Eosi’s Redemption

* - *

- Hank - 

* - *

Hank immediately got on with the preparations. From a suitcase in the corner of the room he retrieved a bundle of nylon ropes looped through a pulley system. He hung the pulley system to a ring bolted securely into the stone ceiling, off the end of the altar, right above where Eosi had been kneeling. And he set on the nearest edge of the stone altar, two elongated carved wood devices with metal clips on each side, measuring about an inch wide and six inches long, as well as four rectangular vacuum sealed black plastic pouches, that appeared to have a large U-shape embossed on each of them. Walking back to his chair, he simply said to Eosi:

- ”You know what you must do.”

The slave, recovering from her recent humiliations, acquiesced. Hank remembered how they had discussed and planned this next exercise, and how he had loved to watch her masturbate while he told her how it would unfold. Now that it was real, she still seemed resolved but she was trembling. The look in her eye made her appear more vulnerable, which drew Hank’s attention to the rope marks on her neck, and her bruised tits. And there was also that red spot on her back. In a stroke of bad luck, or poor planning, the tip of the hook had pushed right on the area where she had had chronic pain, since their session in the barn when he had fucked her with she spiked cock-sleeve, bent over the anvil. It was like fate was finding new ways to hurt the poor girl.

Eosi got up and approached the stone altar. She picked up the two wooden pieces with her hands and returned to kneel in front Hank and their two friends. She remember Hank’s instruction, she was not only to torture herself, she had to put herself on display for their enjoyment.

The wooden devices were tit presses that Hank had made specifically for his slave. They consisted of two matching pieces of carved, stained and polished hardwood, curved to follow the lines of her torso. The opposing surfaces, designed to press on her flesh, were etched with a criss-cross pattern to provide additional grip. The wood pieces were held together at each end by adjustable, spring-loaded clips. They were in the locked position, squeezing the two wooden jaws together. Knobs could be turned to adjust the pressure. For tonight, Hank had preset all of them to near maximum strenght. Once the devices would be locked shut on her flesh, it would take such a force to rip it off that the whole bosom might very well be torn with it.

She picked the first one and positioned it close to her left breast. With her right hand, she toggled open the clip near the midline of her chest. Holding the wooden jaws open with her left hand, she slid it over her small globe and then pressed down, so that it gently compressed her soft flesh. He had made her practice that part, until she had gotten the hang of it. The trick was then to pull her tit through with her right hand, while slowly increasing the pressure with the left so that her stretched boob couldn’t retract behind the wood. She didn’t have much flesh to work with, so she needed to be precise. 

- “Ooooh that still hurts!”

At practice of course, her nipple hadn’t been previously tortured by serrated clamps for hours on end. It must have hurt like hell when she pulled her nipple through, and Hank was sure it would hurt a lot more more when she would lock the whole thing shut. She reached a point where her nipple and areola were fully on the outer side of the press, with enough skin peaking off to the left and the right of it. She closed the device shut with all her strength getting it as tight as she could. And then with both hands, she force-toggled the opened clip into the locked position. She wailed.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaah! Aah!”

When she had practiced, the springs on the clips hadn’t been nearly as strongly loaded as they were currently. The pain on her now exaggeratedly erect, mauled nipple must have been multiplied. Hank knew it would soon turn a nice shade of purple.

She checked her work, and tugged on the press. It was secured in place, and she had left enough play in between the wood and her pectoral muscles for what was coming next. It would work. She repeated the process with the other breast, and to Hank the process looked  just as painful as the first time around. 

The thin Asian girl kneeling in front of the three men now had both her breasts squashed between cruel pieces of wood. The pointed nipples and bite sized bosom flesh bulging out of the wooden jaws were quickly turning to a deep purple. She looked uncomfortable and nervous.

