Torched

My slave has come to the clinic for his weekly branding, a treatment to remind him of his place and to ensure his marks never fade. i am dressed in my traditional nurses outfit and i set to work heating my medical implant with the blow torch to perform some cell popping on his stomach. you can hear his skin snap, crackle and pop as the metal touches his flesh. his moans of pain can be heard over the torches sadistic hiss and the scent of charred flesh fills the clinic. sweat seeps out of him as i create my masterpiece. i switch to a cautery pen to sign my initials onto his thigh. his pain tolerance waining, his struggle becomes real. he whimpers, shakes and crips the medical chair as i warn him of the consequences if he moves. i slow down and really draw out his agony.............