Quinton's Crucible

by Trent Evans

  The old me would probably have hit on her, thinking the piercings and tattoos betrayed a vulnerable mark with low self-esteem and Daddy issues.

  It was almost funny how brutally ironic karma could be.

  “Oh, part of him knows, Lea. I’m just not sure if it’s the conscious part of him. He’s not doing this for him anyway.”

  What?

  “I should have known seeing his… situation.”

  Lea grinned at me, setting down the hard, black case. She dropped to a crouch, her cut-off jean shorts displaying a daring length of tanned and toned thighs. A serpent tattoo in reds, greens and golds snaked its way up the side of one of her legs. It should have been garish, but on her, it was actually attractive, artistic even.

  Opening the case, she retrieved several papers, handing them to Anna. “You’re probably going to have to untie him if you want him to sign these.”

  “Those won’t be necessary. This is a Trust contract.”

  Lea’s keen eyes slid to me. “Is that true?”

  I nodded, even as it felt I was signing my own death warrant.

  “Poor guy.” She rose to her feet. “Where do you want to do it? Might not be very comfy for him to do it at the cross like that.”

  “He’ll manage.”

  My words came out as little more than a cracked rasp. “Um, do what?”

  You know, idiot.

  Neither one of them answered me. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

  I didn’t know, not really. She’d talked about things she might do to me, but many had never come to pass. Perhaps this would be one of those times, I told myself, already suspecting that I was in very deep trouble here.

  The straps holding me to the cross were surprisingly strong despite the fact they were made of thin, supple leather. The chains hoisted my arms up, my legs bound to the lower ends of the cross. My cock was, thankfully, not hard anymore, but the level of humiliation as I stood there bound and helpless before a complete stranger was something that affected me on a physical level, my mouth dry, the sound of my own pulse loud in my ears.

  She’s not really going to do this.

  But what if she did? Was I going to tell her no? Was I capable of doing that anymore? Did I want to do that anymore?

  That I didn’t even know the answer to those questions was even more troubling to me than my shameful display before these women.

  “Quinton is a member of the Trust remanded to my custody. We can waive the usual required forms. There will be a bonus applied to your bill, per the normal arrangement.” Anna gave me a predatory smile. “Besides, I think he’s been looking forward to this, in a way. He is curious to a fault, when it comes to matters of pain.”

  I swallowed hard.

  She was right — in a twisted way. Before I’d been introduced to each new torment, there was something within me that always wondered. How would this pain feel? Was it worse or less intense than the other types?

  “Where would you like me to set up?” Lea’s sculpted dark brow arched, her painted nails gleaming in the warm overhead light. I was already sweating, a bead of it diving down between my ass cheeks. My ass was still sore from Anna’s… use of me.

  My cheeks flushed hotly at the mere thought of it. The experience was shattering in a way nothing else had been, and yet, if I were honest with myself, it was a relief to have finally gotten it over with. I’d known what was coming for so long, and yet not knowing — the pain, the humiliation, the utter feeling of invasion, of losing complete control of everything — was somehow even worse. I knew it now, and though I was still hopelessly confused and embarrassed about it, I had done it. I’d crossed that last line, that final defense torn down.

  Was I now really hers? Or was I simply destroyed, crushed figuratively under her boot?

  The truth was that I didn’t know that either. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

  It would have been nice to have known why both thoughts made my cock begin to stir.

  “Oh, look.” The woman, seeing my rising shaft, glanced at Anna. “Is he one of… those? Been a while since I’ve gotten to work on one who likes the pain.”

  Anna fixed me with a glare too intense for me to hold for long, my growing shame making me look away. My cock was halfway up already, despite the fact I was about to be either pierced or tattooed. Both were going to hurt like hell, and yet, there I was, sporting wood in front of two women who were essentially strategizing how best to hurt me.

  “We’re not sure yet. Quinton and I are still trying to figure out the answer to that question. Your work might be able to help us with that today.”

