My Body for Your Perversion [A Touchy Subject]

by **Matthew** on February 18th, 2015, 1:07 am

Mature ContentThis thread contains sexual perversion, torture, and violence, with allusions to child abuse. I feel it is written tastefully, but I also felt a warning was still needed.

85th of Winter, 514 AV.

The Harlot was somehow able to observe it all from a distance, separate from what was occurring and what his mind was thinking. Even through the pain, he could use it. He could study it.

His wrists and ankles were chafed. The rough hemp rope scratched and tugged at his flesh, only increasing the harshness of the rope burns when he struggled. He did his best not to struggle, though sometimes his body acted against his own will. Sometimes he was genuinely surprised to watch his body arch and spasm, somehow trying to escape the pain even though he knew he was firmly secured. Both his arms and his legs were spread wide, each individual limb bound to a wooden post. He was unable to see, a black blindfold stripping away his sight and partially dampening his hearing. Sometimes he was gagged, sometimes he was not. It all depended on if she wanted to hear his screams. When he had first cried out in pain, it had been yet another thing that would come with a slight sense of mild surprise. It had been awhile since he had been like this. He wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was what torture was designed to do. What better way to learn about it than to be subjected to it?

Faintly, he realized the gag was being yanked from his lips. The cloth tasted faintly of wine. Was she trying to get him drunk? He could smell the polish on her nails and instantly remembered the sharp shade of red that had stood out against the otherwise bland outfit she was wearing. If he could smell it, the polish must be relatively fresh. How long did nail polish take to completely dry to the point that the scent of it had vanished? It was something to research later. For now his attention was harshly demanded, her long and slightly wrinkled fingers wrapping around his throat and utilizing a surprising amount of strength to pull him up. He couldn't go far, bound down as he was. Her hot tongue wetly dragged up the side of his cheek and over his ear, relishing the taste of salty tears that lingered. Had he shed tears? Had it hurt that much? It was so surreal, applying his usual methods of separation to a scenario such as this. It really showed how his body would react on its own, separate of every thought that passed through his analytical mind.

"Does it hurt, my darling baby boy?" Her voice hissed in his ear, through the veil of saliva her hungry lick had left, the arousal causing her voice to tremble with ecstasy. He nodded rapidly, understanding exactly what was required. "Yes. Yes, it hurts so much. Please stop. Please. Please stop hurting me." He begged, the words coming out in halted gasps between shivering sobs. It was partially an attempt at acting, partially a legit reaction from his abused body, or at least he assumed so. He felt her body shiver atop him, a new wave of pleasure pulsing through her. As this was only the second session, he had yet to fully understand exactly which aspect she craved. Was it the humiliation or the pain that aroused her when she brought it upon him? Perhaps it was both?

The thought process was violently interrupted, skillful lashes with a leather belt painting perfect red welts on either side of his erection, marking the inside of his slimly-muscled thighs with a makeshift brand. His hips lurched out of the bed and a strangled cry gasped from his lips, the edge of the belt just barely catching his privates. Two different sensations of pain shot through him, pulsing in jagged streaks through his veins. One was a sharp pain, a normal pain. The other one was a deep pain, a biting pain, something that stabbed deeper than the normal pain. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks and more pleas spilled from his tongue, only heightening her near-orgasmic bliss. "Yes. Sob, darling. Cry for me, you pathetic whore of a worm!" Her screamed demands were mixed with sensual moans, his client somehow managing to expertly place her blows even amidst her bliss.

His body lurched again and again, the ropes burning at his wrists as he begged for mercy. The Harlot had been beaten for several bells now. Red lashes decorated his body in precise patterns, the insides of his thighs and the sides of his neck being the only place left that hadn't been whipped and beaten until he was almost bloody. A firm wooden paddle had long ago been discarded, broken violently over his rear, the client exploring the lengths of what her new toy could handle.

She was delighted to find the sobbing, struggling, begging escort could handle exactly what she wanted to dish out. He was quickly becoming her favorite.

Somewhere else, somewhere within his own mind, Matthew watched the ongoing process with interest. His mental willpower wasn't strong enough yet. He had lost control of his body after so much abuse. He could only continue acting because the acting was partially what his traitorous lips wanted to say. He tilted his head, blue eyes glinting calmly as he stared intensely at himself from the inside out.

