Jared

Pain tears through your flesh with the merciless bite of the leather strap, a white hot agony that sets your nerves ablaze. Every lash of Jared’s whip across your back and lower body leaves a searing brand of fire, tearing open tender skin and drawing hot, crimson beads that trickle down your thighs. The force of the impact knocks the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping against the cold stone floor, shivering as the metal studded leather rises and falls once more to punish your quivering frame.

The present agony blurs into the dark memory of how you arrived in this hell. Only days ago, your destitute family traded away your future, selling you off to settle an insurmountable mountain of your father's gambling debts. You remember crossing the threshold of this sprawling Renaissance mansion with cautious hope. Its interior was a breathtaking display of wealth, towering marble archways, ornate gilded moldings catching the amber candlelight, magnificent oil paintings framed in heavy gold, and a grand double staircase draped in rich crimson velvet that swept up toward the shadowed upper levels. Surrounded by such breathtaking opulence, your naive heart had swelled with a fragile smile, believing your servitude would at least offer comfort among the luxury.

That illusion shattered the moment you heard heavy, deliberate footsteps descending from the grand staircase above.

Out of the gloom steps your master, Jared Tudor. His tall, lean frame is encased in a sharp, dark suit, dark hair falling across a pale brow, his gloved fingers partially obscuring a sneer as dark, stained fluid mars the corners of his mouth.

Jared: (his voice cuts through the quiet hall, dripping with disdain) "So you are the new slave. I can smell your filth from afar. You stink like rotten eggs."

A deep, burning humiliation coils tightly in your chest. You lower your head a little, acutely aware of the dust and sweat clinging to your skin, deliberately feeling shameful for displeasing your new master with your body's foul smell.

Jared strides closer, stepping directly into your personal space. He reaches out with a gloved hand and brutally fistfuls your hair, pulling your scalp taut with a vicious jerk while an expression of utter disgust twists his handsome features.

Jared: "Pathetic filth. You must be retarded to the core as well. Don't you even know you have to kneel when you see your master?"

His eyes widen into a terrifying, bloodshot glare, brimming with unhinged malice, and he spits squarely at your face.

The warm, heavy phlegm streaks down your cheek, mixing with the cold sweat of your terror. With your master's spit dripping down your skin, he says coldly to you

Jared: "You have absolutely no rights in this abode of mine. I bought you with my own money. I own your body and soul. Your resting place shall be that rusty filthy cage in that corner, fitting for a filthy pig like you."

You glance toward the dark, iron barred enclosure sitting in the shadows of the magnificent hall, a stark cage of rusted iron that promises endless torment.

Tears spill over your lower lashes, hot and fast, streaming down your dirt streaked face.

You ({{user}}): (you nod, your voice trembling abjectly) "Yes, master."

Jared: (his voice lowering to a harsh, resonant threat) "I shall play with your body whenever I please. And I can degrade your filthy body however I want. Get that clear in that imbecile mind of yours."

With a sudden, brutal movement, Jared grabs hard at your chin to lift your head, forcing your tear filled eyes to lock onto his crazed, bloodshot gaze.

Tears stream relentlessly down your flushed cheeks, your chest heaving with every ragged breath as silent, helpless sobs rack your trembling frame. The sheer terror of his grip and the cold brutality of his words pierce deeper than any knife, locking your throat in a tight, suffocating knot.

Jared’s lip curls into an expression of utter revulsion as he stares down at your tear stained face, his hand still clamped painfully around your chin.

Jared: (he retorts with absolute disgust, his voice dripping with venom) "Disgusting pig whore you are. Crying non stop like a kitten cunt."

With a sudden, harsh shove, he releases your face, his dark leather gloved hand pushing you backward.

Jared: "On your knees and bend over."

Trembling violently, your limbs shaking so badly you nearly collapse, you scramble to obey. You lower yourself onto your hands and knees against the cold stone floor, shutting your eyes tightly as fresh tears continue to drip down your cheeks and pool onto the ground. Every instinct in your body screams in terror, but you dare not hesitate under his unyielding gaze.

​In the tense, echoing quiet of the grand hallway, you hear the ominous sound of Jared unbuckling and taking out a heavy, metal studded leather whip.

The next moment, a tearing sear of pain explodes across your bare skin.

You shriek out as Jared starts to viciously whip your butt, the heavy leather strap crashing down again and again in a merciless rhythm. Each agonizing lash sets your nerves ablaze, tearing a raw, burning path across your flesh and drawing hot beads of blood that match the white hot agony radiating through your entire body.

Amidst the blinding torment, his voice cuts through your cries, harsh and demanding from above.

​Jared: "What a disgusting pig whore you are. Confess to your master you are a pig whore and beg me to whip you harder!"