* - *

Gathering her strength and resolve, Eosi got up once again and made her way back to the altar. Her breathing was heavier now. Hank imagined every lungful of air was painfully felt through her crushed tits. She picked the closest black plastic pouch and ripped it off. Out came a shiny U-shaped piece of stainless steel, maybe five inches long. One of the legs of the U was shorter, and carved into a razor sharp point. The longest leg had a loop, upon which was set a small, stainless steel carabiner clip. She turned back to face her public, and like the hostess of a show and tell, presented the vicious meat-hook on the open palm of her hand, for all to see.

With her right hand, she grabbed the outer end of her left tit press, and pulled it away from her torso. In the gap between her body and the wood, her skin and flesh was stretched and tensed, tapering from her pectoral muscle to a thin flat layer caught between the pieces of wood. She cautiously positioned the sharp tip of the steel hook under the tensed skin, at about one third of the width of her bosom with the intent to ram it up and stab herself. But there was great fear in her eyes, her hand was shaking. She tried to take a few breaths, wincing and frowning, however it was already too late. She had hesitated, missed her moment, and now she was losing the battle. The wobbling in her hand was only increasing, and then it was her arm and her whole body… her muscles gave up. She lowered the arm holding the hook. She looked distressed.

- “I am sorry Master… may I please sit… it might help…”

- “Yes slave, you can sit”.

She rested her bottom onto the stone altar behind her, and gave it another try. Her breathing accelerated again, the shaking started. Hank saw doubt in her expression. She closed her eyes, breathed in, then out, slowly. Hank could see her already thin abdomen curving inward. And then suddenly, she yanked up with all her strength. 

- “Haa!”

Her mouth emitted an intense cry, like a martial artist punching through a wall. The intense focus only lasted an instant, and quickly the tears and that look of panic returned. But she had overcome, she had broken the skin and pierced her flesh with the stainless steel spike. And now there was a white point poking below the tan upper skin of her breast, like an alien invader caught inside her flesh between the wood of the cruel press and her bony chest. There was no stopping anymore, she needed to see it through.

She pushed down the wooden apparatus with her right hand, while pulling up as hard as she could on the hook with her other hand. Her face was contorted in pain, every muscle was apparent on her thin arms. Hank wondered how long she would hold, if the skin was not to break. But it did break, and the metal point tore through her stretched epiderm and emerged out. Her soft skin had given up before her will. Her face expressed excruciating pain, relief and beneath it all, the satisfaction of success.

The process was equally painful and trying with the second hook, on the inner side of the same breast, towards the middle of her chest. She won the fight, but Hank saw little pride when the metal finally came out of the skin this time around. There was only strain, pain and mental exhaustion.

The real battle came with the next hook, the third one. Eosi started the process anew with her right breast, positioning once more the sharp tip under her soft skin. However it was clear the two previous skewerings had left her strained, and pushing through was visibly becoming harder. She had to dig deep in the reserves of her stamina and determination to drive the metal point into her bosom. This time however, her body worked against her. Despite throwing-in all of her remaining strength in multiple painful attempts, the evil metal point buried inside her flesh would not break through the upper skin, like her epiderm was made of stab-proof kevlar. Panic settled, her eyes started to bounce left and right, looking for a hypothetical out. She was shaking.

- “Aaaaaaah! I can’t… It won’t… I can’t… I’m sorry I can’t…”

- “Slave!” Hank said with a commanding voice.

She instantly went still, her eyes locked on his.

- “Back the hook down and try again.” He said calmly.

She shook her head in desperation. Her teary eyes were pleading. She wanted to obey, she was compelled to. But she simply couldn’t. On his side, Hank’s mind was racing beneath his apparent calm. Was he pushing her too far? No, she could go through this.

- “Eosi. Follow my voice. Back the hook down. Then push again. All the way through.” He said in a slow, calm but imperative tone.

She nodded with her pain stricken face. Her right hand pushed the hook down, to the point it almost came out beneath her breast. And she pulled up again. There was a long wail that didn’t stop as her left hand gripping the press stretched her tit down with all her strength. It was not enough. She was close to giving up again.

- “Do it for me.” Hank added, with a calm commanding voice.

