Dalton (Mistress & Master of Restraint) Read Online Free PDF

the small hallway outside my front door. Devlin loc ks my deadbolts in place and I ‘ m safe and tucked in for the night. I drift off to visions of crystal blue pools of water feeling confused, ashamed, and in pain.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
    “You little freak, I can’t believe I sired you. You’re an abomination.” A rough voice growls in m y ear. His vapid breath scalds the shell of my lobe.
His thick fingers twist in the rope of my ponytail. He wrenches my head to the side with one hand while the other strikes me with an open-hand across my cheek. The force of the hit almost pulls his fingers from my hair. A few strands yank out of my skull at the root. The sting from the slap and the ache from my scalp are nothing compared to the burns that flame my skin.
“Bruno, show my nancy of a son what it means to be a real man.” The man yanks my head farther back bowing my spine, presenting a perfect canvas for Bruno.
    Bruno sneers at me in anticipation as he relights his cigar. I watch as he cuts the end of the hand-rolled Cuban. He swirls his lighter in a circle igniting the end. He puffs out white plums of smoke stoking it to flame. Bruno’s brown eyes never leave my face as he takes a few drags off his cigar. He’ s building the moment. His eyes glaze with his eagerness to cause pain.
    “Dalton, I swear you think you’ re a girl. It’s one thing to ruin your father’s hopes of a future with your love of cock. But I’m starting to think you wish you had a cunt. Maybe I will m ake you wear a dress since you’ re so fond of kissing boys.”
My head is yanked farther back pulling a whimper from my lips. S everal more inky , black strands break from the force of his fist.
“Bruno, burn the fag out of my son.” He commands his underling to do his bidding and it isn’t a hardship for the si mple-minded buffoon.
At twelve-years-old I’ m more evolved th an Bruno. He’ s great muscle for my father though, as is apparent as he slowly moves in with the lit end of h is stogie. Flames sear in white- hot agony on my chest. The sizzle of flesh and the scent of my burning skin have me retching in my father’s hold. Nothing comes up my throat si nce I haven’t eaten since the ni ght before . I don’t scream knowing that it will feed into their pleasure. I drag in large breaths of air that are tinged with the putrid scent and cigar smoke.
Bruno draws on the stogie stoking its flame. I watch as embers ignite the end to cherry- red. The torture stick is applied to my left nipple and I cannot control the wail that frees from my throat. My body gives out at the knees and the only thing keeping me upright is my father’s hold on my hair.
    My body flashes with sweat as I try to accept the pain. I huff in more of the noxious odor trying to calm myself before I hyperventilate. I hang like a rag-doll enduring the pain. I learned long ago that if applied long enough the cigar deadens the nerves searing the pain away. Bruno improved his technique. He no longer leaves it longer than a few seconds in one spot. He stokes the end hotter by sucking a drag off the cigar before he applies it to my skin every time.
    This time my punishment is harsh er than the last. My last offens e was an erection that came unbidden when they brought a couple in to touch while I watched. When my father noticed my fascination with the boy I was punished with a whipping across my back. I didn’t ask to be gay. I cannot control my baser urges. My father sets me up in situations for me to fail s o that he and his associates could punish the gay out of me.
    My I talian, head of organized crime father feels that he’ s being pun ished for his crimes by having as son that’s gay. I believe I’ m being punished by having a douche - bag for a father. We don’t agree to disagree. Instead he holds me while his muscle punishes the gay out of me.
My current offens e is my