Chapter 16: Branded Property
The green walls were waiting, and they carried the faint, greasy smell of linseed oil and mildew. Eleanor led Sam into the basement studio, her hand on the small of Sam’s back, guiding her toward the black tattoo chair positioned under a single, surgical light. “Sit,” Eleanor said, her voice stripped of all its previous heat, leaving only a brittle calm.
Sam lowered herself into the cold leather, the shackles for wrists and ankles hanging open like silent questions. She looked at the tray Eleanor was preparing, seeing the familiar ink pots, but then a new, sleek device with a cord. “That’s not a needle,” Sam stated, her throat tight.
“No,” Eleanor agreed, clicking a switch on the handheld pen; a faint, red glow heated its tip, and the air crackled. “It’s a cautery iron.” She secured Sam’s left ankle with a leather cuff, the buckle snapping loud in the quiet room. “You wanted my initials buried in your skin, a brand no ink could ever match.”
Sam’s breath hitched, her eyes fixed on the glowing point. “Green,” she whispered, the word scraping out. Eleanor pushed Sam’s thighs apart, securing the other ankle, and positioned the red-hot tip against the soft, inner flesh of her left thigh. The sizzle was instantaneous, a sound like fat in a pan, followed by the uniquely nauseating scent of burning meat.
Sam jerked against the restraints, a choked sob of pure agony tearing from her lips as Eleanor traced the cursive ‘E’ with deliberate, slow cruelty. Pleasure, sharp and impossible, shot through Sam’s core, intertwining with the pain. “Fuck, oh god, it burns,” Sam wailed, her body bowing, her cunt clenching around nothing.
“I know,” Eleanor murmured, her own tears cutting tracks through the dust on her cheeks as she moved to the right thigh to begin the ‘V’. The pen seared, blackening the skin, smoke curling up toward the light. Sam’s cries dissolved into broken whimpers, her head thrashing, her hips rolling as if seeking friction.
Eleanor finished the final curve and killed the pen’s glow, the sudden silence ringing. She leaned down, her mouth hovering over the blistered, weeping brand. She did not kiss it. She breathed across it, watching Sam shudder. “Mine,” Eleanor said, the word a raw vibration against the ruined skin.
Eleanor’s smilesxxxxxxxxx
The ruined flesh wept a clear, hot serum. Eleanor unbuckled the restraints, the leather straps falling away from Sam’s trembling limbs. She pulled Sam up by her armpits, the move clinical, and turned her to face the green wall, pushing her chest flat against the cool paint. “Hold yourself open for me,” Eleanor commanded, her voice still that terrible, flat calm. Sam’s hands, shaking badly, reached back to spread her own ass cheeks, exposing her cunt and the slick, swollen folds around the new barbell. Eleanor’s fingers slid through the wetness, gathering it, then smeared it roughly over the two blistered brands. Sam cried out, the friction a bright, shocking agony that made her knees buckle. “Stay up,” Eleanor ordered, positioning the thick head of her strap-on against Sam’s entrance. She didn’t push; she let the pressure build until Sam was whimpering, pushing back against it. “You’ll take this because you asked for the fire,” Eleanor whispered, then drove forward in one brutal, shearing thrust. The fill was devastating, stretching Sam impossibly wide, a deep, internal counterpoint to the surface burns. Eleanor fucked her with slow, deliberate pistons of her hips, each stroke making the branded thighs rub together. “Does it hurt?” Eleanor grunted, her hands digging into Sam’s hips, nails breaking skin. “Yes,” Sam sobbed, her face mashed against the wall. “Do you want me to stop?” “No,” Sam wailed, “fuck me deeper, please, use it.” Eleanor quickened her pace, the slapping sounds wet and sharp in the room, her own breath coming in ragged gulps. Sam’s inner muscles clamped and fluttered around the invading silicone, her body betraying her, convulsing toward a climax woven from pure damage. Eleanor’s hand snaked around, fingertips finding the steel barbell, and pinched it hard, twisting. Sam shattered, a silent, gaping scream against the green paint as her cunt pulsed. Eleanor smiled.
Eleanor s phone ring xxxxxxxxzz
Eleanor smiled as the phone vibrated against the metal tool tray, the sound a flat, digital insect. She ignored it, slowly withdrawing the slick strap-on from Sam’s clenching heat. “That was Claire,” she said, watching Sam flinch at the name as if struck. “She always calls to check on her work.” Sam’s whole body went rigid against the green wall, her breath stopping. Eleanor grabbed a handful of the protein powder from an open bag on a shelf, mixing it with spit in her palm to form a gritty paste. “Open,” she commanded, and Sam complied mechanically, her jaw slack as Eleanor shoved the chalky mush into her mouth. “Swallow it, Sam. You need the weight for what comes next.” Sam gagged but obeyed, the paste sticking in her dry throat. Eleanor’s fingers, still wet, traced the blistered brands on Sam’s inner thighs, making her whimper. “The green-walled room wasn’t about art, was it?” Eleanor whispered, her lips against Sam’s ear. “It was where Claire made you beg to be ordinary, to be nothing.” A sob cracked out of Sam’s chest, raw and unrecognizable. Eleanor pushed her onto her back on the cold concrete, straddling her face, and ground her cunt down over Sam’s nose and mouth. “You wanted to be broken? Then break. Tell me what she did.” Sam’s words were muffled by flesh and mounting hysteria. “She made me… she made me say I wanted it.” Eleanor rode her face harder, fingers twisting Sam’s new nipple rings. “And do you?” “Yes,” Sam screamed, the admission tearing her apart. “I want it, I’m empty, I’m nothing.” A profound stillness settled over Eleanor. She lifted herself off, looking down at the shattered woman. Sam stared past her, eyes wide and unseeing, breaths coming in shallow, useless pants. She was gone.