She dug deep and gathered all the stamina she had left. She pulled up the hook and yanked the press down, and again one more time until the metal point finally breached through the skin. It came with a long wailing scream, followed by smaller echoes.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh! Aaah! Aaah!”

Blood appeared under her breast, and started to trickle down her abdomen, contrasting with immaculate breaches of the other metal hooks. Hank got up, walked towards her, and gave her a light embrace wrapping his arms around her neck. 

- “Only one more” he whispered in her ear.

She broke into tears at the sound of his words, but nodded in submission. She would drive one more hook through her flesh, for her Master. Thankfully the previous ordeal did not repeat as the fourth instrument of pain perforated her skin cleanly, although not without an intense pain if Hank was to believe her screams and her tears. By the time she was done, she was shaking, like all that remained was pain.

Hank was proud of her for powering through, and moved by her devotion. But mostly, the sight of Eosi torturing herself for him was putting him in a state of raw arousal that wrenched his guts. And now that he had tasted it, he only wanted more. 

* - *

It took time for Eosi to gather herself back together, but eventually she got up. With her legs trembling, she positioned herself under the pulley. The rope hanging down had been tied in a small loop. And as they had planned, she snapped each of the clips at the hooks end through the loop. The moment Hank knew she was dreading the most, was now at hand. 

- “You did good, slave and you know what is next.” Hank said, feeling she needed to hear it out loud once more, to secure her resolve. “You are to lift yourself up, at the strength of your own arms, and to keep yourself hanging from the hooks in your breasts, for ten lashes of the whip.”

- “Yes… Master” she said in a staggering voice.

The pulley system would help her, greatly reducing the force needed to lift her body off the ground. Each pull of the rope would only lift her up for a fraction of that length. With both hands, she gripped the free end of the rope that was dangling off and she started to pull down, slowly and a small amount at a time. As she did, Hank could see the rope loop where the carabiners were attached slightly tugging on the metal hooks. Soon the tension increased to the point it was obviously painful, and she started to emit a high-pitched cry with every breath. Hank noticed her breast presses riding up. And the skin stretched between her chest, the wood jaws and the metal hooks was getting more and more tense. more tugs. The purple ends of her tits were now pointing up. Soon she was standing on her toes. More tugs. The metal was pinching her transpierced flesh against the wood. Her torso was tilted back under the vertical pull of the hooks. More tugs, and slowly the weight of her body started to shift from her feet to the hooks. She couldn’t contain it, she went again into full wailing and tears.

- “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! aaaaah! uuuh… uuuh… uuuh…” 

The waterworks came down from her eyes. Her hands were tight on the rope but her elbows were shaking violently. Hank wasn’t sure how long she would hold. 

She pulled again, one, two, three, four more times, all the while crying and shaking, until finally it happened, her toes did not touch the stone floor anymore.

With his slave now wobbling in the air, hanged in her torturous predicament, Hank got up from his chair, and grabbed a long leather tail. It was a hybrid between a horse whip and a bludgeon. Shorter than a full whip, at about six feet long. It was heavy, in braided leather starting with a thickness of about two inches at the handle, then slimming down gradually and finishing by a little square of hardened leather. It was heavy enough to hit like a stick on contact, but flexible enough to bend and swoosh like a whip. As for the hard tip, it was just designed to hurt. With the proper swing at the hand of a skilled user, it could break skin.

He issued one more order to the pierced body painfully hanging from her tits in front of him:

- “Slave, lift up that loose rope, I do not want it in the way of my whip.

She obeyed the best she could, in clumsy gestures, powering through her predicament to obey the direction of her master. Hanks then turned to John and Francisco, both silent and humbled by the overwhelming spectacle.

- “My friends, you will want to get out of the way” 

They took their respective chairs and backed off against the far wall.

Hank swung in a wide motion, holding nothing back. The whip came cracking, wrapping around Eosi’s hanging body, the vicious tip lashing a loud “CLACK”  as it landed to the left of her belly button. She bent her legs, emitted the loudest cry of the evening so far, and started swinging from her hooks which made her pain even worse. The whip relaxed his embrace to leave a red welt all around her. And a deep red mark where the tip crashed, on her toned abdomen.