  “Let me get this set up and we can get started.” The woman pointed at the case on the floor. “Have something I can set this on?”

  The metal cart was rolled over, and I closed my eyes against the shameful vision of what had been done to me the last time I’d seen its stainless steel plane.

  “Perfect,” Lea said, setting the black case down and snapping it open. Revealing a dizzying array of surgical steel instruments, she pulled on powder blue latex gloves. “You decide if you want vertical or horizontal?”

  Anna’s arms clasped under breasts, the pale gray tank top she wore revealing a daring amount of cleavage, her nipples quite prominent through the fabric. Her finger tapped her chin.

  “Let’s go with horizontal. I like the door knocker look.”

  Oh, fuck.

  This was happening.

  “Lidocaine?” Lea stared at my vulnerable chest. I pulled instinctively at the chains holding my arms aloft, knowing for certain now what it was to be.

  Nipples.

  I had no concept of how badly it might hurt, but I’d raked a nipple along artificial turf once in a soccer match in college. It hurt so badly, I’d almost screamed.

  Rather than produce a needle though, she pulled out two long, metal devices.

  Shit.

  They were clamps.

  “Do you want it behind or in front?” Lea wiped the metal down with antiseptic wipes, the medicinal note distinct on the air now.

  “Does it matter?” Anna stepped to my side, laying a cool palm against my ribcage. I shivered at the touch, my gaze fixed on those clamps.

  “Only if you care where the metal is. Some people like a deeper piercing. Others like it as close to the tips as they can.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” I hissed, my balls now pulled up so tight I felt like they were going to disappear inside me. My cock was still hard though. Was I that desperate to come at this point, that even the threat of agonizing pain wasn’t enough to get an erection to subside? It was almost all I thought about in my quiet, alone time. Each night I would be hard multiple times, the erections only subsiding when my body realized there wasn’t a chance in hell of a release anytime soon. It was its own terrible torture.

  “Let’s go with the deeper one then.” Anna met my gaze, her fingers stroking me gently. “You can do this.”

  “No… I can’t.” I could scarcely form the words.

  “Do you want to please me, Quinton?” Her hand eased down my belly, those gently fingers wrapping firmly around my cock, the touch making me gasp. It would take two strokes, max, to make me go off like a geyser.

  Slowly, so slowly, her tight fist coursed up and down my cock, leaving my orgasm just out of reach. I was one of Pavlov’s poor canines, salivating at that glorious goal, just out of reach, the glass tormenting them, showing how close — and yet so far — they were to what they desired most.

  God, I need to come.

  I almost begged her. If she’d just… let me come. I would do anything. I would let Lea stab me with every needle in that case. If only I could empty my aching balls…

  “Oh, God,” I murmured, throwing my head back. “I want…”

  “I know you do, boy.” Anna’s thumbnail scraped at the slit at the end of my cock, the hot sting spicing my mind-blowing arousal. “Oh, I know you do. But you’re not going to until I think you deserve it.”

&n
bsp; Her fist squeezed hard at the base of my penis, the head a strangulated purple-red, quivering in time with my pulse. “Do you deserve it, Quinton?”

  Lea’s big brown eyes glinted as she watched in silence.

  I shook my head, defeated again.

  No!

  I yelled it in my mind, but I didn’t know if it was because she wouldn’t let me orgasm, or because I was about to be speared by sharp, merciless steel in two of the most sensitive parts of my body.

  “Do it. He can take it,” Anna murmured, triumph in her voice as she pulled slowly on my traitorously hard cock yet again.

  Lea’s eyes met mine, her expression sober. “These aren’t going to feel good, but trust me, you’re going to want them.”

  Fixing the first clamp to my nipple, the harsh, stinging pain made me arch in my bonds, Anna using her grip on my penis to hold me in place, cooing at me to be still. The pain kept coming though, deepening, seeming to reach deeper into the muscle, the focused power of it leaving me panting. The second one crushed my nipple between its steel jaws, and I gritted my teeth, the pain not quite as bad as I feared at first. Then it too, deepened, and I was breathing like a bellows, my teeth hurting from the clench of my jaws.

