1 Name: Hechter : 2009-09-13 21:33
A request I wrote for someone. Thought it should see the light of the intertoobs.
All the young boy had felt was cold; cold from his old cell, cold from the van floor he had been laying on while he had been tied up, cold hands with sharp nails picking him up and tossing him now into this, a cold room.
The cloth was pulled from his eyes, and behind him, a heavy door slammed shut. Shivering, he picked his naked body up off the floor. The basement room he was in was damp, and poorly lit; three small windows on one wall showed grass growing beyond them. Somewhere, water could be heard dripping.
The boy wandered among devices of which he had no idea; crates full of bizarre instruments, shelves lined with jars full of things beyond description. A cold dread had come over him. He had been abused all his short life, locked in a dark basement. But this... this was worse, he just knew it.
On the corner of a table, he found a device with a hand shape on it. Remembering the ancient handprint in a concrete slab in the basement he had been in all his life, he placed his hand on it. To his horror, the block with the hand outline sank downward, skewering his hand on three spikes that shot up through it. Screaming, he pulled his hand upward off the spikes; the block sprung upward, covering the blood bathed spikes once more.
He clutched his hand as the blood ran down his arm, to drip from his elbow. The boy ran in a blind panic, barely noticing as the broken concrete floor cut into the soles of his feet. In his rush, he tripped, sprawling backwards into the open door of an iron maiden. Half a dozen spikes dug into his back; with a fresh scream, he pulled himself off, blood running over his ass and down his legs. Unable to stand, he collapsed onto his knees, weeping. The dank room's single door opened before him then, and through it stepped a woman. She was the boys mother, Amanda.
The boy raised his head; for a moment, all he could see were her feet - the feet he had been trained to love since he was born. Today, she wore black leather pumps, the toes of which had been lengthened to a point. The hard soles were inset with dozens of metal studs for traction; though the boy knew all to well how they stung his cheek.
The pumps were open from just behind the toes to the ankle; the top of her foot, well muscled and defined, was bare. The boy could not remember all the times he had licked the top of those feet; licked them clean from sweat and filth alike.
Above the ankle, the pumps formed into a black leather boot that ended just above her knees. Her thighs were exposed, her perfect skin glistening in the low light of the room. A leather strap was all that covered the slight bulge of her pussy. As the boy looked at it, he saw a drop of cum form and fall from it, and thought back to the week when he was allowed only her cum to drink, nothing else. His eyes moved up her body; instead of a shirt, she wore a strap outfit that outlined her stomach and well-defined breasts. She wore gloves on her hands; he liked when she wore gloves. It kept her nails from scraping his skin away, sometimes until it bled.
He lookd at her sculpted neck; the dim light only just highlighting the slight bulge of her adams apple. Their eyes met; she smiled, and raised her left eyebrow in an inquisitive manner. "Has my little boy gotten a boo-boo?" she asked, her tone one of contempt. She stared at him as one would an unsightly mongrel; the gaze lasted but a moment. "Foot.", she said. The boy looked at her, his pain-wracked brain trying to comprehend.
"FOOT!" she screamed, crossing the distance between them in a single bound. She raised her left leg; the boy knew what was coming. She kicked straight out; the flat of her foot caught him on the cheek, the slightly-sharpened studs digging into his soft skin. He reeled backward, feeling as his cheek began to welt. Amanda's mouth formed a tight grin; she had done worse before - but this was only a demonstration. She was on him in an instant, her gloved hand wrapping around his throat. She spoke in a hateful hiss: "All this time, and you don't know the meaning of "foot"? Worship. My. Foot!"
With that, she let him go; the back of his head hit the concrete hard. Tears welling up in his eyes, he obliged. He crawled over to her left foot; wrapped one hand around the point and the other on her leg-boot, and began to lick the top of her foot. He was slow and methodical; he had had practice. Gently, he began sucking, massaging her skin with his tongue as he did so. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back, a slight moan escaping. Both had done this countless times; she had trained him well. The blood from his wounded hand ran down the black leather of her boot and onto her skin; he dilligently licked it clean, even as fresh blood flowed. She looked down on him as he licked his own blood from her; a shiver of satisfaction ran through her - satisfaction that turned to a shock of pleasure straight to her pussy as she saw the blood from his back wounds run down his asscrack and onto his premature genitals, dripping from his small penis and pooling beneath him.