The heavy whip fell on the girl's body three more times. Hank was making ample movements, putting the momentum of his whole body into the hits. Her elbows were shaking more and more. The third impact lashed hardest around her rib cage and the cruel leather bit hit her right next to her chewed up, purple bulging nipple. Her shriek was deafening… She first let go of the loose rope she had held in her hand, her arm moving uncontrollably, and then she totally lost her grip on the rope supporting her weight. The pulley system had some resistance and landed her softly on the stone floor. Her legs wouldn't hold her weight, so she fell on her knees in slow motion, her torso leaning back, only held up by the pull on her skewered tits. Instinctively, she wanted to hold herself where it hurt, but her body remembered that holding her breasts would hurt even more. Her arms didn’t know what to do… moving in quick spasms. The hardened leather had crashed against her areola’s skin, and her breast started to drip blood like a leaking faucet, making small red splashes on her abdomen below, and then running down her tight stomach skin. She was lost, but through the tears she found his eyes, and locked on them. The comfort was not enough to stop the distress and the profuse sobs, but it was all she had, all she could hold on to. And so she did, she latched on him and didn’t let go.

After all their extreme talks and fantasies on the phone, Hank was mesmerized at the sight of Eosi experiencing her limits in the real world. Through the pain in her eyes, he saw beauty. He was not exactly sure if she was doing it for him or for herself, but it didn’t matter so much. She was doing it with him and he was pushing her past her boundaries. He felt he was touching her on the most fundamental level, with unbearable pain to her very core. The connection was so much more meaningful than anything he had felt in his first marriage. He didn’t want to think of what he had to go through to get there. What mattered was what he was witnessing and experiencing now. It was like a fire, the hotter it burned, the more it wanted to consume. And the only thing he wanted at this moment, was to keep pushing her even further.

- “Get yourself up again!” he ordered in a commanding voice.

She attempted to calm down, her eyes still fixated on him. Eosi’s look was expressing so many contradicting emotions: love, fear, helplessness, courage, pain, sadness, strength, pleading for a rescue… But from Hank, only came orders that had to be obeyed, and she found renewed focus through his words. Pulling herself together, Eosi stood back up on her shaking legs, not taking her eyes off her master’s. Her beaten, elongated silhouette was the embodiment of pain, with blood stripes running down her smooth skin. 

- “Slave, when I give you an order it means now!” 

- “Please…” she dared, with a supplicating look.

- “Do it!”

- “...Yes Master.”

And her arms and hands started to pull again, slowly. The compressed and transpierced flesh of her small tits angled upwards one tug at a time, until it tensed up, stretched, and once more lifted her from the ground. She had resumed the squeals with each breath, and was crying profusely. Hank made a step toward her, and reaching up with his hand, he toggled a latch on the pulley system. 

- “The pulley is locked now, you can let go of the rope. Put your wrists together! Yes, in front.” he ordered her. 

The suspended Malaysian girl crossed her twitching arms in front of her. Hank quickly bound both arms together with a few rounds of the dangling rope and tied it back up to the pulley.

It was a call of mercy. She wouldn’t have to work for her own suffering anymore. He knew this was as far as she would go on her own. He had found her limit and pushed her past it. She had done incredibly well, he thought. But that didn’t mean he would let her off. He wanted to keep her in a state of submission, remind her that her purpose was to obey any order, no matter how severe. And that coming short would never be acceptable. But more importantly, the idea of increasing her punishment, especially in her current state of distress, excited him tremendously. More than he knew was possible. His cock got even harder as he said:

- “But you failed to obey an order, and there is a price you must pay. We will double the lashes, you will get twenty, and we will restart the count.”

