Chapter 1 - M Meets Z

M met Z entirely by chance. Her profile seemed direct, but simple. Very little embellishment and only a single picture. M had been casually looking around the site, his intent not necessarily to find anything or anyone, but merely exploration; to set upon a path of discovery to learn more from the "horses mouth" so to speak. He couldn't foresee how such a simple profile could lead him down a rabbit's hole that would completely and irrevocably change his life. Yet, there was something compelling about the simple statements in the journal that nudged him to make contact. Z wanted a subject to blackmail.

"What would be your approach, if you'd care to share? Thank you for your time. m" These words he wrote in his first message to Z he would at moments deeply regret and at others cherish deeper than any possession or relationship. They would become the root of his active deconstruction - the first step down the gradual process by which Z would remove every shred of his humanity and turn him into a piece of property, owned slave meat.

M, as he called himself before transformed, had been introduced to the BDSM lifestyle almost by accident nearly twenty years ago, stumbling upon a magazine left in the closet of a hotel room. The magazine was nothing extreme, just fairly vanilla images of women and men lightly bound, cheerful smiles on their faces eliminating all thoughts in the viewer's mind that they could be in any danger. But these images of rope and shackles against bare skin seared themselves into both his conscious and subconscious, and from that moment on, M could think of little more than the feeling deep in the center of his body that itched and burned whenever he was exposed to any kind of power exchange dynamic.

M's attraction to dominant women actually originated back in grade school, where his attraction to his older female teachers often created embarrassing moments when that female teacher would ask him to step to the chalkboard to write out a math problem or spell a word. The command of the teacher's voice caused his penis to stand immediately at attention, and his reluctance to stand, followed by the teacher's chastisement for his perceived lethargy only fueled a humiliation that caused his member to grow even more stiff.

Z knew what she wanted: a man that she could blackmail with gradual intensity until he had no choice but to submit to being owned by her. She then "break" the slave through psychosexual torture of a depraved and virtually criminal nature. Eventually, he would be completed reshaped mind, body and soul into a perfect piece of slave meat - property to be used with no limit as she desired. So many men had thrown themselves at her almost as immediately as she had joined the site. Yet few really understood the true nature of what it was she sought. She saw through those men almost immediately, toying with them for as long as she was amused, but never with the intent to claim any of those men.

M was different. He was careful, inquisitive, detailed, and patient. He didn't bristle when she asked if he "had balls" but rather accepted her statement and constructive criticism. Z immediately recognized that M, though lacking real life experience, had the core and raw material of what she wanted. She could obliterate him and re-form him out of the clay into a work of art, a horrifying Z masterpiece.

Z lured M with a simple blackmail trial run, to show him how pleasing it could be to serve her. And pleasing it was, the humiliation and pain of the self bondage and cbt assignments caused the insatiable ache in M's core to grow and envelope him. It didn't take long before he succumbed to Z's suggestion that they up the intensity of their "play." And Z delivered with a startling precision and pre-cognizance that frightened M more than anything in his life prior, and also aroused him to a height of animal lust that overrode his better judgement at every turn. He willingly handed over piece after piece of critical personal and private information to Z, eager to feel the mix of terror and arousal that Z's blackmail alone provided him. Z was pleased by the speed at which she compiled the mountain of verifiable blackmail material. Within a month she had more than she would ever need to compel him to hand himself over to her, and yet the enjoyment of feeding his self-destructive need was too enjoyable for her to immediately move to the next step.

For a year, Z demanded information and action, each command being coupled with a consequence even more extreme. She could destroy his entire life professionally and personally with anonymity and ease, and he could do very little to either reveal his blackmailer or walk away. During that year of blackmail, Z began researching sexual torture techniques, delving into more and more creative yet extreme and depraved methods. Never knowing her true intention behind the blackmail, M had no idea what was waiting at the end of the tunnel for him. He suspected Z would likely lose interest and dismiss him as she'd done the others. Eventually the thrill ride would come to an end.

But, unsuspecting to M, the day did come when Z decided to spring her trap.