As long as there was no permanent damage, this would be time well spent. For 40 gold Mizas an hour, she was certainly getting a fair deal as well. The Harlot was so very unaware of how much damage could be done to things other than his physical body. This damage, this damage was merely the start.

by **Matthew** on February 18th, 2015, 3:52 am

87th of Winter, 514 AV.

All that he requested of his clients was they make no lasting marks on his body. Sometimes he worried if they would continue to respect those wishes. Part of their arousal was sometimes based on their violation of him. His body was weaker due to the famine, their appetites stronger because of the very same. He was aware that he walked a very fine line. His mind briefly danced to other things, wondering if the new friends he had made at the docks had heard any word of Kaie.

His thought process was sharply interrupted by the sensation of a warm liquid drizzling onto his back and cascading off the sides of his slightly malnourished body in thin streams. A delighted giggle echoed from behind him, the sound oddly high-pitched for such an old man. Then logical thought process was interrupted again, a thin rope looping around his neck and then roughly pulling tight.

The Harlot was on his knees and chest, ankles bound. Each wrist was roped off to a separate bedpost, leaving him kneeling with his armed stretched forward and to either side. It was as if he was bowing to some god. Was Tanroa watching this? Did she feel anything at the sight of one of her servants, graced with one of the greatest things a goddess could gift, laid out and used as a personal plaything?

The rope tightened around his throat and he gasped for air, spittle flying from his lips and lungs desperately trying to take a deep breath. Instead, he was left to helplessly gulp several short and incomplete bursts of air, the man who straddled his back toying with him sadistically. Sometimes he loosened the rope, letting Matthew get just enough air before he tightened it again, once more plunging him into an instinctive desperation to breathe. He wanted to reach up his hands, wanting to desperately claw at the thing that was constricting his throat, but his bindings would not allow him. He felt truly helpless. Truly alone. He noted down the sensation and what had caused it, feeling it was the key to a basic yet effective use of torture. It was somehow easy to think, though the thoughts came from much deeper inside than his normal thoughts did. It helped that the client had blindfolded him. The darkness was welcoming and comforting. If the man held the choking rope this tight for much longer, Matthew would truly tumble into utter blackness.

His skill with Hypnotism was a last resort, something to protect himself if things went wrong. But could he actually summon the focus required to successfully weave his djed when trussed up like a pig?

"You are such a good little toy, Melin. Such a good one." Melin? The man must be imagining he was someone else. The man pressed something into his hand, something warm and fuzzy. It reminded Matthew of something from his distant past, but what? He barely had time to consider such a question before blow upon blow suddenly rained down upon his back, a thick leather belt painting a picture of swollen red welts across his back. His mouth instantly stretched wide and screamed with pain, not bothering to hold back the agony that the relentless blows caused him. That was what the client paid for, was it not? "But sometimes so BAD!" The beatings continued. A belt was a common tool. His throat was sore from the screaming. "So very BAD!" The client continued to bellow down at him, over and over again, the pain and the noises blurring together until ironically, the Treaver lost track of Time.

It would only be after the man had reached the peak of his pleasure and rolled off of Matthew to quickly fall into a blissful sleep that the Harlot would remove his blindfold. Panting, rolling onto his back, he held the object that had been pressed into his hand above him and stared at it.

It was a teddy bear.

A hot sensation shuddered through his skull, the Harlot finding the sensation discerning and almost immediately discarding it. Bile rose in his throat, but Matthew did not understand why. He swallowed it, foggy thought process checking for internal damage to his body before he wrote the oddity off as a random variable in his bodily functions. Pulling the bear down to his chest, he cuddled it as best as he could. It simply seemed appropriate, though yet again, Matthew did not understand why.

by **Matthew** on March 3rd, 2015, 1:33 am

The man had recently stopped desiring penetration and had instead focused on different methods of humiliation and abuse. Matthew was still left bound and always eventually forced to hold the teddy bear, but the more perverse actions had changed. He seemed obsessed with the idea of emptying his bowels on Matthew, as well as whipping him until the flesh nearly bled. He had actually crossed a line once and opened a wound, leaving a mark down the Harlot's back that would likely leave a scare. He had profusely apologized and begged forgiveness, having grown attached to Matthew. The Harlot had agreed to continue their regular sessions, under the assumption no more lasting damage would be done. He started bringing the long black dagger with him though, hiding it within the room for protection.

