The alarm went off at four in the morning. It was only a single quiet beep, barely audible over the steady hum of the heater, but years of experience made her eyes snap open immediately.
Her limbs were heavy as lead as she drew herself up from her makeshift bed, which was nothing more than a pile of dirty rags placed directly under one of the bedroom’s heating vents. He’d kept her up late again last night. One a.m.? Two? It didn’t matter. She had work to do, and exhaustion had never been an acceptable excuse. She ignored the screams of her muscles and forced herself up onto all fours.
Sweat dripped off her limbs as she padded towards the playroom, and her hair hung down in wet clumps. Their home was never less than ninety degrees, and she could tell that it was well over one hundred this morning. She would need to be very careful about staying hydrated. The last time she’d passed out from the heat had been two months ago, and he’d punished her for it by cranking the temperature up even higher and making her sleep under heavy woolen blankets for a week. She’d been more than half dead by the time he’d relented. The tropical warmth wasn’t actually necessary. She’d seen him as perfectly at ease in subzero weather as he was in the mansion’s sweltering heat. She wasn’t certain if he even could feel hot and cold. The temperature, like so much of her life, had no purpose but to make her miserable.
Her throat ached, and she could acutely feel the lumps of metal in there every time she swallowed. Piercing her was his latest hobby, and every day he added something new. It had begun almost normally: rings in her ears, eyebrows, nose, lips. Then he’d moved on to more erogenous zones, putting rings in her nipples and clitoris. Following that he’d embarked on a larger project, lining the sides of her asshole and cunt with studs of varying shapes and sizes, designed to make her well used holes feel new again. For the last week, he’d been putting similar studs in her throat.
Before that had been tattoos. ‘Worthless’, ‘puta’, ‘slut’, ‘肉便器’… nearly two dozen insults in nearly as many languages, inked all over her face. He’d made her memorize all of them, and would quiz her on random tattoos, checking that she remembered not just every degrading word that he’d marked her with, but their color, their size, the lettering style, every last detail. Whenever she forgot one or made a mistake, it would be painfully burned off of her skin and then reapplied, to encourage her not to forget it in the future. All but one of them had been redone multiple times by now. The sole exception, the one she never ever forgot, was the thick black tattoo scrawled across her forehead: MEAT. That’s all she was, he often liked to remind her. Just meat, to be chewed up and swallowed someday.
The playroom was a mess. Little wonder, given all that he’d done to her last night. The mats were spattered with drops of blood and cum, and there was a dark stain where she’d pissed herself in fear when she realized that she’d forgotten to address him with the proper respect. The baseball bat he’d shoved up her ass for her mistake was lying in one corner, more than a foot of it dirty from her guts. The ropes she’d been suspended from for hours still dangled from the ceiling, and lying beneath were all the various toys he’d tortured her with, each one tossed carelessly to the floor when he’d decided to try a different one.
She crawled to the cupboard to retrieve the cleaning supplies and get to work. For the next two hours, she worked diligently to restore the room to its former pristine state. Every instrument of torture was carefully washed and disinfected before being returned to its proper place on the walls. The ropes were untied, their kinks worked out, and then coiled up properly. The mats were scrubbed until no trace of bodily fluids remained. It wasn’t easy work, especially as tired as she was, but she pushed herself to get it done. She had a schedule to keep. When she was done, her fingers cracked and back aching, she turned on the computer and reviewed the camera footage from her session. There were six cameras placed in the room to capture the action from varying angles, and she spent another two hours reviewing, splicing, and editing the footage to create a thirty minute video. The bat was in there, of course, and him embedding the newest piercing in her throat, and the slow sloppy throatfuck she’d given him afterward as thanks, and all the other highlights of the night. Before every nightly session, he liked to watch the movie of the previous one while she sucked on him. If she’d done a really good job making her rape and torture look sexy for him, he was sometimes generous enough to cum in her mouth, which was one fewer orgasm she’d have to give him during the actual session.
Once the playroom was ready for next time, she crawled to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Everything in there smelled as delicious as always. He kept it well stocked with the finest and freshest ingredients money could buy. Her mouth watered, but none of it was for her. Meat didn’t deserve real food, after all. Her next meal was waiting inside his balls, just like all her previous ones, and she would get it soon enough if she was good. She selected bacon, eggs, and french toast for him this time, making his breakfast with practiced efficiency. While she worked, her left hand occasionally strayed to her pussy, stroking her pierced clit and sliding in and out of herself before licking her fingers clean. The habit was so ingrained that she barely even noticed herself doing it anymore. He liked her wet when he took her, and it was her responsibility to keep herself that way. Despite her tired limbs and sore body, her cunt was already soaked; it had been months since the last time he’d let her cum, and he often spent hours at a time bringing her to the edge of relief only to deny her each time, all the while mocking her as a slut for experiencing pleasure at her situation. She’d abandoned her pride long ago, and would shamelessly beg for the privilege of being allowed an orgasm.