"You will buy a one way plane ticket to the McCarran International Airport on the specified flight departing exactly one week from today. You will travel only with the clothes you wear, identification, and $300 in cash. When you arrive at the Phoenix airport, you will meet the driver at baggage claim carrying the placard "Z." The driver will drive you to a warehouse. You will enter through the North door, and proceed down the staircase to the basement. Further instructions will be in the envelope upon the chair."

The rather short email message was accompanied by a file containing the name of an airline carrier and flight number as well as a massive number of photographs, messages, and personal data. As M opened the file and looked at the material his pulse raced uncontrollably to the point that he began to feel faint. He had not anticipated this move, but the damning evidence in the email Z sent left him no choice. That afternoon, M purchased the ticket and began mentally preparing for what he could not possibly prepare for. Z would soon have her prize.

The flight to Las Vegas was long by the measurement of time, yet delivered M closer to his irreversible fate faster than he would have hoped. Already he was stepping off the plane, his feet seeming to carry him much too quickly to the baggage claim turnstile. M walked up to the driver holding the placard with "Z" inscribed upon it, and awkwardly gestured to himself. The driver simply turned and began walking briskly, M skipping along to stay in tow. The drive opened the door and brusquely announced, "get in." M complied, and the driver shut the door with definitive finality. The windows of the car as well as the glass divider between the back and front seats were tinted midnight in such a way that M could not see out of the car.

The car seemed to be speeding, and M wondered when they would inevitably be pulled over by a sheriff. But the car raced on for what seemed like hours. It turned right, then left, then right, then left, and soon M had lost all sense of direction completely. M began to doze when the car came to a halt. The door burst open and the driver again unceremoniously commanded, "get out." As quickly as M got out of the car, the driver slammed the door shut, shot into the driver's seat and sped away, a cloud of thick dust pluming in his wake.

M stood before a heavy, rusted metal door. The exterior of the warehouse exhibited no other doors, so M assumed the one he faced must be the "North door." He pulled open the door, which groaned in resistance to his effort. He peered down the set of stairs, a dim light emanating from the depths below. M knew he could probably make a dash for it, but how far would only the clothes on his back and $300 get him in a town he did not know? Z would most certainly come looking for him, and a woman of her sadistic nature might employ methods he might truly not enjoy. After all, she was clearly a dangerous woman of significant intellect and means. M, in his mind, was certain of her connections to the criminal and disreputable of Flagstaff.

M proceeded down the steps to a open basement space, a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminating the center of the room. Below the bulb sat a metal chair with an envelope on the seat. And in front of the chair a rough wooden box with a open lock hanging in the hasp. Trembling, his legs beginning to feel rubbery, he approached the envelope.

"Open the box and remove the leather hood, metal handcuffs, and collar. Disrobe and place all of your clothing in the box. Lock the box with the lock hanging on the hasp. Sit in the chair and lock first your ankles, close the collar around your neck, pull the hood over your head, and then lock your wrists behind the chair. Do all this quickly as I am watching via the closed circuit camera."

M looked up. He hadn't even noticed the blinking red light in the darkness in front of the chair that betrayed the position of the closed circuit camera. M knew not to hesitate, and the hardening bulge growing below his clothing confirmed his sexual addiction to the fear that caused his hands to tremble. This situation created within him a terror unmatched by any single event in his life up to this moment. Little did M know, the terror and intrinsically linked arousal he now felt would seem like a visit to Disneyland compared to what Z had in store for him.

M stripped ever last item of clothing from his body, freeing his pulsating and precum oozing organ from its restraints. That cock attached to M's body seemed to have a life of it's own searching into the darkness for the fantastic torture promised to it. It's welcoming ooze beckoning to the vile brutality that Z planned to graciously inflict upon it. It wanted to be hers, to be defiled and mutilated as she saw fit. With the deafening click of the lock, both M and the alien member attached to his body that throbbed and glistened knew there was no turning back now.

