Payne Mansion Ch. 02

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 still had her MMA gloves on from her workout as she strolled back to her office. Monique had worked up quite a sweat on the heavy bag. Of course, the punching bag in question was a drooler hanging by his wrists in the workout room. She had fun delivering painful blows to the head, kidneys, liver, and groin area. When she heard a rib crack, and felt his nose break against her knuckle, waves of pure pleasure filled her nether regions. Leaving him hanging there bloody and broken amused her.

The sadistic head mistress was dressed in a black sports bra with hot pink piping, black workout shorts, and $400 black leather high top sneakers. She needed a shower, but there were time sensitive stock trades which needed her attention.

Turning a corner she came across a limper crawling on all fours. Obeying the house rules, he crawled to her and kissed her foot.

"That's a good maggot," she said. "Where are you going?"

"T-t-t-to limpers' q-q-q-quarters M-M-Mistress," he said without looking up. "I have f-f-f-four hours t-to eat some s-s-s-scraps before m-m-my next w-w-work d-d-detail."

Monique smiled wickedly to herself, snapped her fingers, and pointed to the floor behind her. "Follow me," she ordered.

He was exhausted from scrubbing floors for the last sixteen hours and his stomach growled with gnawing hunger. He badly wanted to eat his share of bread crusts, skins of baked potatoes, bits of gristle and go to sleep. Yet, this was the head mistress giving him an order, the head mistress. He knew better than to disobey her.

She stopped in the doorway and let her groveler lick her shoes. It was the only thing he was ever used for. When her feet weren't in range to be kissed and licked, he was expected to keep his nose to the floor and wait, that's it. He was a groveler, and when he wasn't being used he was to be silent and still like the rest of the furniture.

The limper followed his mistress into her office, and knelt under her desk as she instructed him to. Monique sat at her desk, opened her laptop, and took a marijuana cigar from the humidor beside her computer. "Take my shoes off," she said without looking up from the stock ticker which ran across her computer screen.

His rigidly spastic fingers shook as he struggled to work the laces. He fumbled with the shoes for a few minutes before finally slipping them off her sweaty, but perfectly pampered, feet. Now that he'd taken her shoes off, surely he'd be dismissed to eat and sleep.

"About fucking time," she said. "Now massage and kiss my feet."

Without thinking, the hungry limper muttered, "B-b-but..."

"But what?" she snapped. "You don't want to massage my feet after my workout? I see. You want to make me sad. You know that when I get sad I punish limpers."

He quickly took her right foot in his crippled hands and began to rub and kiss it as best as he could. It was immensely difficult for him to stretch his fingers enough to grasp and hold the foot, but he managed to force his fingers around the foot enough to cradle it as he rubbed and kissed it. The foot stunk sweat and his tight fingers ached from the strain, but he knew that punishment for disobedience would be far worse.

He knew a limper who accidentally splashed mop water on her shoe. She ordered his ankle to be broken and made him finish the floor with a scrub brush while the break was still fresh. Another limper had his tongue cut out for talking back.

Monique relaxed contentedly, enjoying the massage and cigar. It wasn't the best foot rub she'd ever had, but knowing how hard the poor slob was struggling to perform the simple task filled her with sadistic glee. A quarter inch of ash had formed on the end of her cigar. She casually held it just inside Tony's mouth, tapped the cigar with her forefinger, and let the ash drop onto his helpless tongue.

He screamed as the hot bitter ash burned him. Then, once he tasted the bitterness of the cigar's waste product, he gagged and coughed uncontrollably. The brace still made it impossible for him to close his mouth and swallow properly, forcing him to let the ash slide down his throat a bit at a time.

Monique took another satisfying drag of her smoke and closed her laptop. She'd made a profit of thirty million by the time the market closed. It wasn't much, but she told herself it was better than a loss. She'd do better tomorrow.

Taking another long drag of herb, she looked over at Tony. "You know what," she said. "I need to quit calling you Tony. Tony is the name of a person, and you're not a person. People can walk and talk clearly. You can't do anything so you're not a person. You're a thing, a possession, a slave. Let's see, what's a good name for a subhuman piece of trash like you?" She dropped some more ash into his mouth and thought for a moment.