His words only increased the tears coming down her eyes. But it mattered little, and he resumed the swinging of his arm. The thick leather swooshed in the air again, swiftly wrapping around her slender hanging body and the lightning-quick tip struck on her hip, leaving once more a red notch. And then he struck again, and again, leaving deep red stripes all over her tan skin. The “thuds” of the thick leather stumping the girl were leaving purple bruises where the whip would first make contact. And after wrapping around her like a supersonic snake, the lashing tip would leave a nasty red indent that would more often than not give birth to little drops of red, slowly trickling down her body. In between the hits, she was all screams and fury. 

The sixth lash was particularly vicious, Hank’s swing timing perfectly with the momentum of the whip. By pure chance, the tip finished its course lashing around her upper thigh, and landed on the sensitive skin between her legs, past the fold to her crotch. It came at such speed it broke through her epiderm like a slingshot through paper, cutting her immediately beside her outer labia. Her head cocked back, a scream tore the air and bounced around the stone walls of the crypt. She spasmed like an epileptic ragdoll for a long moment, and then she froze. Something unplugged in her brains, maybe overloaded by the pain, and a stream of piss came gushing down between her legs. For a moment all was quiet, except for the heavy stream of clear liquid pouring from her crotch, running down her legs, and crashing on the stones beneath her. It didn’t last, the whip hurling through the air broke the silence, as the next lash sent her wailing again. He stopped after twenty lashes, twenty welts around her body and twenty cuts from the leather tip. 

He untied the hands of the spent body hanging in pain, unlocked the pulley’s latch and let Eosi land on her knees. Finally he unclipped the hooks from the rope. The vicious wooden blocks tilted down under their own weight, as did the now free standing hooks, only held up by the compressed tortured flesh of her breasts. She tipped to her side onto the wet stone floor and curled into a sobbing ball.

* - *

Hank let the mess of twitches and tears she had become cry herself out. While looking at her sobbing, he couldn’t help but admire the wobbling wooden blocks squeezing her tits, the bruises on her sides, the welts across her back, and the red smudges of blood.

When he thought it was time, he grabbed her arm, helped her up, and guided her to the stone altar. He had her laying on her back, on the cold stone, and murmured soothing words in her ear. It took time, but she managed to stop her crying, and to focus her gaze on the nothingness above her. She knew what was next, they had discussed it. Whether it was from acceptance or pure exhaustion, it looked to Hank like she was at peace with the pain, and with the ordeal to come.

Hank walked to the side of the room, came back with a black case in one hand, and in the other a heavy metal tool that looked like a fire poker. He was holding it by the large wood handle. On the other end of the tool, a forged iron piece in the shape of the letter “H” had been soldered on, about an inch tall. Setting the new torture set of tools aside for now, he mounted the altar, his weight compressing girl’s upper thighs against the cold stone.

Leaning forward, he reached with both hands to the right wooden block on her tit, and in a single gesture, disengaged the locking clips on both sides. She gasped, inhaling like a freediver reaching the surface, but she did not scream. The tip of her tit started to slowly return to a human color, while the stripe where we wood had bitten transitioned from a raw red with pale undertones, to a dark, bruised and chafed deep purple. He continued to free her other breast as well. 

Her mounds regained their original shapes to the extent they could, marked as they were by the extreme abuse they had been through. They were still weighted down by the four large and vicious metal hooks that pierced them from bottom to top, now free floating in her flesh.

One by one, he proceeded to slide the curved metal out of her malleable flesh. It was harder than he would have thought, her tits were holding tightly to the steel. And so he had to inflict more pain pulling on the hooks to get them free. Her body contracted under the tugs, and her arms now free started to make small instinctive gestures and to shake. But she resisted any urge she may have had of cupping her breasts, or to push Hank's hands off. She suffered the removal of the meat hooks from her breasts in silence. Additional blood gushed from the openings left by removing the metal implements, sliding on her sides and pooling to the center of her chest. It was like war paint on a tired fighter, getting them ready for the next battle.