  “Breathe through your nose, boy. Deep, slow breaths.”

  “I’ll be quick as I can, Quinton,” Lea said. “I want you to count down from three for me. Okay?”

  “Three…t—oh fuck!”

  I hadn’t even seen her produce the needle, the steel pushing through my nipple. The pain suddenly spiraled nuclear hot, the intensity of it making my vision gray out at the edges.

  “Breathe,” Anna said it at my ear, stroking my cock faster now. It was a welcome distraction from the agony suffusing my chest. The worst was that it didn’t end, the intensity relentless, even growing, a sickening throbbing now taking shape. The needle punched through the other side of my nipple with what felt like almost a popping sensation, like something sharp piercing a balloon.

  “Okay, break?”

  “Just… get it over with,” I ground out, my eyes shut. I feared even looking down at my chest, feared the pain I knew was coming now all over again.

  “You can do this, boy. You’re being very brave,” Anna said. “Your Mistress’ pussy is so wet right now. If you’re good, and take your piercing with courage, I’ll let you lick it after this.”

  “Oh, fuck, it hurts so bad!” I was almost whimpering it, the torment battering at my control, at my sanity.

  Lea didn’t ask me to count this time, simply pressing the sharp needle home, making me draw a harsh breath, a high-pitched keening escaping my lips as the merciless steel completed its excruciating journey through my flesh.

  “That’s a good boy.” Anna kissed my sweating brow, her breasts pressed to my side, her hard nipples against my flesh. Her words were a husky whisper against my hair. “You have no idea how turned on I am watching you, seeing you take the pain, letting it wash over you. You’re doing it for me, for your Mistress. Tonight, I’m going to touch myself to the memory of the sounds you made as the needles sank into you. My brave, sweet slave.”

  The words barely registered over the annihilating storm of my agony. I wanted to be enraged, wanted to defy her, but the pain was sapping me of my will, breaking me down, reducing me to only sensation, my higher reasoning shut down. There would be time enough to rage. But now, I just needed to endure, to survive the next few minutes.

  I was breathing hard then, sweat pouring from my body, Anna’s relentless hand still keeping me hard.

  “Most men can’t stay hard during that kind of pain,” Lea said, with a quirk of her lips. Her frank remarking on what Anna was doing to me made me want to run and hide, to shelter myself from the women’s avid gazes.

  But like everything else in this place, I had no choice but to take it, to accept that which I was helpless to change.

  “Lucky me,” Anna said, her soft, warm tongue licking the sweat from my brow.

  “These won’t feel good coming off, Quinton, but it’s better to do them now.”

  I nodded quickly, my head beginning to swim. I’d done it, but the pain, as bad as I’d thought it would be, was even worse than my imaginings, far, far worse than the worst beating my captor had meted out to me thus far.

  Part of me wondered whether or not this was indeed just another punishment, or if this was done solely because Anna enjoyed the process, the look of her increasingly subjugated slave.

  The clamps came off and I couldn’t help but jerk in my bonds, grunting over and over as the blood flowed back into crushed capillaries, reawakening fresh throbbing in my tortured nipples. I didn’t dare look down at the studs she’d left in my flesh.

  Meeting my eyes, Lea smiled, naked glee in her brown eyes. “Tough cookie you’ve got here, Ms. Shaw.”

  Anna laughed softly, giving my cock one last squeeze then slapping it away. “More than even he realizes. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he was a natural.”

  “You don’t think he really is?”

  Anna feathered her fingernail against the tip of one of my nipples and I bit off a squeal. It didn’t really hurt, but the fear of more pain was enough to have me cringing with my whole body.

  “Oh, I know he’s not. Which makes this all the more fun.”