He was curious. Who was Melin? Why was this person seemingly the focus of his client's fantasies? Several sessions passed and Matthew slowly grew better at retreating within himself, able to meditate for longer and longer periods of time. To most, it was barely any improvement at all. He could meditate for three seconds, then eventually five, then eventually ten before the pain broke him. It was still enough time to think, though. Why did the man so suddenly shift from sexual perversion to abusive perversion? Why did such a hot sensation randomly boil within the Harlot's skull?

One night, at the peak of his pleasure, the client helped solve part of the mystery. "You are such a BAD son, Melin!" The idea was baffling. Was the man actually fantasizing about his son? Matthew supposed it was much better that he was acting out such a twisted fantasy here though, instead of going home after work and daring to do it there.

Randomly, his thoughts turned to Dorian. The boy had been tortured by his captors, experimented on and subjected to horrors that even a grown man would break under. He had lost everything to that abuse and could still potentially lose so much more. Had it been anything like this?

The heat pulsed again as Matthew tried to fall asleep next to the man. This time it was like a bolt of energy through his skull, causing his fists to clench and muscles to shudder.

Had Dorian felt this heat? Would Dorian be able to tell him what sudden sickness had plagued him?

He lifted the teddy bear and stared at it, brow furrowed with thought. The man had mentioned at some point that the name of the bear was Mariah. He had taken to cuddling it as he slept beside the man. It made the heat go away, replacing it with something else that was just as unexplainable, but much more bearable.

by **Matthew** on March 16th, 2015, 11:56 pm

"Have you ever thought about using your powers for good?" Dorian rolled his eyes at the question, shaking his head and not really giving an answer as he stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and swallowed. Matthew had assumed it wouldn't be that easy to instill him with good values that would guide his abilities.

But that was a mindless question. It wasn't the real question. The real question was next.

"Dorian, what if I had found someone that was experimenting on a child in a similar way to how you were experimented on?" Matthew phrased the soft question out of the blue, during the middle of a very small dinner that would do practically nothing to sate their hunger.

The child froze, eyes shooting towards Matthew, face going blank for a brief moment and then filling with grief and pain. Memories of those days flitted behind his eyes, soon followed by memories of his sister, finished with memories of how those very same people had removed her head. Then, his face twisted, the utter rage plain on his features. He slammed his fist down on the table, the wooden piece of furniture shuddering, Matthew tilting his head at the sudden show of impressive strength. He was aware of what the boy could be. Of the danger this presented. But he had to know. Maybe that would lead him to his answer. "I would kill them, Matt." The boy broke Matthew from his thoughts, his face having transformed into a mask of hatred, fueled by memories. "I would subject them to the same exact suffering, then I would chew their throat from their body. That would be the only thing that satisfied me."

Matthew slowly nodded, gaze intense as he tried to click the puzzle pieces together. The boy was so far apart from every other child his age. He had suffered so much and it had changed him forever. Even the normally apathetic Harlot could see this. The child stared at him, not fully understanding where the question had came from, but again spoke, this time with an urgency. "Promise me. Promise me you wouldn't ever let someone do that. Promise me you would save them."

The Harlot stared, not understanding. How would he be able to prevent such a thing? It wasn't even really his place. It certainly wouldn't help with explaining the heat that was haunting his head, a mystery that was starting to consume him. Whatever the case, ending an abusive situation like what might be possibly occurring with his client was something that would be too difficult to do. He was sworn to secrecy when it came to his clients, no matter what the perversion. The man would simply write it off as a fantasy and nothing more. There was no proof. There was merely a lustful imagination brought to life behind the closed doors of a Touchy Subject.

His silence lasted a tick too long and Dorian spat at him, face a mixture of pain and anger as he shoved himself up off the table and stomped out the door.

Matthew stared after him, faintly noticing that the heat had vanished. It had been replaced by something that felt hollow and cold.

by **Matthew** on March 17th, 2015, 12:32 am

His wrists and ankles were raw. He would have to talk to the Madame, make her aware of his weakening condition and make sure she spaced these sort of fantasies further apart. He had made sure to purchase the appropriate salve and apply it to the tender locations as instructed, but the frequency at which he found himself bound to a bed was starting to increase. Interestingly enough, he had noticed that bondage was one of the more popular kinks. Most of the time it was a less-intense fantasy, his role equally distributed between being dominant and submissive from one day to the next. When it came to being dominant, it allowed him to practice his relatively-simplistic torture techniques. At the very least, he could attempt to intimidate his client. When it came to submissive, he was also allowed to study, just from the other side of things. He analyzed ideal torture methods based on how they drew cries of agony or pleas of mercy from his worn body and tired lips. It was all very educational and the clients had respected his wishes to have no lasting scars left on his slim figure.