Getting off the altar, Hank opened the black case, retrieved a bottle of disinfectant and cotton pads, which he used to clean up the open wounds on her breasts, before applying medical ointment. He also attended to all the notches on her skin, where the leather tip had cut marks in her skin. 

And then it was time. Standing at the side of the altar, beside Eosi, he turned the blowtorch on maximum setting and started the long process of heating the metal “H”. There was a “wushhh” from the flame as it turned on. The powerful heat started to radiate and cast a blue light on her bruised body, contrasting with the warm glow of the candles.

She turned her head to get a look at the flame licking the metal. Hank could feel the power of the torch on his bare hairy chest, he was holding it at arm's length and he barely could stand the intensity.  Sweat droplets were starting to form on the side of Eosi’s body. It was a long moment of silence, almost meditative, until finally subtle hues of a dark red started to glow from the edges of the forged metal letter. The brand was ready. It did not escape Eosi’s attention, who was fixated on the implement.

Hank called his two friends to join him, one on each side of the altar where the slave was laying. Both of them seemed mesmerized by the solemnity of the moment. They didn’t say a word. Whatever they may have thought of these events, they kept it to themselves. Hank handed the torch and the iron to Francisco, signaling him to keep fanning the flame on the incandescent metal.

He then dropped and stepped out of his pants, uncovering his very erect penis. He  positioned himself standing against the short edge of the altar at Eosi’s feet. He was standing at the end of the stone altar, fully nude, his straight member hovering over the stone. In front of him, Eosi was lying down on her back, her legs slightly apart, her eyes lost far past the ceiling of the crypt, her bruised and tired body resting on the cold hard stone. With each hand he grabbed her by the top of her calves, below her knees and pulled her body towards him while opening her legs, exposing her slit in the process. Her lips, darker than the rest of her skin, were slightly parted like a secret door giving a glimpse of her soft, pink glistening folds. Despite, or maybe because of all her suffering, she was still wet. He kept pulling her towards him until her ass was halfway off the stone surface.

Grabbing one of her feet with each hand, he opened her legs fully and guided her to bend her knees and cross her ankles, right in front of him, in a sort of lying down crossed-legs position. He then lowered her crossed ankles down the hard-stone side of the altar, to a level just above his knees, and then he leaned his whole body forward, trapping her crossed ankles between the stone and himself. He adjusted his feet back and leant forward further, so his full weight now pressed against her and squashed her against the hard, cold and rough surface. She was locked for good, there would be no escape for her legs. 

In addition to trapping her, the position was forcing her legs almost impossibly open, to the point where her smooth brown lips were now completely parted beneath his eyes. He could see that her raised clitoris had pulled free of its hood, standing erect. And below, the pink folds of her vagina opening were glistening with slime. She may have been exhausted, broken, but her body was betraying her, showing that below the suffering there was a deep arousal. For one last cruel move, he pulled her hips even closer to him, bringing her already stretched open legs further apart, her strained muscles clearly apparent under the skin of her thin thighs. Her most intimate parts were fully exposed to him, vulnerable and absolutely defenseless. Her moist velvet opening seemed to beg for his hard cock to ram itself into its depths. But not yet. His member, pulsating with excitement, was now resting on her mons. He saw, and felt, a shiver coursing through her body when, adjusting himself one last time, the bottom of his shaft brushed against her raised love button.

He seized her hands and slid her forearms under the small of her back, asking her to grip them together and hold tight. She didn’t answer, her gaze still lost, but she did obey. He saw her twitch as she relaxed her arching back and rested her spine on her interlocking forearms. That painful spot again, he thought. 

She was now in position. Grabbing back the glowing metal and the torch from Francisco, he asked each of his friends to push down and hold Eosi’s shoulders tightly against the stone. She was fully locked, held tight by the three men against the cold stone. 

Before proceeding, before the burning metal would touch her soft flesh, there was one last step to climb, one last show of submission he needed from her. He wanted her to ask for it. 