  Lea packed her equipment back up, nodding toward my crotch as she glanced at Anna. “Thought about it?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” The pad of Anna’s thumb played with the wetness at the tip of my cock. “Not yet anyway.”

  A chill went down my spine, even though I had no real idea what they were talking about. I knew that whatever it was, that it didn’t bode well for me at all.

  What’s happening to me?

  “Over-the-counter pain meds are fine for the pain. The more you can move the studs, the better — but don’t go longer than a couple hours without turning them. Keep them very clean.” Lea handed Anna a small black velour zippered bag. “The ointment for it is in this bag. Call me if either piercing site gets hot to the touch, or begins to bleed a lot.”

  I shivered at the thought, still unable to look down at them. My chest throbbed so badly, I felt like my nipples must have been like flashing red lights.

  Both of them were silent for a moment, watching my slowly lowering erection. My face blushed so hot that for a blessed moment, I forgot about my screaming nipples.

  “I wasn’t sure it would ever go down,” Anna said, her voice holding a gentle mocking trill. “Was wondering if it was going to take a dose of the strap to get his mind on something else other than his penis.”

  I hung my head in shame.

  Lea sighed, her gaze lingering on my cock a moment longer. Then she patted me gently on the hip. “You did great.”

  “Don’t go anywhere, boy.” Anna’s dark eyes danced as she said it.

  From my helpless perch on my apparatus of woe, I watched the two women walk out of the room, their murmured voices slowly fading, leaving only the receding clack of Anna’s heels down the hallway.

  Chapter 26

  He’d healed much faster than she’d ever imagined. Even better, his nipples had developed a sensitivity that she relished, the tips staying a permanently swollen red-brown, the steel studs keeping them perpetually erect and prominent.

  The golden rings she’d procured looked beautiful on him, the hoops a decoration that made his already muscular chest even more pleasing to the eyes.

  From the day he was fully healed, their lives took on familiar pattern: his days were devoted to training, instructing him on how he was best to serve his Mistress.

  His nights were devoted to her pleasure — and his ordeal.

  Often they were one and the same.

  She found him where she’d left him that morning — chained to her chair in her office. The harness binding his arms behind his back had become an almost permanent fixture for him, the position displaying his piercings, and reinforcing a helplessness she relished making him feel.


  Naked as usual, he knelt at her chair, the thick collar about his neck his only adornment other than the golden rings at his nipples.

  “Kneel up, boy,” she said casually, slipping into her chair in front of him. Her office was airy and uncluttered, one wall dominated by a floor to ceiling bookcase of dark cherry wood, filled with countless books, handed down from three generations of her family. She was one of a long line of readers, though with the naked, silent supplicant at her feet, reading was the last thing on her mind.

  Her massive desk, a stout reclaimed oak affair, stood opposite the bookcase… and was something she rarely ever used except for bending a recalcitrant male over.

  Her dress was a long dark blue, reaching well below her knees, far more demure than she was used to. She opened her legs, easing the fabric up her legs. She watched Quinton watch her, his pale blue, haunted eyes following every move of her fingers as she revealed more and more of her smooth, toned thighs.

  His throat worked as her sex came into view, bare as usual under the dress. She snapped her fingers.

  “Under there. I have work to do.”

  Waiting patiently, she didn’t deign to move as she watched him comply, his shamefaced blushing the only indication he resisted what they both knew she expected.

  The piercing had changed him somehow, revealed another layer of his personality, a yielding that she found very, very attractive indeed. It was entirely possible that she’d effectively brainwashed him by that point, that the combination of pain, and isolation, and constant restraint had simply washed away most of the edifice of control that had defined his previous life. He was a fresh canvas, an empty slate upon which she would begin her work.

  She couldn’t wait to begin.

  You’re kidding yourself again.

  Shaking the thought away, she waited for him to tuck his body under the desk, crouched over his knees. He peered out at her from the darkness, his eyes betraying a tiny glimmer of the diffuse gray light the diaphanous cloth window shades bathed the room in.