Payne Mansion Ch. 01

Sep 10, 2018
The following story is sadistic fiction, and in no way depicts actual events. It contains descriptions of cruelty and torture against an unwilling vulnerable male victim. All characters are clearly depicted as being over the age of 18.

She opened the large oak door with a deceptively warm smile. With her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in a white tailored V neck T-shirt, form fitting khaki slacks, and superbly polished brown leather riding boots Monique looked like your average twenty-five year old debutante. Her pants and boots hugged her strong, yet shapely, legs, and V neck superbly showcased her ample bosom. "Is this our new resident?" she said.

"This is Tony Blair," the ambulance driver said pointing to the wheelchair bound forty-eight year old man. Tony had been born with cerebral palsy. His mind was sharp enough, but he couldn't control his body well enough to walk, feed himself, etc... His father, the last of his family, had died recently, and the state had placed Tony in the group home Monique owned and managed.

"I have him," she said as she took the wheelchair's handlebars in her hands. Two staff members dressed in white tight fitted V neck Tees, white spandex yoga shorts, and red polished leather pumps carried in his boxes of personal stuff while Monique brought him into the house and closed the door. As soon as the door was closed, Monique picked up a riding crop and two more staff members began to take Tony's clothes off.

"Hey!" Tony objected. "D-d-don't..."

His words were met with a sharp blow to the back of his head. "You will only speak when you're told to speak, which won't be often," Monique said. "Nobody cares about what you think or feel. You have no rights here. My name is Monique Payne, and I own this mansion."

Monique was the daughter of William and Mary Payne. William had made his fortune in textiles at an early age. He had a hundred room mansion built twenty miles outside of Portland to give his family privacy. Surrounded by forest, the house remained free of prying eyes.

Monique grew up wanting for nothing. Anything she wanted, or even thought she wanted, was instantly provided for her. Toys, clothes, concert tickets, and cars were given to her by her father whenever she made her desires known. Her parents ignored her penchant for causing pain to others; their princess could do no wrong.

When she was twenty- three years old, her parents were killed in a car accident giving her total ownership of the Payne fortune. Being rich and bored, she had her family home turned into a group home for crippled adult males with no family. Thanks to generous contributions to the Department of Human Services, spot checks were rubber stamped sight unseen. Since the residents had no family to oversee their care, Monique was free to do as she pleased.

"You're here for my amusement and the amusement of my all woman staff," she continued.

Terror filled Tony's face. He scanned the room trying to process his situation. A red headed staff member was relaxing with a book on one of many luxurious sofas in the ornate living room. Stretched across a footstool was a gaunt looking handicapped man with the red head's casually crossed on top of his back.

Another staff member was listening to an IPod and using a handicapped man as a dance floor. A man with a severe limp and spastically deformed hands from a milder form of cerebral palsy was struggling to sweep a section of the floor.

"Ma'am," a staff member said. "What should we do with his belongings?"

"You girls can pick through it and take whatever you want, then incinerate the rest."

"N-n-n-no....," Tony said only to be interrupted by Monique's riding crop landing across his face.

"I told you not to speak!" she said. "From now on, you are a possession, a sub-human thing to be used and abused as I see fit. You will own nothing because you are nothing. Residents that can walk are classified as limpers. Limpers do the housework and are fed daily so they can work. Residents like you are classified as droolers and are used as play things for me and my beautiful staff."

"Picture p-p-p-please," Tony said.

The staff member closest to Tony slapped him hard across the face and forced his head down by grabbing the back of his neck. "You'll stay quiet unless you're screaming in pain. Got it worm! Mistress Payne owns you!"

"Well said Charlotte," Monique said. "But, just for shits and giggles lets see what picture he's talking about." She looked through the boxes until she found a framed picture of Tony's family dressed in their Sunday best. "Is this what you want, a picture of your family?"

"Y-y-y-yes p-p-p-please," he said.

Monique smiled, dropped the picture on the floor, and stomped on it. She twisted her foot back and forth pulverizing the glass beneath the hard block heel of her boot. Tony began to cry which made Monique and her sadistic minions roar with laughter. The broken glass cut the picture to shreds as she ground her boot into it. "Your family is all gone, nobody loves you." She turned her attention to the limper with the broom, pointed to the demolished picture, and said, "Clean that up maggot!"

The slave hobbled obediently toward the mess. One of the girls stuck her leg out as he went by, sending him crashing onto his face. "Trip the crip," she said with glee, spawning another round of uproarious laughter.

