of interrogation scenes, so I had thought it was ideal for our games. When I walked back into the playroom wearing it I was rewarded with the exact right response, her eyes almost bugging out of her head.

I turned on the gas, making sure that only the metal part of the bodkins would be exposed to heat, and not the wooden handles.

“So, Fraulein,” I said, in a very bad faux German accent (I had got Unclassified at school – I will spare you the double U’s pronounced as V’s.). “This is where I would normal say that we have ways of making you talk. But the fact is that we do not need you to talk. One of you allied spies has given you all of the information we need. I do not need to know anything that you know. All that you need to do is to suffer.”

I kept my eyes on the needles as I gave my soliloquy. It was just to build a little atmosphere, and to use up some time as the needles heated. I wasn’t just going to sit down and wait for them to warm up. That would have been a boring thing to do.

“Know this, that over the next few weeks you will know the agonies of the damned. You will be kept alive for as long as possible, while every part of your body is tortured for our amusement. There will be no help coming for you. There will be no rescue, and there will be no mercy. Only if you accidentally die under torture will there be the possibility of escape. But know this – we are very good at what we do. In one cellar there is a Jewish girl called Magda. We have kept her alive for the past three years, and tortured her every day. She is, of course, quite insane. Let us see how long your sanity holds out.”

Thankfully, the needles were already beginning to glow, as I was running out of things to say. I went over to the gas, and turned it down, so that the needles would keep their heat, but not end up going white hot.

I picked up the first needle. I sat on the bed, beside the stretched out Leanne. She did not look at me. All of the attention was on the red hot needle.

I didn’t force it into her bulging breasts, but just used the end of it to prick the skin, like I had seen in the movie The Image. I heard Leanne gasp into the gag. It almost sounded like pleasure.

I kept up just pricking her breasts with the end of the glowing needles for around half an hour, returning the bodkins to the heat when they stopped glowing. I left lots of tiny little marks all over Leanne’s tits. Then I got a little bored of that particular activity. I sat between Leanne’s legs. She stared at me when I changed position, trying to plead with her eyes. But there was not to be any mercy. Not today.

I used the needles to prick her hairless pubic mound, in the same way that I had her tits. I did not go anywhere near her labia or clit, though. I was saving those for later. I had already decided that her clit was to be the climax of the evening, so to speak.

After some twenty minutes of making the tiniest of burn marks on her mons I decided that the intro was over, and that it was time to get to the main event. I changed needles, and sat on the bed beside her again. I grabbed her left breast, and slowly pushed the glowing needle into her tit meat. This was no surface piercing, going shallow under the skin, but down towards the centre of her breast. She went rigid with pain, almost as I might have expected from running an electric shock through her. I did not stop pushing until the wood of the bodkin’s handle was touching her skin.

She was screaming into the gag, and sweating, shaking her hard from side to side. All that I did was to get up, get another needle, and sit down on the other side of the bed. She shook her head no, but I ignored her. It was she who had asked to be gagged, after all.

I carried on, pushing hot metal into her tits, needle after glowing needle, cooking the inside of her flesh. To her credit she did not faint. I think that anybody else would have.

Then I picked up a bodkin and held it with the end just touching her nipple. I had pushed ones down into each breast in a ring a round each areola. But I had not done her nipples yet. I had read stories with people having their nipples pierce with red hot needles, from side to side. But that was not the way in which this needle was going in.

“This one is going deep.” I told her. “It is glowing red hot. It will cook the inside of your nipple, and then carry on down, into your milk ducts, cooking them from the inside. Your tits are going to be ruined after this. But there is no mercy. You will be tortured for the rest of your life.”

With some difficulty I forced the needle directly down into her nipple and breast. I did not stop until the wood of the bodkin touched the skin of her nipple.

It was when I did her other nipple that Leanne fainted for the first time.

I took a break just then. The fact was that I was so turned on that I was about to cum in my S.S. trousers, and I had not even touched my cock, the whole evening.

I had a very cold shower, until my erection subsided. I got myself a sandwich. Then I returned to the playroom, to finish off the needle torture of Leanne.

She had recovered consciousness, which was good. There is no point in torturing an unconscious slave. I got another needle, and sat at the end of the bed, between her legs. It was time to pierce her cunt.

I ignored Leanne shaking her head. She had chosen to be gagged, as I reminded her. I started off with her mound of Venus, forcing the hot needles into it, until I had only three needles left.

I picked up another red hot needle. I stretched out her left labia, and forced the needle lengthwise down into it. More screams around the gag.

“Only two left.” I said. Her ordeal was only over.

I then did the same with her right labia. the flesh scouted by heat and the sharp needle/

“Last one.” I said.

I pulled back Leanne’s clitoral hood with the fingers of my left hand. Her clit stood up, red and proud, the size of a cherry tomato. I forced the needle down into the clit, and through it, down into her body, as far as it would go. Leanne fainted for the second time.

I waited for Leanne to recover consciousness, taking off my S.S. uniform in the interim. Her cunt, of course, was dripping wet. It had been the whole evening, despite the mind-destroying torture to which I had subjected her. On one level she had enjoyed it.

When she was conscious I fucked her, entering her cunt for the first ever time. I fucked her hard, lying on her, my body forcing the needles even further into her body, if that was possible. It did not take me long to spurt inside her.

I got off her. More screams as I took out the needles in her clit, cunt and breasts. I undid the tubing from the base of her tits, letting them return to their normal state. But I did not take the needles out of her nipples yet.

“Leanne, I am going to leave those two needles in you.” I said. “Consider them to be a reward, not a punishment. I want you to drive home with them still deep inside your breasts. When you get home you are to send me a selfie of them still inside you.”

I took out the gag. Leanne looked exhausted.

“Thank you, Master.” she muttered, as I undid her restraints. I let her stagger out of there and down to her car.

I got my selfie a couple of hours later, of a smiling Leanne showing off her tortured tits in her apartment, the needles still buried in her nipples. As with all of the selfies I stored them on my computer. I wondered, after such an intense session, where it would go from there.

I suppose that, looking back, it wasn’t a far stretch from a session where Leanne had not been able to use her safeword to her giving it up entirely.

The End.