M took the hood, handcuffs and collar and sat on the icy cold chair. With two nauseating clicks, M locked his ankles to the chair, just above the crossbar. He gazed into the eyeless, mouthless leather mask, only two nostril holes breaking up the sea of black. Like the mask, M knew that by placing it upon his head he was to become a thing. He would no longer be a man any more than a can of ground meat with a dildo attached to it is a man. Z would pulverize his mind and soul and soon he would be an empty shell attached to Her cock. Staring at the mask, he only now began to realize the inextricable situation he had inserted himself into. And also at that moment, he realized how true his masochism was. He needed to be defiled, to be psychologically destroyed, and to become the horrifying living canvas of the evil Z. He admitted to himself in that moment that he secretly hoped for the realization of this day from the moment their relationship had begun.

With a defined certainty unlike any he had previously understood in his life, he savagely pulled the mask over his head, closing out the visible world. M pushed the ends of the seamless metal slave collar around his neck together until it drove home, the purchase of the teeth grinding the inside of the collar with a tiger's roar. The metal collar would not be removed without the assistance of heavy tools. M then groped for the final pair of cuffs and, weaving his hands between the metal bars of the back of the seat, locked his hands behind him.

M barely made out the light tapping of high heels as a figure approached M from the darkness from behind. M felt two hands rest upon his shoulders. Suddenly a voice was intimately close to his left ear.

"Now we will have fun, slave"

The right hand moved off his shoulder for a moment, then suddenly clasped over the nostril holes of the mask hold a damp rag to the openings. M's head began to spin and he lost consciousness.

Z smiled to herself as she watched her new cock continue to pulsate through M's unconsciousness, as if reaching out to her, begging for suffering. She looked forward to the many opportunities to oblige.

M awoke to total blackness. He was stretched spreadeagle on his back, secured to heavy wooden table. He could not see the pacing viper hovering above him with a devil's smile. The slave was now hers and the excruciating torture, the moans, the suffering would commence. Z took her own erect nipples between the thumbs and forefingers of each of her hands and relished in the grotesque thoughts of torture that swam through her head as she drank in the bound naked body of her new property. She slowly twisted her nipples and her lips parted slightly as an exhalation of pleasure poured out.

Next to M, on a wheeled medical cart sat lengths of thin black rubber tubing, several individually wrapped needles, cotton swabs, and a tin of Tiger Balm. Z leaned close in to M.

"You are no longer a human being, but rather a piece of property. Without a doubt your psyche will cling to your humanity as long as possible, but I will wring that from you effectively and completely. I will now torture you. I am not attempting to coerce any kind of information or response from you, I will simply cause you to endure suffering. This will begin to acclimatize you to the state you can expect to be in most of your waking hours. I will also dispense with gender specific pronouns when speaking with or about you. I will simply refer to 'it' when I speak of my new slave property, and it will learn to accept that though a penis is attached to its body, it no longer has a gender. It simply has a set of various apparatuses that I will employ to deliver sensations to the nervous system of my property. Let's begin."

Z lifted a length of the rubber tubing and pulled it taut. Letting it snap, the slave involuntarily jumped. Its throbbing pulse could be seen in the bulging veins of the neck and penis attached to the slave property. Z began carefully winding the tubing around the base of the scrotum, capturing the testicles within its loop. She increased the pressure with every loop of the tubing causing the testicles to bulge obscenely and separate from the slave property's body in a way quite pleasing to Z. The tubing held the testicles like a clasped hand in a black rubber glove, and the tightness of the scrotal stretching brought focus to the slave's attention to the its immediate predicament.

The cock worshipped Z, stretching up to her in salute, wetting itself with its desire. Z took a second shorter length of tubing and grabbed the her new cock, squeezing it hard, causing the glans to swell painfully. She took the second length and tightly wound the tubing around her cock just behind the glans, locking the bulge in an unescapable prison. The pre-cum from the cock attached to her property seemed to be streaming in a constant flow, the fear of the situation fueling the sexual addiction deeply implanted in her property's tiny brain.

Z's hand reached for the needles. She picked up the first needle and removed it from the packaging. Her own heart started to race with excitement and she set the point of the needle just behind the ridge of the glans of the penis attached to her property. Oh so slowly she pushed the needle into the penis through the glans. The groans of her property and her own seemed to mimic each other, a perfect dance of sadism and masochism creating a symphonic mix of terror and insatiable craving. The other side of the glans protruded, and with a pop the tip of the needle erupted from the other end of the glans.