Monique turned and left the room. Charlotte pushed the wheelchair, following the head mistress down the long hall. Mistress Payne stopped at a heavy metal door. Beside the door was a shelf with a jar of camphor ointment. She put some of the ointment under her nose and handed the jar to Charlotte who did the same without offering any to Tony.

The sickening stench of feces and urine assaulted Tony as the door creaked open. Six crippled men, of various ages and races, lay strewn on the floor covered in their own waste and odd scraps of food. "This is where we store most of our droolers." Monique explained. "We toss them scraps of food a few times a week, and otherwise ignore them. If we want to use one, we simply rinse one off and do what we want with the thing."

"P-p-p-please don't p-p-put me i-i-i-in here," he begged her.

Monique lifted Tony's head with the tips of her manicured fingers and grinned. "No, you have an indwelling catheter and colostomy bag. I have another plan for you." She lead Tony and Charlotte back into the hall and closed the door to the storage room.

A moment later she was opening the door to her private office. She stopped just inside the doorway and a tongue began to lick her boots. The licker's body was confined in a polished wooden box, which was locked shut. Only his head stuck out of the end near the door, and it was his job to kiss and lick his mistress's feet when she entered the room. Other than that, he was ignored and was expected to stay silent.

Chained facing the far corner of the office was another drooler. He had been hung by his wrists so that his feet dangled just above the floor. Catheter and colostomy bags collected his waste and an IV delivered enough nutrition to keep him alive. Thanks to the bags he never had to be moved and could simply hang there as her personal whipping post. His eyes and mouth had been sewn shut and his ears had been completely filled with wax. Unable to see, hear, or speak, he had nothing to focus on but the pain of the whip on his back.

"Feet to hips, arms at sides," was all Monique said as she took a bundle of ropes from the cupboard. Upon hearing the command, Charlotte took Tony's seat belts off, picked up the back of the wheelchair, and dumped the terrified newbie onto the hard wood floor with a thud. He saw stars when his unprotected head hit the ground.

Without delay, Charlotte helped her boss tie their victim's ankles together. Then they bent his knees so that his feet were touching his butt cheeks, and tied them in place to prevent him from straightening his legs. Once that was done, and his arms were affixed to his sides, Monique opened a cabinet at the end of her desk. Their helpless prisoner was placed inside the cabinet so that only the tips of his knees supported his weight.

They closed the cabinet around him so only his head poked out from the top. It looked like the bust of a head was resting on her desk. His knees dug into the unforgiving wood and hurt more than they had ever hurt before. "P-p-p-p-please," was all he could say before receiving a punch to the face.

"No, that won't do," Monique said. "I can't have this thing yapping while I'm trying to work."

"Ball gag?"

"No Charlotte, I have something better," Monique said with an evil gleam in her eye. She shuffled through her desk drawer until she found a brace with straps. The brace fit into her slave's mouth. A series of steel prongs fit behind his teeth to keep him from spitting it out. Once the straps were secured around his head, she used the screws on the sides of the brace to crank his mouth open. When it was wide enough that she was sure his jaw ached with pain, she pushed the screws in to lock it in place.

"He won't be able to talk, but he can still scream," Charlotte said. "Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all," Monique said. "Some people listen to music while they work, I'll enjoy listening to his screams of pain." The sadist dismissed her helper, sat contentedly in her desk chair, leaned back, and crossed her feet directly in front of her new play thing's face. "Scream for me maggot, go ahead and scream."


New Member
Jan 25, 2013
Great story,love the sadistic abuse of these subhuman slaves,think tony 's face and mouth would make a great ashtray for monique's cigars and cigarettes,thanks for the story,looking forward to much more sadism and abuse !!
Likes: Madison1982
Sep 10, 2005
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I'm glad you all like it. This format will let me play with a wider variety of cruelty, degradation, and TORTURE! Out of curiosity, what were your favorite parts?
The human dance floor, the hanging wipping post, and the head being trapped in the desk.... Maybe it could take a beating as well as being an ashtray.


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
What isn't my favorite part? I think you used your expert dominant skills to open up my mind and carve out some of my most wicked fantasies. Oh, and anything involving torment with female feet is going to appeal to me in a big way. If you've read "My Summer in the Stink Chamber" (also posted in this forum), that should give you some idea of what goes on in my warped brain.