A brief whimper escaped her lips as she rocked herself on her fingers, and for an instant she considered not stopping, then dismissed the thought with a shudder. He would know. He always knew. And there were few things he enjoyed more than punishing her for even the smallest lapse in obedience. When he’d first broken her, grinding her rebellious spirit into the dirt until she’d accepted that she was nothing but a toy, she’d naively assumed that being obedient would mean gentler treatment, that if she smiled and spread her legs for him like he demanded, he wouldn’t need to hurt her anymore. But need had nothing to do with it. He wanted to hurt her, and would eagerly seize any opportunity.
Breakfast was ready at twenty after eight, and she carefully balanced the plate on her back before crawling back to the bedroom. She moved with more care than any brain surgeon; the smallest slip would send his breakfast tumbling, and she had no time to clean up and prepare another. The plate was painfully hot and her back was as sweaty as ever, and in the eight minutes it took to make it down the hall she nearly dropped it four times. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she finally made it to the bedroom and was able to set the plate down on his desk, then began tending to her final task of the morning.
His “bed” was a thick slab of granite that he was sprawled on, softly snoring. The stone was warm to the touch as she joined him on it to kneel by his legs. Even asleep, his obsidian-like body rippled and glowed, as though some internal flame was threatening to break free. The heat was coming off of him in waves, and it was hard to even breathe when she was this close to him, the overheated air choking her lungs. He was lying on his side, and she had to nudge one of his legs slightly to the side to get access to his cock, suppressing a scream as her hand made contact. As always, his flesh was hotter than any fire, hot enough to burn away her nerve endings in moments. But she was given no such mercy.
That was thanks to what he mockingly called his protection. It kept his heat, any heat, from hurting her, but it did nothing at all to stop her from feeling it. He would often burn her just for fun during their nightly sessions, letting her twist and wail for long minutes before letting go, leaving behind only unmarked skin. For all the instruments of torture he experimented with nightly, none could match the raw agony of his cock cooking her insides whenever he raped her.
His cock was as soft as it ever got as she fearfully closed her lips around it. It was like eating hot coals, and she didn’t even try to suppress the scream this time as it seared her mouth. His thick, stony cock muffled her cries as she began dragging her tongue over his shaft, the act no less painful than licking hot magma. He began to stiffen almost immediately, and she gagged slightly as she took him in deeper, letting his head scorch her throat. The metal studs on her tongue were growing red hot by now, each one adding its own burst of pain to her experience. Her swollen tongue lapped at him quickly, desperate to finish the job and earn herself some relief. Her head was already starting to pound from the lack of oxygen, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d passed out on his prick.
She shrieked with new pain as he rested a hand on the back of her head, and bucked his hips to force more of himself down her throat. Rationally she knew that the pain was empty, that he wasn’t doing any real damage, other than what came from having to deepthroat a massive, rock hard cock. But her body didn’t care about reason. It told her that she was swallowing solid fire, that it was going to burn her up from the inside out. So like always, she howled in terror and pain, part of her convinced that he was killing her. She was still screaming when he began to cum a few minutes later, boiling hot liquid jetting out of his cock. The liquid fire traveled down her throat and into her stomach, where it remained a burning agony. Experience told her it would take a while before it cooled significantly, sometimes hours. In the meantime, his dick remained in her mouth, and she started sobbing quietly as she realized that he wanted her to go another round. The tears sizzled into smoke as they reached his shaft.
In the end, she had to suck two more scalding loads out of him before he released her head. Despite her every instinct telling her to get as far away as possible, she stayed in place until she’d licked every drop of cum off of him. Only then did she allow herself to raise her head and back away, careful not to look him in the eye. She couldn’t go forgetting her place.
“Good morning, meat,” said the efreet lazily, his voice a deep rumble. He yawned and stretched before leaning forward to grab the plate of food from the desk. “Ready to begin another full day of fun and games?” he asked as he began working on his breakfast.
She wasn’t. She was drenched in sweat, dizzy with thirst and hunger, everything hurt, and she was so exhausted that she wanted to cry. But there was only one answer he would accept. “Yes, Master,” answered Samantha.
If you want to read more of this story, or other stories in the Outfoxed universe, you can read them [here](https://johndrakeauthor.com/outfoxed/).
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/h9aufv/lone_fox_2_prologue_rape_fantasy_plot_heavy
Extremely hot!
Absolutely stunning!!!!