"I know," she finally said. "I'll call you Ashpan. Yes, that's it. Your new name is Ashpan. That should be demeaning enough." She looked around the room and back at Ashpan. "You don't exactly go with the rest of the decor though. Here, let me give you a touch of color." With her fighting gloves still on, Monique delivered a flurry of sharp crisp punches to Ashpan's eyes and nose. Blood trickled from his nose and his eyes quickly began to swell shut. "There, that's a nice touch of red, and in an hour or two those eyes should be a pretty purple color. I just love interior decorating."

Monique was admiring her handiwork when she heard the limper's stomach growl loudly. The growl reminded her that the piece of shit at her feet had been on his way to eat when she found him. Her lips curled into an evil smile as she reached for the phone. She pressed one to call the kitchen.

Melony, the head chef, answered, "How can I help you Mistress Payne?"

"Do you have any of that fabulous lasagna left?"

"Yes Mistress, shall I send some up?"

"Yes, and a glass of wine." As soon as the order was placed, Monique took one more drag of her cigar, and put it out on Ashpan's face, just below his left eye. He screamed as she twisted the hot end into his upper cheek. The resulting burn looked quite painful, which broadened her smile.

The aroma of savory sauce and spicy sausage filled the office as Melony entered with Monique's meal. "Oh, you didn't have to bring it yourself, one of the wastes of flesh could have brought it."

Melony had earned her fourth Michelin star by the time she was thirty. She could have worked at any restaurant in the world, but when she saw the ad, on the dark web, for a sadistic chef, she had to apply. Monique paid her a generous six figures to cook gourmet fare for Monique and her staff. She was also responsible for making an array of delectable treats (cookies, brownies, crab puffs, etc) to leave around the house for the staff to nibble at and the residents to look at and smell.

"I didn't want one of the rejects to spill the wine," she said as she put the tray on the desk and removed the cloche.

"Good thinking," Monique said then dismissed her from her office. As she ate the pasta, the limper drooled and licked his lips between kisses. His ravenous hunger made each bite she took that much more delicious.

She was near the end of her lasagna when Charlotte raced into the office, her red pigtails bobbing up and down. She liked keeping her hair in pigtails; looking young and innocent while committing unspeakable acts of torture tickled her funny bone. "Come quick!" she said excitedly.

"What happened?" Monique asked.

"Just come, you'll see."

Monique ran behind Charlotte until they reached the TV room. A crowd of staff members were gathered around a drooler who was convulsing in the middle of floor. He was having an epileptic seizure.

"Thanks for coming to get me," she said. "I wouldn't have wanted to miss this."

As the drooler writhed and twisted in random contortions, as the cruel onlookers clapped and chanted, "Twitch twitch, twitch,...."

"Look," Charlotte said tapping Monique on the arm. "He keeps popping his tongue out. Twenty bucks says he bites it off."

Three minutes later, sure enough, the tongue flew a good ten feet and blood squirted from his mouth. "Damn it,," Monique said jokingly. "By the way Charlotte, I have a limper underneath my desk. When we're done here, tell him his work shift starts early and assign him to a particularly difficult task."

"Not a problem," Charlotte said. "Your horse stables need a thorough cleaning."

"Perfect," Monique said.

"What are we punishing him for?"

Monique shrugged. "No reason. He's been working without food or rest for quite a while. I just thought it would be fun to make things worse for him."

They laughed together and enjoyed the rest of the seizure they'd been watching.


Active Member
May 24, 2012
Thanks for taking the time to type up such a well written and awesome story! Your writing was so good its actually inspired me to finish one ive been typing up here and there for months, it wont be as good as yours, but im taking notes from your writing style and will hopefully improve in time!
Likes: iwuvtool420
Sep 10, 2018
jamie: I'm glad I inspired you. I look forward to reading your story.

OneAuthor: I love the term "delectably cruel." You rock! I might have to kipe the phrase for a future story.

FYI all, thanks to the boners I work with, I won't be around until the 12th. I hope to post chapter 03 by the 15th.
Likes: OneAuthor


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
I'm glad you enjoyed that term. And no worries about when the next chapter is posted. Perfection should never be rushed. At least that's what I tell myself when it takes months for me to write anything.;)
Likes: Madison1982