There is no more lively sensation than that of pain; its impressions are certain and dependable, they never deceive as may those of the pleasure women perpetually feign and almost never experience….Marquis De Sade.
People seem very curious of me and what might go on in my house. I am quiet and keep to myself. When I receive a package or someone trying to sell something they always look around me to catch a peek inside. Unless I am entertaining or going out I dress quite normal in black cigarette pants and a black tank of some sort. Yet the ‘Normals” want to know. Sometimes I invite a person in and this is what they will see and feel. My house if 3 stories. Upstairs is my bedroom plush with antiques, candles, velvet and lace for curtains and bedspread. Few are lucky enough to enter my sanctuary. The rest is a room for all my clothes and boots. I dress in there with the help of Anthony my slave. You will not see him, so don’t bother to look. The rest is guest rooms and 2 bath rooms. Main floor is formal living room, dining room and kitchen. Nothing really remarkable looking, again beautiful antiques and candles, old books and such. My home is where I am most at ease. Follow me down the stairs. Can you feel the chill, dampness and darkness. It is a basement after all darling. There is a door with a lock, that is where most of the cold is coming from as it is cold storage. I am standing behind you now, you can feel my breath on your neck as I put my hand to your mouth and a needle in your neck. I unlock the door and drag you into the room. Anthony is waiting to help me get you on the table. I slide your feet in the stirrups and put leather restraints around your wrists. Anthony cuts off your clothes, carefully not to nick. What is the point of sweet pain if you are not aware to feel it? Anthony runs off, he knows the penalty for watching. You awake looking at me helpless and confused. The smell of fear is like the finest of perfume to me. “Do you not remember me?” You say yes under your voice. I ask if you are scared. I know you are, but I need to hear the words. I take a scalpel blade in my hand and run it down your chest to your cock. You do not deserve to have a cock I say. You do not understand when woman says “no”. I take the scalpel and run it down his cock splitting it up with blood slowly starting to seep out from a cut you don’t remember getting. I lick my lips, but well you are not worthy of my mouth. I yell for Anthony. I lied, some do get to see Anthony, but he is the last person they will ever see. Pleasant dreams.
0 Responses to “Ivy’s Den of Depravity”