Here eyes snapped open, and she swung her leg forward. Unprepared, the pointed toe of her shoe caught the boy just below the right eye; she felt as it hooked into his skin and flung him backward. He closed his eyes, pain spiking through his face - why, he wondered. She had not done anything like this since his earliest tries at foot-worship, when she felt he had to be disciplined. Had he been unsatisfactory...? He let out a sob, even as his naked body hit the concrete. The floor gouged into his already bleeding back. Amanda was on him again. She removed her glove and wrapped her hand around his throat once more. Her nails dug into his skin; her thumbnail cut into the side of his neck with such force that a thin trickle of blood formed under her nail. With an inhuman scream, she lifted him and tossed him against a wall and into a shelf.
The hard wood of the shelf caught him in the lower back, just above the ass. His yelp turned to a shriek as his back smashed into several jars; they broke and toppled off the shelf with him. He was silenced as he hit the ground, the shattered jars and their contents breaking ontop of him, shards of glass digging into his shoulder blades. In his pain, he recovered quickly, and with a fresh scream, his hands flailed at his back; one of the shards had entered the puncture from his earlier fall into the iron maiden. Try as he might, he couldnt reach it, and was reduced to wallowing around in the broken glass and their dark contents.
"Need a hand?" Amanda chimed in, her voice bitter-sweet. She placed a foot on his head, pressing it into the floor and immobalizing him for a moment. She had a pair of pliers in her hand; she reached down and grabbed the shard of glass. Yet instead of pulling it out, she jammed it in a little further. The boy let out a sharp yelp, which was quickly cut off as Amanda pressed the pointed toe of her shoe into his neck, threatening to crush his windpipe. "Oh, was that the wrong way?" she chided. "Well, as they say, lefty-loosey..." and with that, she turned the glass shard in the wound to the left; the cut opened further and blood began to run down. He whimpered; she twisted it further. "Oh well, perhaps this is one of those reverse-threads..." she said, and turned it the other way. His whimper almost became a scream, but was cut short as her shoe dug into his throat. "Hm, I guess this will have to work, then..." and with that, she yanked it out. His body jerked involuntarily, his arms and legs flailing as the shard came out all at once.
"You're such a bad boy...!" she said, disgust in her voice. "You should sit still when the doctor tries to help you. I guess I'll have to tie you to the examination table..."
With that, she picked him up. Still limp from the pain, he was in no shape to fight as she dropped him chest-first over a barrel. The barrels ends were locked into a stand; the barrel itself could be rotated. Around this she wrapped him spread-eagle, using the manacles built into the barrel to lock his arms and legs in place.
As she locked his left leg into place, the cold metal raising goose-bumps on his skin and digging into his thigh, she commented, "I think I should take this for a spin..."
Walking around infront of him, she slid a gloved finger down under her pussy strap and convulsed in pleasure. She brought the finger back covered in cum; this she put to the boys lips. "Clean it.", she said. He opened his mouth; she inserted her finger, a slight line of cum forming on his lips. He sucked for a long moment - such had been his pacifier as a baby. It was almost comforting, in a way; though he remembered the pain from when she had dug her long nail into his tongue once before.
She withdrew the finger, and, almost before the boy had realized what was happening, had thrown herself onto the barrel. No, not onto his back - onto his face. The boy gave a gasp as her pussy pressed into his lips; his open mouth was greeted by a sticky flow of pre-cum. Thus she began grinding his face into her groin, his nose rubbing her clit. Then she threw herself into a violent pattern, rotating the barrel back and forth as she humped his face, crushing it into her pussy. He gasped for breath, and felt his mothers soft skin pushing into him. He couldnt see; cum had gotten in his eyes. He couldnt breath. Back and forth she rocked, moaning, using her sons face as some sort of bizarre fuckpad. The wheel sqeaked as it rolled back and forth to her rythm, the boy attempted to cry out, but he was stifled as, with a long moan, she came, her cum spurting down into his mouth. Instead of a shout, he found himself choked and shut his mouth in reflex; her sticky love-sap ran all over his face and, in turn, all over her groin and down her thighs.
