The Sadist

Mr. Dessad betrays no hint of emotion as the hands are revealed around the table. He let's the exclamations around the table announce his hand.

"How the Hell did he..." Principal Latimore becomes apoplectic with rage.

"Well I'll be Gee Deed! A royal effing flush!" Mr. Roberts is flabbergasted.

"Congratulations Darren, you've won yourself a ****. Not a bad investment for 10 grand." Your former Daddy seems all to happy to divest of his investment for the 30,000 in "winnings" he collected from the table. He can't, or won't hide the look of disgust for his former son, now whorish sissy slut.

"And you know I always see a return on my investments. One way or the other." You aren't sure which part of Mr. Dessad's icy words are more terrifying, and you settle on all of them. You look around the room, hopelessly scanning for a chance of rescue from Mr. 50 Shades of Fucking Crazy Evil, but despite the look of frustrated loss in Principal Latimore's eyes, and the surprising sadness in Mr. Robert's, you know they'd never welch on a bet with another man.

"Come, my canvas, I'm going to paint my masterpiece on your pristine, porcelain flesh." Mr. Dessad has already dressed and is ready to leave in the moment you scanned the room. You shudder at his touch as he leads you by the hand away from your childhood home and into the depths of Hell, or is it the heights of Heaven? You clearly, so dearly sought out punishment, maybe Hell will feel like Heaven to a deviant, demonic sissy succubus like you?

He leads you wordlessly to his sleek Lamborghini, and ever the "gentleman" opens the door to the passenger side for you to crawl in. As he makes his way around to the driver's side you have a fleeting panicked thought to lock the doors, but he has the keys, and he's so terrifying calm, you never want to see him angry. He grabs a large tuft of your hair by the base and twists it painfully. You yell in pain and feel his grip tighten in response.

"We're going to take the scenic route home, and you're going to be sucking my cock the entire way home. Now I've been told you're a complete virgin in the ways of giving pleasure, but don't worry, I'll let you know when you're doing a good job." He pulls again and tears sting your eyes. He lowers you down to his crotch and fishes out his erect, eight inch cock.

"But even a dumb animal knows how to swallow. And if you even can't manage that simple task, well first I want you to imagine the most horrific fate you can think of." You shudder as you slobber around the spongy mushroom head of his cock, hoping your dumb drool will help lube your throat. You hate your shameful sissy clitty for throbbing against your rubber skirt and traitorous tongue for tingling tantalized by his musky taste. Your sissy cunt clamps down tight around the plastic beads crammed deep inside, making you weak and willing to be filled in whatever hole you can.

"And then I want you to remember how much smarter and more imaginative I am then you, then imagine what kind of horrors I would have in store for you. And, trust me my canvas, that's just the foreplay." You **** his cock deeper in your throat, stretching it searingly. Your brain is sending every pain signal it has to tell you to slow down. By the time it's reached "impaled on a molten spit, you feel his balls resting on your chin.

"Good...for a dumb animal. Now if you want to avoid the second worst punishment I can imagine, you'll make me cum before we get home." Your mind reels. This morning you were sure you were a straight boy. Now you have to figure out how to make his thick, tasty cock cum without ever having experienced anything more than your own hand. You run your tongue back up his shaft and feel his pulse quicken against it. You realize even if you don't know what you're doing, your hungry mouth does.

You swirl your tongue around his cockhead and suck out a precious pearl of precum between your plump, pouty lips. You tighten your mouth around his cock and bob down in a slick spiral, moaning as your tongue darts quickly against the pulsing vein running down his shaft. You feel a sharp shooting pain has he pulls your hair tighter.

You whimper wet and whingeing, then slide down quicker on his cock, feeling his pubes tickle your nose as you stretch your tongue painfully until you can lap at his balls. Your throat milks his cock as you struggle for air, ignoring the agony and focusing on his pleasure alone. He pulls tighter, your scalp singing a song of suffering.

You pull back up, gasping, drooling, your sissy clit leaking like a sieve, you go all out, impaling yourself on his shaft over and over, the gluttonous glugs and wet smacks of his balls bouncing off your chin making sweet music, punctuated by your melodious moans as he yanks at your hair with every throat filled thrust.

That's when you realize, the pain IS his way of telling you that you're doing a good job. Pain is your reward. And as sick as that sounds, the moment he fills your thirsty throat with his seed and claims a fistful of your hair, you cum harder and more sufferingly savagely than you ever have in your life.

You lay spasming, shivering as you suck up every last sweet, salty drop. "Hmm. Not too terrible. Potentially worth developing. And good news, Bitch, you finished with seconds to spare. Now I want you to imagine the third worst thing I can imagine. That's going to be your REWARD."

You moan in terrified, trembling need. You HAVE to know what he has in store for you. He has led you up to the gates of Purgatorial Paradise, of Hedonistic Hell...and you are ready to skip through, hand in suffering hand.