Payne Mansion Ch. 04 (Happy Thanksgiving)

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. In real life, keep it safe, sane, and consensual.


Her brown leather knee high gladiator sandals showcased Monique's long supple legs. Coupled with her mid-thigh length gold toga, the sandals completed the picture of a matriarch of a noble house of Rome. In order to kill time until the day's festivities began, the blond sadist was using her favorite bull whip to decorate the back of her whipping boy.

With his eyes and mouth sewn shut and his ears filled with candle wax, he was completely deaf, dumb, and blind. He couldn't perceive anything but the searing pain of the whip every time it landed across his defenseless back. He was blind to the expression of glee that crept across his torturer's face every time she saw him convulse with agony. His entire world was made up of pain, which was exactly what Monique wanted. No pleasure, no joy, no hope, no love, no mercy, just pain.

A perfect blow had landed across his kidneys when she heard a knock on her door. "Enter," she said.

A one eyed limper, who'd obviously been tortured in the extreme, crawled into the office without looking up. "The feast is ready Mistressth."

She sauntered toward the messenger looking confused. "I remember telling you to enter, but I don't remember telling you to speak." Fear filled the face of the pathetic limper as she crept closer. She finally stopped directly in front of him, resting her right foot on top of his left hand and pressed down sending waves of pain through his fingers. "When did I tell you to speak?"

He knew enough not to try to pull his hand away, but his body bobbed up and down anxiously. "You didn't Mistressth, I'm sthorry Mistressth. I'm sthorry, I-I-I'm sthorry."

Without saying a word, she pointed to her foot with her perfectly manicured finger. He shook as he lowered his head and kissed her foot. She twisted her foot back and forth to increase the level of the pain as he continued to kiss it. He knew not to stop kissing her foot until he was commanded to stop. She continued to torture his hand for three long minutes, only stopping because she was eager to get to the Thanksgiving feast.

Monique stepped off his hand and dropped her whip on the floor. "Clean the blood off the whip with your tongue, treat it with the Pecard Leather Dressing, hang it back up, and report back to the feast." Without waiting for a reply, Monique left the room and made her way to the main living room.

The sofas had been arranged in a circle. The staff girls were all dressed in white togas and ankle high gladiator sandals. Most of the girls were laying on the sofas, or floor, drinking wine and snacking on caviar. The few girls who had agreed to work during the feast, were standing on the edge of the circle holding whips to inspire obedience from the limpers who would be serving food and keeping wine glasses full.

Strewn around the room lay several droolers with a clear view of all the delicious food which would be brought out all day long and well into the night. Monique entered the room, and the girls moved to stand up. "Please relax, this is a celebration, enjoy," she said in a good natured tone. The girls relaxed and continued to nibble and sip as the head mistress reclined on a red satin couch with oak trim.

An observant limper hurried to her on his knees and poured her her first glass of wine. Another wasted no time in presenting her with a tray of canapes. Like the rest of the limpers, their lips had been sewn shut to keep them from snacking as they served the food. The limper who had been sent to retrieve Monique from her office was allowed to keep his mouth open so he could clean diners' feet throughout the day.

To increase the diners' pleasure, the residents had been given nothing but water for three days before the feast. Eating delicious food in front of starving wretches, hearing their stomachs growl and seeing the pained expression of hunger in their sad little eyes, made the food taste better.

Once they had devoured the starters, Monique clapped her hands once and a parade of limpers entered with carts piled high with turkeys and side dishes of every kind. The limpers shook as they struggled to serve the food without dropping so much as a crumb.

Once the first helpings had been served, Monique made one of the more ambulatory limpers to kneel beside her and feed her. The task forced the slave to watch her enjoy each delectable bite. To add to his pain, she made a point of commenting on each bite. "Oh, that's so good. I didn't know turkey could be this juicy. And these sweet potatoes are some of the best I've ever had." Each comment twisted the proverbial knife a bit deeper into his heart. With tears streaming down his face he continued to feed his cruel mistress.

Every so often a whip would land across the back of a limper who had dropped a piece of food. Once whipped, the limper knew to pick up the offending piece, crawl to the kitchen to throw it away and come right back to resume his duties.

Between servings, the girls would dance on a nearby drooler or whip one to work off some calories until the next wave of fresh food was served.

Thanksgiving Day had been immensely enjoyable for Monique and her staff. Once the last of the pies had been eaten, the ladies retired to their rooms for a comfortable night's sleep, leaving the limpers to clean the house before the next morning.


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
It's nice to know the mistresses had a happy Thanksgiving. And I shall give thanks to you, Madison, for sharing another fantastic chapter of this story.