Mord-Sith - Pleasure and Pain

Carl watched the coffee grounds slowly dissolve in the near boiling water, hardly able to keep himself awake. It was a Saturday, the sun coursing in through the windows of his small flat, but he had barely mustered the energy to get out of bed moments before. His work was tough, and the time he wanted to spend relaxing on the weekend was just spent recovering from the working week, and then mentally steeling himself for the week to come. He leant back, sinking into the dingy sofa, taking a hesitant sip of the steaming drink.

Idly, he reached around for the remote control, eventually finding it buried behind one of the cushions. He fumbled with it, vaguely pointing it in the direction of the television, and turned it on. In an instant, a newsreader was practically screaming at him, and he groggily smashed the button to reduce the volume to a more tolerable level. The television was background noise, nothing more. Carl was barely awake enough to comprehend it. Soon, he had finished the coffee, and continued to sit in a stupor. He knew he should get up and try and do something with his day, but he simply lacked the energy. After another moment of self-pitying, eventually the coffee began to buzz through his system, and he felt himself becoming more awake. He knew he needed more and slowly rose to his feet.

“That’s it for us in the newsroom this morning! Next up is Legend of the Seeker! Enjoy!” came the newsreader’s voice, soon followed by the show’s musical sting. Carl took little notice of the television, instead trying his best to focus on the near mechanical process of pouring more coffee grounds into his mug. Soon, he had another mug of the precious drink. Carl only hoped it would be enough to get him to focus and actually make something of the day. He could still hear the television, the clashing of swords, people yelling, fantastical music. Whatever was playing, it wasn’t something he wanted to distract him. The sun was still streaming through his blinds, and now that he was more lucid, Carl found it almost too bright and began to walk over to them.

Just as he passed the television, he felt a sudden pressure across his neck, squeezing him tight. Shocked, he tried to move, but only managed to spill some of the coffee painfully over his hand. He desperately tried to yell, but no words could come to him. Looking down, Carl noticed a small hand clasped around his throat, clad in tight leather. Bewildered, he saw the hand attached to a similarly clothed arm, thin but powerful. Most confusing for Carl was that the arm was coming out of the television screen, where inside a furious looking woman was staring straight at him.

“Perfect”, came her voice, dripping with malice and sounding far more real than what his meagre sound system should have been capable of. “You’ll do nicely.” Carl had no time to scream as he was pulled up and into the screen with great force. His coffee cup tumbled to the floor, cracking.

The first thing Carl noticed was the light blazing down on him from above, rough shadows being cast by some kind of metal grate, high above him. He was at the bottom of a deep, round pit, lying on the ground. The cold stone beneath him felt like ice on his skin. Something put pressure on his neck once more, and he looked to see a high heeled red leather boot, pressing down hard on his windpipe. He was so close he could almost taste it, the rich, oiled smell of the leather piercing his nostrils. Carl tried to thrash, desperately writing against the force of the woman, but he found his arms and legs restrained, held fast to the floor by more women, all dressed in the same red leather, their hair in a high braid.

“That’s enough, at least for now”, came the same voice as earlier, and Carl gasped as the pressure was released from his neck. The blonde woman who had grabbed him earlier walked over to him, towering above the prostrate man, his eyes wild with fear as he stared up. “Welcome to the Chamber of Breaking, initiate”, she said gleefully. There was something in the woman’s eye’s that terrified him. He wanted to say something, but in his fear no words crept to his lips. He doubted it would have mattered anyway – Carl glanced around and could see many more of the women, standing guard around him at the edges of the room. The woman’s hand went to his neck once more, then moved almost teasingly to his chin, raising it. “Try not to worry. I think you’ll learn to enjoy this sooner than you think”, she said, moving away from him.

Carl felt his head suddenly being propped up from behind by a pair of strong hands. He preemptively tensed for the pain he was sure to be forthcoming, but nothing came. Instead, he felt something strangely enjoyable, utterly at odds with the fear he was feeling across his body. The woman was slowly, softly, massaging his scalp. He tried to turn and confront her, but as he moved, he found that her hands were still keeping him firmly in place, even if they were being gentle on his head.

Just as some of his fear was subsiding, the other women pounced on him, pinching and tearing at his clothing with maniacal glee. In an instant, his comfortable clothes were torn off of him, leaving him nude and exposed. He tried to cover at least his manhood, but his arms were held down tight by another pair of women. Carl tried to kick them off, but more women appeared, holding his feet painfully at the ankles, his legs spread. The blonde woman watched him like a spider watching a fly caught in a web. She licked her lips, kneeling down near his groin. Her voice was elated, Carl realising she was taking great pleasure at seeing him struggle in pain.