“I love you, Matthew.” The Harlot was jolted from his thoughts by the words, the client slipping his hand into Matthew’s hand to give it a tender squeeze. The Harlot turned, offering a smile and a soft kiss on the cheek, knowing that his client liked to be responded to with pure and simple affection.

Bates. That was the name of the client. Matthew had started asking him little details here and there during the few moments that Bates wanted to spare for aftercare. Matthew found it strange how the man was capable of such depraved sexual violence, only to sometimes need held close as he loudly sobbed himself to sleep. He sometimes seemed near-desperate for tender touch and small, intimate conversations about each other. The Harlot had decided upon something rather strange, though.

He told only lies about himself while memorizing every single truth about Bates.

Fred Bates

Appears Human | 41 | Male

Born in Zeltiva. Bullied as a child, protected by childhood friend. Social outcast, heavily depended on single friend.
Mariah was her name.
Fell in love. Married. Could only afford a house in a cramped section of East Street. Was still happy.
Happy because of Mariah.
Mariah became pregnant. Secretly despised the idea of a child. Was afraid of losing her attention.
Mariah's attention.
Died during childbirth. It was a boy. He lives alone with the boy now. Hard being a single father. Resents the boy sometimes, though he knows the child didn't mean to do it.
Didn't mean to kill Mariah.

The Harlot hadn't realized how manipulative he could be. He hadn't quite realized how much power he had gained over the past few seasons. With the right seductive word and a gentle caress of Hypnotic Djed, Matthew could gently lead Bates to any idea that Matthew wanted him to end up at. The Harlot had come to realize that Bates was the source of this heat that seemed to have caught his innards on fire. The sensation often haunted him through every tick of every day, slowly wearing away at Matthew's considerable patience. It was an emotion of some sort, that much he had realized. But what emotion was it? No emotion had ever plagued Matthew this long before. In the end, he realized that Bates held the answers that he needed. Bates, Melin, and Mariah. How would he get these answers, though? He needed to get closer. He needed the man to trust him. He needed the man to need him.

The man had an obvious void. He wanted to be loved, to be accepted, to be treasured. He wanted Mariah again. He wanted someone to care for again, and for that single person to care for him. It didn’t take long for seductively sweet words and strands of Hypnotic Djed to implant the idea into Bates mind that Matthew was that single person. Matthew was the one that loved him now, that would take care of him. He was so desperate for such a thing that he didn’t realize his lustful love consumed him in a mere matter of days. When Bates next confessed his love for Matthew, it wasn’t because of a heated night. It was because Bates truly believed it.
When Matthew asked to move in with him so he could better service him, so he could become Bates personal harlot, the man was only happy to agree.

After all… Bates thought he had finally found someone to love him. And that was all he wanted.

To be continued.

by **Keene Ward** on May 9th, 2015, 3:09 am

Grades

“For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”
-Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Matthew

Skills

Lores

Rewards/Consequences
+A thin cut along Matthew's back; two weeks to heal without medical attention, a week with balm. If balm is used, the scar with be relatively thin mark from the bottom of his right

shoulder blade to the middle of his back at a slight angle, difficult to spot unless examined from a natural, conversational distance. If not, it will be a thin, noticeable mark from the bottom of his right shoulder blade to the middle of his back at a slight angle.

Notes
Wowza. Very intense thread. I know you were a little worried about the content, and I agree that it's uncomfortable. However, if you had removed anything else other than the first post with the woman (which I still think helps augment the entire situation in a meaningful way), this thread would not have been nearly as effective. You did an amazing job of instilling this incredibly human feeling to Matthew through his instincts rather than his inner monologue through the description of the emotions he didn't understand and the bear. I'll be reading the second half or halves of this, whether I get to grade them or not. Very impressive.

I have a lot of respect for your writing and even more so now.

If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!

Solo My Body for Your Perversion [A Touchy Subject]