Stepping back a moment, she considered the state of her crotch. With a purr, she leaned down and forced one of the boys eyes open. A single tear rolled down through the cum on his face. "Clean me." she ordered, and pressed her pussy to his lips once more. Dilligently, he began licking and sucking, gulping down her sex fluid as best as he could. After a span, he stopped, gasping for air. "What, done already...? I'm still sticky, brat."
The boy looked up apologetically, and to his shock, was met with the tip of her shoe as she kicked upward into his nose. He felt as though his nose had been broken; indeed, a trickle of blood ran down from his nostril and onto his lip. The barrel rolled backward, stopped only when his feet hit the ground. "NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" she screamed, lashing out with a her left foot. The top of her foot connected with his right cheek; his head snapped sideways, a sharp pain spiking through his neck. She felt his head give way, and grinned a little on the inside - she would never tire of exploiting the weakness of little boys.
She went over to a table, and lifted from it a long silver object with a strap. "You know this, brat. I've threatened you with it, all these years... but I thought if I used it, I'd kill you, and that just wouldnt do." She fitted the rod around her still-seeping pussy, and strapped it behind you. "You know its name. Its a strap-on... and I'm going to use it on you just like I've wanted to all along."
His eyes widened as she walked past; it was a good two inches around, and eight inches long. The shaft was perfect stainless steel, icey cold. She walked slowly behind him... he tightened his ass cheeks in fearful anticipation. She pried those very cheeks apart with her hands, and fitted the tip of the steel dildo to his imposibly small virgin asshole. She releaed his cheeks; they tightened around the dildo, and he shivered. She reached out and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back. He gritted his teeth and let out a silent sob, tears of dread falling from his cum-lathered cheeks. With a scream, she pulled on his hair head, rocking him backward, and thrust forward, impaling him on the steel rod like a sword.
He screamed as he had never screamed before; the pain as his asshole split wide was incredible. His scalp felt as though it would tear off, but that was nothing; he could feel the seemingly huge rod in his ass, pressing against his inner walls. His screamed seemed as though it wouldnt end as Amanda savored it; savored the feeling of power this gave her. She had felt it push into his insides, felt them give way to her force, felt his hair as it began to tear out. This was a perfect moment between a son and his mother; he was as taught as a string, every muscle straining to escape the pain in his ass. the pain in his scalp seared into his brain; he could not see, he could only feel the pain. For a long moment, Amanda left it there, savoring the moment as she felt the rod sink ever so slightly deeper into the son she so despised. She released his hair; his head snapped forward, his jaw catching the barrel. His scream broke into a terrible sob; and then his head shot back up and he screamed once more as, ever so slowly, she drew the long shaft from him. His scream became a pain-wracked moan as the steel object left him, its perfectly polished surface glistening red and pink in virgin blood. He collapsed across the barrel, fainting from the pain as the very tip emerged, the blood of his insides still dripping from it.
"Pain... the bodies greatest weakness. I think I'll use it to wake him up" Amanda said as she unbuckled the strap on, letting it fall to the floor and form a small pool of the boys blood beneath it. She lit a candle, and taking up a scalpel, bent over the boy. She made an incision; the boy twitched. She drew the incision out a good two inches. It ran upward from the top of his asscrack; she reveled as she saw blood seep from his ass to drip once more from his child's genitals. She cut again, and again; she cut an eight pointed star into his lower back. Blood welled up from it. Taking up the candle, a pool of wax now formed in it, she poured it into the open wound.
"It'll stop the bleeding," she said as the boy awoke with a scream and a spasm, struggling against his bindings as the burning molten liquid flowed into his cuts. It felt as if someone was burning a hole into him; his entire body was wracked with pain. He felt as if his insides were on fire, and he went limp once more as it cooled, covering the bleeding star in his back completely. He had never known such pain could be felt; again, he wondered why his mother would do this to him after all this time. He saw her as she tended to a brazier, heating it up and looking over a rack of sharp and pointed instruments on the wall. He shut tight his eyes against the tears, and against this glimpse into what the last days of what his short and painful life would bring.