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A Story for Topazzz
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
A Story for topazzz
by His Lordship
Scene: The Green Door room at the Mitchell brother's
O'Farrell Theater. The ceiling is high, and the walls are
painted with reproductions of erotic mosaics from Pompeii.
The tables are heavy, padded and upholstered, to allow the
table dancers to get down and dirty in comfort. Tonight the
room has been booked for a private party. In one corner is a
small stage remarkable for its shower fixtures. On stage, a
man in a dress is playing guitar. Some of audience are
listening, more are admiring his legs, and still more are
intent on the entertainment to be derived from the occupant
of their table top.
At one table howls of laughter are coming from a group who
are pouring hot wax on a partially dismembered stuffed
crocodile. Another contains a figure of indeterminate sex
completely enshrouded in saran wrap, with the exception of
its feet. The soles of these feet are being teased, one by a
woman with a very sharp knife, and the other by a well
dressed man with a rubber whip. One table has a naked woman
bent over it, her hands tied in front of her, her nipples
pierced with purple rings, her ankles in a leg spreader, and
her buttocks bearing the marks of a recent birching. Next to
her on the table is the bundle of twigs that was used, a few
of them still bearing tell-tale traces of marshmallow. On
the next table a woman poses, proudly brandishing her strap
on dildo, offering to take all comers in the ass. A line
starts to form.
At the back of the room is a crowd of, say, 87,000, silent
but watching intently, some disgusted, some drawing strength
from what they see. A voice from the back starts to shout
something about Jesus. A wild eyed figure pushes his way to
the front wearing a tie and brandishing a bible. Suddenly
there is the sound of a dragon exhaling, a brief
conflagration, and a pillar of greasy ash crumbles where the
protester had stood. Who would have thought that so many
people would have brought flame throwers along?
The guitarist finishes and the Master of Ceremonies returns
to the stage. He has close cropped dark hair with more than
a tough of gray, a short beard, glasses and an English
accent. On close inspection his tuxedo proves to be made out
of black leather. "Thank you. Now for the main event..." At
this point his voice is drowned by howls of laughter and
pain from the table with the stuffed toy. "Someone stifle
that crocodile!" the MC orders.
There are cries of "Alligator!" and "They're all crazy about
mfffff..." and the noise subsides.
The MC continues: "We have gathered here to celebrate the
virtual piercing of the slut-slave topazzz. Her Mistress
will now present her to us." The lights dim, and a spotlight
points to the door. The Marchessa enters first, leading
holding a leash. topazzz follows, naked but for her collar
and high heels, and is led up onto the stage. The MC bows
slightly to the Marchessa. "Marchessa, will you give
permission for your slut-slave to be pierced here in cyber
space?"
"I will."
"topazzz, in the presence of your virtual family, will you
accept these rings that will mark you as a slave for ever?"
topazzz smiles. "I will."
The MC beckons to an assistant who is backstage. She wheels
on a hospital stretcher. She is short and busty, and wears
heels, stockings, a garter belt, a push up bra
that leaves her nipples bare, and a pair of lacy panties.
topazzz climbs on to the stretcher and lies on her back. A
video camera zooms in on her breasts, and the image is
projected onto a huge display screen above the stage. The
audience is stopping their individual activities, and
starting to watch the ceremony.
"You will need something to hold onto," says the MC. "On one
side perhaps your Mistress will permit you to hold her
hand." The Marchessa takes her slave's hand, and smiles at
her a little. "For the other side we need a volunteer." He
points at a figure in the audience. "You'll do. Yes, you
with the pointy ears. Get up here." A man climbs up onto the
stage. "No, topazzz, not his hand, hold on here." The MC
guides topazzz's fingers to a different appendage. "Now when
it starts to hurt, squeeze really hard."
The assistant helps the MC into a pair of surgical gloves.
"What would we do without latex?" he asks.
There are cries of "Use PVC!" and "Black leather!" from the
crowd.
"Ice cube," the MC orders his assistant. She hands him an
ice cube held in a pair of forceps. He rubs it across
topazzz's nipples, until they are erect. "Antiseptic." Her
nipples are sterilized. "Panties." Blushing, the assistant
removes her panties and holds them out to him. She has no
pubic hair. The MC takes the panties in a pair of forceps,
and stuffs them into topazzz's mouth, then tapes her mouth
closed with surgical tape.
"Piercing clamp!" The MC takes a device like a hemostat, and
clips it on to topazzz's left nipple, with just enough
pressure to grip firmly without too much pain. The tips of
the clamp are U-shaped, to allow a needle to pass through.
"Needle." topazzz enters another world, as the sterile point
ravishes her flesh. There seems to be nothing in existence
beyond the pain and the feel of the Marchessa's hand
gripping hers. The sharp pain is subsiding to a dull throb
when suddenly a new burst of pain comes from her right
nipple, as that, too is pierced.
The needles are removed, and the rings are inserted. topazzz
opens her eyes and looks up at the projection TV screen
which is displaying the ritual in close up for the benefit
of the audience. She is shocked by the size of the rings.
They are gold, about an inch and a half in diameter. She
looks down at her breasts. "Pretty, aren't they, topazzz?"
says the MC. topazzz nods her head.
The MC's assistant places a thick wet cloth over topazzz's
breasts, and then pulls the rings through slits cut in the
cloth. "Heat sink." Metal clamps with a cups containing ice
cubes are attached to each side of each ring. topazzz feels
the rings become cold, and the pain recedes. Then the MC
takes a tiny propane torch and proceeds to solder the ends
of the rings together. They heat up again, but not painfully
so. Soon both are permanently welded closed.
The cloth and gag are removed, and the Marchessa and the MC
help topazzz to her feet. The MC starts to applaud, and soon
the whole audience are on their feet, clapping and cheering
for topazzz. The Marchessa takes up the leash and leads her
slut slave out through the crowd - topazzz feels hands
reaching out to caress her as she passes.
"Goodnight everyone," says the MC. "Thanks for being part of
this. Next month's event is a ritual branding, so drop me a
line if you want the letters ASB on your bottom..."
His Lordship
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