Three more needles to go, thought Z admiring the thick sheen of sweat building on her properties body. She delighted in the unmistakable scent of fear wafting from its armpits, anus and crotch. So much enjoyment, and this was only the start of the torture she had in store for her new property.

A second, a third, and then a fourth. Each slender band of steel seemed to cut through the glans like a hot knife through butter. The muscles tensed and animalistic groans muffled from behind the black hood filled Z's unfinished basement. Under the cold bare bulb above her property, the slick sheen of sweat stood out prominently on nearly every inch of flesh. Its breathing was quick and shallow and its body shook uncontrollably. If her property had been allowed to see, it would have been chilled by the sadistic grin on Z's face.

"And now for something very special," Z announced. She unscrewed the cannister of Tiger Balm and took a few cotton swabs in her other hand. She carefully dipped the first cotton swab into the tin, liberally coating the cotton swab with the balm. She was filled with excitement as her hand drew the cotton swab coated with balm drew closer to right nipple of her slave meat. She steadied her hand and held it just over the right nipple, allowing the image of her hooded, sweat-soaked, trembling slave to burn into her memory. Then with a malevolent swiftness she pressed the swab to the right nipple of her property and slowly coated the nipple with the stinging, greasy substance. The groans from behind the hood grew with intensity until they started to become wails. She took the second swab, coated it with balm, and quickly applied the balm to the left nipple. Z's property began writhing and pulling at its bonds to no avail. The sickening moans became shrill and blood-curdling. Z drank in her slave's suffering, her desire dripping from between her legs.

Z had one final cotton swab to employ. She strolled back to the cock empaled with the four needles, and plunged the final cotton swab into the tin of Tiger Balm. As she brought the cotton swab slathered in the balm toward the eye of the cock attached to her property, she paused for a lengthier moment in time. The reaction of her slave to what she was about to do would be one she would want to remember for as long as she could. How delicious her property was right now: naked, head covered with a thick black hood, bound nearly motionless, sweating with fear and arousal, skewered through the glans, and nipples burning with the torturous balm. With her left hand, Z spread the eye to her cock wide, creating a beautiful pink opening almost the perfect accommodating diameter of the end of the cotton swab. With her right hand, she plunged the cotton swab coated with balm, deep into the urethra of the cock attached to her property.

The inhuman screams and writhing that were wrung from the slave characterized a vile suffering unlike any the property had ever thought it would be so fortunate to experience. Z, pleased beyond expectation, reached between her legs and almost instantly erupted in orgasm. Her screams of delight merging with her property's screams of torment.

Four months later...

Z's heels clicked on the steps as she descended them to her basement. In the middle of the room stood her slave property. She had made removed all hair from the body of her slave and kept it completely smooth from the top of its head to its toes. Z enjoyed the appearance of her slave now: a black leather sleeve bound its arms behind its back. Its ankles were encased with iron shackles, pulled wide and held spread by thick chains that connected from the shackles to bolts cemented to the floor. The slave collar had been rotated such that the loop was at the back of the slave's neck, another chain loosely connected from the thick ring in the collar to a pulley attached to the ceiling. Over it's head Z had placed a skin-tight latex mask without eye holes. In her slave's mouth was wedged a very large black ball gag, secured by a tight strap around the back of its head. But the truly wonderful piece was the heavy gauge Prince Albert piercing that Z had inserted into her cock. The slave, in early correspondence with Z, had made the mistake of conveying a story to her to which she took a particular fancy. The story had been the inspiration for her desire to pierce her property in such a way. The piercing was both exquisite and functional, as the next exercise would prove.

From the Prince Albert loop that pierced her slave's cock was attached a short length of chain. Z walked over to her property and gave the chain an abrupt tug. Pulling the chain up and between the ass cheeks of her property, she pulled until her cock was stretched painfully taut, bifurcating the testicles to each side of the shaft. She locked the end of the chain to the loop at the bottom of the leather sleeve binding the slave's arms. This caused a form of chastity restraint that delighted Z.

Z put her mouth right next to her slave's ear.