Yes, they had discussed the impending ordeal multiple times, which had turned her on to an incredible level. But that usually happened when she was comfortably sitting next to him, her fingers running between her legs, with maybe a pair of nipple clamps on. It was easy to dream of grand punishments and ordeals, tucked in next to her Master, in a state of sexual arousal spiced up with a zest of pain. Now she was in brutal pain, her flesh had been pierced, her skin broken. Her body and mind were exhausted, pushed to her limits. And she was held down by three men, not to prevent a hypothetical attempt to escape, but to contain the extreme reaction her body was bound to have when the burning metal would press on her skin. She had been tortured already past anything she had experienced before, and an even bigger ordeal was coming. This was the Eosi he wanted to hear begging. The one broken by the pain.

- “Slave, tell us what is next for you. I want to hear it from your mouth.”

- “Master… Sir…” she said in a hoarse, distant voice. She hadn’t spoken for a time and was still lost in the intensity of her experience.

She made a visible effort to come back to reality and gather her thoughts.

- “You are going to mark me as yours… Master.”

- “Describe how.”

- “You are going to burn me. You are going to burn your initial into my flesh… Master.”

She was getting more responsive with each question.

- “And when it is done, can it ever be removed?”

- “No Master, I will be marked as yours forever.”

As she was talking, her eyes were fixated in the glowing metal.

- “Are you scared, slave? Are you scared of how much it will hurt?”

- “Master, yes… Master. ” her tone was becoming frail, hesitant. “I am afraid it will hurt more than I can stand…”

Amongst the beads of sweat that had now spread to her whole body and to her face, Hank could see tears forming again at the corner of her eyes.

- “And yet, you are going to ask me to do it. You are going to beg me to press the burning iron into your flesh.”’

Her lips pouted, her chin frowned, her eyes squinted, she was about to cry, she was on the point of breaking.

- “I don’t know… Master… Please… I don’t know if I can…” she replied with a high pitched voice, struggling to refrain from sobbing.

- “Yes you can, slave. And you will.”

- “Yes… Master…”

She was managing to control herself, but right at the edge of losing the fight with her mind and her body.

- “Go on then. Beg!”

She took a deep breath.

- “Master, please I beg you to burn me and mark you as your slave forever. Master… please…” she mustered the last remnants of her determination.

- “And you truly deserve it, don’t you, Eosi. For everything you have done.”

She started crying again.

- “Yes Master, sniff, I deserve it, sniff, I deserve to be hurt over and over! I’m sorry Master…”

Was she begging for forgiveness? Was she giving in to her lust for pain? Did she even know? Did it make any difference, Hank wondered?

- “And you will suffer by my hand, Slave.” he said, staring at her.

With these words, he slowly pulled his hips back. His swollen glans slid down from her mons, rubbed her erect clit and continued down onto the soaked skin of her inner folds. When he reached the opening of her hole, he pushed in, slowly. He felt her moist flesh open and give way to his member, each corrugation of her tight vaginal walls slowly sliding against his sensitive skin, his member progressing deeper into her. She gave a soft moan in response. He pushed until his crotch was against hers, his hard cock was fully inside her. He could feel her tight grip on him, and was sure her delicate organ could feel the pulses of his blood, the twitching of his rod inside her. They were connected, body and soul.

- “By this brand, you are submitted to me forever” he declared in a soft voice. 

She didn’t react to his words, she was hypnotized by the bright red “H“ now moving closer and closer. Hank gripped his hand tightly on the handle. There would be no trembling, there would be no hesitation. He was going to imprint the burning metal on the top of her mons, where the tight skin of her lower belly curved up. If she was to wear a low cut skirt, the mark would be visible to the world.  Eosi’s breath was accelerating quickly. It was close, the letter casted a bright glow on her tan skin. Her pristine skin would never be the same after this moment. 

And he pushed down. Hard.