“Here”, she said, small leather hands reaching around his flaccid, trembling manhood. Carl’s whole body tensed, his struggle stopping in fear. “Let’s get you more relaxed, shall we?” she said with a quizzical, playful tilt of her head, before taking his cock in her mouth, beginning to suck. Carl could only gasp, both in shock and surprise. He could feel himself rapidly growing hard, the woman’s gloved hands working his shaft in equal measure. A sinful knot grew in his stomach, knowing he was finding great pleasure in this strange situation. The hands at his scalp shifted from their massage, and Carl could feel something tickling at his neck. Another wave of panic rose over him as he realised his hair was growing longer, now having grown long enough to tickle at his exposed neck. As he was about to speak, the woman worked at his shaft with renewed vigour, forcing the man to gasp. The gasp soon turned into a yelp of pain when two women forced his arms upwards, revealing a long-sleeved leather shirt, the exact same hue as that of the women who were toying with pleasure and pain in equal measure. They grabbed at his arms, forcing his hands into the shirt. He cried out, more in shock than genuine pain, the blonde woman still taking him into her mouth like she had been training for it her whole life.

Carl’s arms squeezed and strained as the two women forced the garment down onto him. It was far too small, the leather stretching only slightly as his bulky arms were shoved inside. Then, he realised that they were suddenly a lot more comfortable, and as he looked up Carl noticed his now leather clad arms were thinner than they had been before being wrapped in leather.

“What’s happening to me?” he mumbled, his voice soon turning into a yell as his longer hair was pulled taut behind him. The woman at his loins removed herself, her mouth dripping, and grabbed his face painfully with her hand.

“You do not have permission to speak here, not yet”, she said, furious. Carl slowly nodded; his eyes wide. The woman smiled. “Excellent. You learn fast”, she said, moving slowly back to his manhood where she continued her work, Carl’s body shivering with pleasure. The other women continued to shove and pull at the garment, forcing it down over his torso. It slid smoothly past his shoulders, and with a painful series of cracks Carl could feel his upper body reducing in size, his bones reforming. His screams echoed throughout the chamber, and he could tell the women watching him were enjoying his plight all the more, some of them biting their lips in anticipation of what was to come. He was left slimmer, his shoulders and arms reduced. The top came in tight around his neck, his skin still aching from the high-heeled boot from before.

The blonde stopped her sucking once more as his legs were forced apart, dragged high up into the air. Another woman brought out a leather pair of trousers, once again looking far too small for him, but Carl had a feeling it wouldn’t seem like that for much longer. They squeezed and slid the garment down, inch by inch, and he could feel his whole skin tingling then burning as the leather touched it, his flesh reforming beneath. As it slid up to his waist, his penis slipped out of a small hole in the leather, and the blonde resumed with glee. Carl screamed once more as his hips buckled, and sickeningly, he could feel the woman sucking him off work faster and more passionately as he writhed in pain. Was she getting off on this?

Carl’s head jerked to one side as the woman behind him grabbed at his hair. Carl couldn’t feel it through the supple leather covering his back, but he was sure it was long past his shoulders by now. He could feel the weight of it as the woman with malicious slowness, began to weave it into a tight braid at the top of his head.

The repressed tension that had been rising in the room reached a melting point. Carl saw as the horde of women ran at him, all towering above him on the floor. Most carried belts, the same red leather as the rest of their outfit, finished with ornate brass buckles. They wrapped them around him, pulling them tight and forcing another scream of pain from the man. Others pulled at the lace in the side of his trousers, pinching his skin. Some of the women were overcome, unable to help themselves any longer as they embraced their sisters, red gloved hands grabbing faces to taste each other. As the belts were pulled tighter, Carl could feel more changes wreaking havoc with his body. The fat in his legs was painfully squeezed upwards, giving him a small, round behind. Whenever he dared look down at his body, the blonde woman was staring at him in cruel delight, still working at his manhood which felt on the cusp of orgasm at any moment. The moans of the women were everywhere, their bodies rubbing all over him, Carl the paralysed centrepiece of their orgy. Suddenly, a tight corset was forced over his body, followed by a leather collar, making his laboured breathing all the more difficult.

Both leather devices were sudden pulled tight, the air being forced out of his lungs in a pained scream. In the space between the two, something was forming from the shifted fat, squeezed tight inside the leather. Carl didn’t need to look down to know what was growing on his chest, a pair of sizeable, sensitive breasts. His newly puffy nipples pressed up hard against the leather, adding another facet of twisted pleasure to his painful existence. He was scared of what these women had done to his body, but he couldn’t deny it – some of it felt good.

The blonde’s lips peeled away from his member with a sticky, wet pop. She looked down at it mockingly, Carl not yet finished. She licked her lips as she came towards him, parting the pile of moaning, sighing bodies that held him firmly in place. She knelt down to Carl’s face; his head held down on the floor. Her tongue, long and wet, covered with his juices, slowly teased at his lips. Carl tried to purse them, to have one last shred of dignity and keep the woman out, but she overpowered him, the salty taste of her tongue mixing with his own. To his own horror, he kissed her back, their tongues sloppy and interrupted as Carl gasped in pain as the belts were pulled ever tighter.