"I've been torturing my slave property for four months. It has been a delightful time for me, and I've enjoyed watching my slave melt into an inhuman piece of meat. Now I have something VERY special in store for it. Again, I will torture it in an excruciating way. But unlike previous episodes, I will at some point give it the option to make a choice. Its choice will be to continue to endure the torture, or agree to sign a series of documents that it will not be able to see. The property will likely be ready to blindly sign my documents immediately, so I will not be offering my slave meat the choice until I have sufficiently enjoyed its suffering. Let's begin."

Z walked over to the wall where the end of the rope attached to the pulley was wrapped around a cleat. She unwrapped the end and slowly began to pull on the rope. The pulley lifted the chain attached to the collar toward the ceiling. The metal collar began to pull tighter and tighter against the slave's neck, and it raised up on its toes to attempt to relieve the strain. Z continued to pull on the rope, lifting the pulley toward the ceiling until the slave was straining, its body pulled tight like a violin string. Keeping the rope to the pulley held in her left hand, she picked up a thick wooden paddle in her right hand.

Her heels landed upon the icy cement floor of her basement with a sickening click as she approached her property, swinging the paddle through the air in a lazy pendulum arch next to her side.

Standing so close to her property that it could feel her excited breath on its face, Z lifted the paddle up to the secured shaft and bifurcated testicles of her property. She slowly began to caress its balls and strained cock with her paddle, warming the spot that would suffer so dearly.

With a lightening precision, Z swung the paddle back and brought it forward, connecting the hard wood with the bound genitals. The devastating scream that emitted from the slave was horrific and unholy. Z let the pulley release and the slave's body nearly crumpled to the floor, it's legs already turning to jelly. She smiled as she watched her slave struggle to regain its composure and get its legs under itself. When it began to refocus, she redoubled the pulley on the rope, stretching her slave property taut again. And again, she caressed the bound genitals with the paddle, slightly longer than the first time, enjoying the near panic of her slave's anticipation. After what seemed an eternity, she quickly drew the paddle back and drove it home into her property's soft meat with frightening intensity. The slave shook and seemed to soundlessly scream for several seconds, its wind knocked out of it. Then the blood-curdling howl of an abused dog filled the room, music to Z's ears.

Five more times, Z tenderized her meat. She was astonished that the slave remained conscious through the torture. It was time to offer the choice. Her slave immediately opted to sign the documents. Releasing its arms from the leather binder, it fumbled with the pen as she directed it to the blanks to sign and didn't hesitate for even a moment.

Z took all the signed documents and placed them in a manilla envelope. Her slave had effectively signed a power of attorney which assigned control of all of its assets to her. It had also signed several documents that relinquished Z of any liability for any outcome related to its interactions with her. Another document was a binding slave contract, like those used in the Other World Kingdom, which authorized Z to do whatever she saw fit with her slave property, with no limit.

"In case there was any doubt in its mind, slave is now my property in every single sense. It no longer has any rights, nor will it ever again enjoy the status of being human. If I tire of it, I will likely sell it to another Mistress or find another, perhaps less pleasant means of disposing of it. The slave has signed away all right to limit of any kind, and I will exercise this relinquishing of this particular right in a way that will seem truly demonic to the slave. This is because I have a distinct sadistic need that the slave will now fill. I imagine my sadism is unquenchable, and will overtake the slave's masochism at some point. Then true suffering will commence for the slave meat, and I suspect, an enjoyment unlike any other will fill me. How far the slave property has come, and oh how far I will push my slave property."

The spark of the ignition to the Bunsen burner was barely audible to the slave through the tight latex hood. It could not see Z as she held the brand of the letter "M" over the burner, the metal heating to a bright red glow.

Z gingerly carried the angry brand over to the slave and held the hot metal very close to it's glistening body. With her left hand, she lovingly rubbed the flesh just above the bound pubis. Then the moment arrived, she brought the brand upon the spot and the sound of a sizzle and the smell of burning flesh evidenced the marking of that spot just above its genitals with her mark. The slave passed out and hung for a brief moment by the collar about its neck. Z quickly released the pulley and her property collapsed to the floor in a wet heap. She rather enjoyed making it pass out.