There was a sizzling sound, and an instant odor of burnt meat. A deafening scream from Eosi. It was a long, high pitched wail, her whole body contracted. Francisco held steady but the poor John got shaken by her twisting. He held as he could. Hank felt the strong jerk in her criss-crossed legs, she tried hard to kick and flail. His weight and anchor was too strong for her, she did not get free. And he felt every motion of her struggle on his clock firmly planted inside of her. The walls of her most intimate organ twitched and squeezed his member, pushing him close to the point of no return. Her reaction was electifying, it was the epitome of him taking an indescribable pleasure from her raw suffering. It was their relation, in all its cruelty and all its beauty.

Then suddenly, the scream stopped, her whole body relaxed in an instant, and her head dropped on the stone surface. She passed out.

Hank heard a “Hold on Amigo…” behind him. Eosi was not the only one who was in shock, John leg’s were also giving way below him. Francisco reacted quickly, rushed around the altar, caught the old man and held him up. After he walked the landlord back to his chair, Hank handed the iron to Francisco again, asking him to help with more water to cool it down. Then he turned to admire the body of his unconscious slave. 

The skin, seared where the iron had made contact, was changing color to a dull white, blisters were quickly developing around the burns. The irreversible damage was done, she was his thing now, absolutely and forever. The brutal injury was a total contrast with her peaceful limp resting body. The brand was at the same time a mark of scorching violence, willingly received as a mark of extreme submission, and its slight weaving under her peaceful breath a testament to the vulnerable being that was now his.

The last time he saw her like this, hurt, unconscious and defenseless was in the hotel room when they were framing that cop. Now he was in total control, of the situation and of her. The lengthy discussions they had as they were preparing for the day. Exploring the limits, how far they could push. The “what if” questions? What if something went wrong, and what if there is a risk of maiming or severe injury? What if she was unconscious or not able to show consent? The response had always been the same from the submissive:

- ”I am putting myself in your hands Master. I am entrusting myself to you completely. My well-being is not my concern or responsibility any more, it is yours. With our union I surrender that burden to you. I make the decision to live with any consequence of that act. So, you are the judge, or what you can do to me.” she had said, with emphasis on that last “you.”

Those words had resonated deeply into his soul. But he remembered a part of him thinking these might be just words, knowing how carried away she could sometimes be with her extreme fantasies. Now it was very real. Now she was laying motionless in front of him, with open wounds in her breasts, a severe burn on her lower belly and his throbbing member deep inside of her. He pulled his cock back slowly, and then pushed it in again with a grunt of pleasure. She was his to take. And he started to pump into her, in a slow deliberate motion.

She woke up with a gasp after only a few pushes from his hips. She resumed her crying and screaming at first, but as Hank was sliding back and forth inside her, the screams subsided, turning into moans instead. She relaxed her hands and slid them out of their trapped position under the small of her back, and slowly moved them to her chest. She cupped her small mounds, and started to gently squeeze them, while grimacing through the increased pain. Her breathing accelerated as Hanks accelerated his movement, and the slow caresses of his member turned into strong, powerful thrusts. 

And soon her whole body shook from an earth shattering orgasm. Hank felt the rapid contractions of her vaginal walls again on his member, it pushed him over the edge and he squirted repeated loads inside her. He was in heaven. As he was calming down, looking at her silent breathing, he felt her hip resuming their motion. Once again he saw her fingers contracting around her tits and she came a second time, with his softening member still inside of her. He let the earthquake pass, before pulling out of her sex, panting, wondering if she would be shaken once more. But it was not to be. 

Hank was fulfilled and exhausted, and Eosi had just come twice from the extreme torture he had inflicted her. After recovering, he covered her searing burn with ointment and with a plastic film, as to avoid any complications. He had been careful to select a cream without numbing agent. According to her wishes, there would be no protection from the lasting pain. 

He turned to his friends. Francisco was supporting John and they both looked like ghosts. Hank guessed it would take them a while to digest what they had witnessed. Eosi, lying on the stone, looked weak, exhausted, spent. Nevertheless, when their gazes met, he saw tenderness and affection in her eyes. Her mouth and eyes formed a faint smile. He had driven her through hell and back, and they had come out together. Their connection was stronger than ever.