“You’re almost ready to join us”, she said, pulling away, her voice carrying over the pleasured whines of her sisters. “A few last things…” the woman said, reaching down to produce a short, blunt red baton, the pommel fastened with a shining brass chain. “This is an agiel”, she said, gently touching it to Carl’s forehead. In an instant, he was overcome with pain, the very touch of the weapon making his blood feel as though it was boiling, as if his bones were breaking anew. She withdrew it from his skin, grinning. “In time, its touch won’t hurt you. And in time, it will bring you great pleasure as you use it on our enemies. Open up, sister”, she said, dangling it from the chain above his lips.

Carl was terrified, but he knew he had no choice. His body was changed beyond recognition, his form twisted by pleasure and pain. There was no going back from this. Shakily, he opened his mouth, and the other woman wasted no time, eager to bring the pain upon him.

As the agiel slammed into his mouth, Carl could only scream, his voice muffled by the weapon. The other woman began to moan, squeezing at her breasts as the pleasure became too much. Carl tried to put the pain aside, but it was too much, too overpowering. No matter what he tried, what he tried to focus on, the pain was there, a searing heat and ache screaming through his body. His face cracked and reformed, his broad jawline gone. His nose crunched, reforming into a smaller, more erudite shape. With another burst of pain, his eyebrows were plucked, the hair tearing itself out.

He tried to stare at the other women, their bodies playing and squeezing one another, and amidst all the pain he felt his cock rise again. A part of him, the thought of which sickened him, longed for this. In his heart of hearts, he wanted nothing more than to rise up and lose himself amongst the sisterhood, their bodies united in sensation.

Carl realised then that these were more than mere torturers. The love between the women that moved and squirmed around him was clearly apparent, visible in stolen glances between lurid moans.

Amidst the chaos and the pain, Carl could barely feel his hands being sheathed in leather, his hands finally shrinking into cruel, powerful implements of pain. They were strong, and dexterous enough to do all that was required of him. A pair of boots, the same as the ones that had roughly stood on him earlier, slipped over his feet, rising tightly up to just below his knee. He knew they had a heel, but he knew that he would have no issues running in them – he felt more fit and agile than ever.

Carl couldn’t resist any longer. The pain was simply too much. With a final scream, his voice jumped higher, joining the chorus of feminine wails that echoed around the chamber. He thought for a moment that the pain began to fade as the agiel roughly fucked his throat, but he realised that it wasn’t the pain that had changed, but how he was processing it. It was still there, as strong and as raging as ever, but now with each burst of pain an identical blossom of pleasure bloomed within him. He gasped, half choking on the agiel before the blonde woman removed it, looking upon her work with a sculptor’s pride at her creation. The other women stopped restraining him. Carl couldn’t wait, his hands squeezing at his body, sheathed in the tight leather. He soon found he was playing with their bodies too, finally joining the orgiastic dance that was playing out all around him.

At the centre of it all, the blonde’s lips went to his manhood once again. Carl barely glanced at her in the sea of red leather he was swimming in, her touch now one of many. Carl knew what was to come, but didn’t care. He wanted this, more than anything. Slowly, the woman worked at him for the final time. Carl’s manhood was shrinking with every movement, reducing in size until it was a tiny nub before morphing into something new. The woman licked at the fresh, quivering vagina before her. The new sister screamed, truly in pleasure for the first time, the residual pain but one of hundreds of heightened, powerful emotions that were surging through her. Just as she reached the precipice of the orgasm, there was a sudden sharp pain at her head – the braid was complete, her hair tightly bound above her. It was enough for her, and the orgasm came. She felt as though she was floating, lost in a crowd of oiled, squeaking leather, her limbs wet and dripping with the pleasurable scents of her sisters. In her trousers, the leather formed smoothly over her exposed crotch, sealing her inside.

She wasn’t sure how long she was in a daze for, but the woman’s voice was calling out to her, scooping her up from the sea of unconsciousness. “Arise, Cahlia”, she said, her voice now touched with warmth and gentleness.

Cahlia staggered to her feet, quickly adjusting to the heels. She sounded out the name in her head, eventually giving it a voice. “Cahlia”, she said, voice strong, powerful, and undeniably womanly. “That sounds right”.

“Are you ready to serve the Sisterhood, Cahlia?” she was asked. Cahlia looked around the room of beautiful women. Her old life was behind her now, and this was what she lived for. She knew her life would be spent walking the fine line between pain and pleasure, and forcing others to do the same. She was elated – especially with her sisters at her side.

“I am ready to serve, sister”, Cahlia said, picking up the agiel with a wicked smile creeping to her lips.

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A fun commission for PowerRangerPink! I apologise in advance for any inaccuracies about the show, but let's be honest, I'm sure there are more important things in the story.

I'm going to be doing a couple of shorter non-commissioned stories up next, which naturally you'll get early access to! Thanks for continuing to support my work, I really appreciate it!