{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"c49a2d16-6db0-4195-84bb-ce30c016c63c","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2025-06-18T06:36:05.039Z","title":"Suffer in Silence","slug":"suffer-in-silence","shortId":"gm1oBJhq","authorNote":"Glenn meets Joy at a play party. He is astonished at how much torture her toy can take without making a sound. She tells him about a special training school. Will he take Erin? \n\nNB: These acts are carried out by highly trained fictional characters. Don't try this in real life unless you like spending time in hospital and jail. Although this story is tagged “snuff,” it is only suggested and implied.","disclaimer":"Please don’t copy this elsewhere. If you like it, leave me feedback, and if you want to share it please send a link. Much obliged to you. :-)","type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Glenn and Erin meet Joy and toy at a play party, and play hard!","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"0ed56f7a-cefa-449a-b844-ea3670b896cd","title":null,"summary":"Glenn and Erin Mason were a 24/7 Master/slave couple. He was the master, she was the slave. They liv","wordCount":2454,"readTime":12,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

Glenn and Erin Mason were a 24/7 Master/slave couple. He was the master, she was the slave. They lived in a part of the country that had a very active BDSM scene, with plenty of play parties, both public, and by invitation only. They were well known for the intensity of their play.

Glenn was a bit shorter than average, maybe 5’6” or so. He looked like a bowling ball, weighing in at about 300 pounds. He had black hair that hung below his shoulder blades, and a neat goatee that he thought made him look evil. It didn’t. He was 28, and had been kinky since his first girlfriend had asked him to tie her up, back when both were only 16.

Erin was very different. She was taller than he, and stood nearly six foot in height. But despite the difference in their heights, there was never any doubt in the minds of observers of who was master, and who was slave. She weighed perhaps 150 pounds or so, mostly in her tits and ass. She had red hair that (when it was free) hung below her ass. But usually it was up in a bun, or pony tail, or sometimes just stuffed into a bondage helmet. Her tits were the size of large melons, and her ass was, as Glenn liked to joke, big enough to park a truck on. She was 22, but had been raised in a kinky household, where her mother, and her older sisters, were all slaves to her father and her brothers.

Glenn had purchased Erin from her Father when she was 16. She was his college graduation present to himself. But despite the way their relationship had begun, they had come to love one another over the last seven years.

They had developed a reputation in the local scene for being heavy players. She was often requested as a stunt bottom for heavy demonstrations, as her ability to soak up pain was legendary, and had earned her the nickname, “Chooser of the Pain.” That was by analogy with the Norse Valkyries, to whom she bore a strong resemblance, who were known as “Choosers of the Slain.”

One night, they were at a private party, hosted by a friend who didn’t freak out when the two of them really cut loose. They had gone off to one of the outbuildings in the back yard. They were sitting for a minute, getting ready to play, when they saw another couple they didn’t know step into the play space.

The dom was short, barely five foot tall, and probably not more than one hundred pounds or so in weight. She was dark skinned, probably of African descent, but with a bit of Western European mixed in. She wore a black leather corset that lifted and displayed her generous tits. She also wore a black leather bikini panty, and black leather thigh high boots. In short, she was exactly what anyone would picture if someone asked them to visualize the stereotypical femdom.

Her slave was not what you’d imagine. She was very tall, at least six foot four, and at least 250 pounds. But she was not fat. She was super curvy, like a 5’5” 120# girl who’d been inflated. Her tits were at least basketball sized, with nipples nearly an inch long, pierced about half-a-dozen times each. Her areolas were the size of saucers.

Her body was covered in bruises, both fresh and faded. Clearly, she and her mistress played hard, and often.

“My name is Joy,” the black dom said. “Do you mind if we play over on the other side of this space? It’s the only play space here that allows blood, and I really feel the need to whip my toy to blood tonight.”

“Not at all,” Glenn answered. “I’m Glenn, by the bye, and my slut is Erin. We came here for the same reason. It’s been too long since I gave her a blood-whipping.”

“Oh, really,” Joy said. “How hard do you two usually play?”

“At times like this, I generally like to torture her until she passes out, then wake her up, and do it again. She’s pretty much a torture sponge.”

“Me, too. Perhaps you’d like to swap victims? My toy is a delight to torture. She can take anything you can dish out, without making a sound.”

“You don’t say? You know I’ll need to see that for myself.”

“Then it’s a deal? I get to take Erin on a trip to Hell, and you do the same to my toy?”

“It’s a deal. But what’s your toy’s name?”

“Who cares? It’s not worth learning their names. I just call them all ‘toy.’” Turning to Erin, she added, “you, on the other hand will call me Lady Joy, if I permit you to speak. But generally, I just want you to suffer, not to talk.”

Erin nodded, and Joy led her over to one side of the play space. Glenn led toy to the other side. Both dominants decided to chain their victims wrists up over their heads, so they could be single-tailed all over their bodies.

Both doms drew back their single-tails, and both struck.

There is no mistaking the sound of a single-tail striking flesh, and for the slaves, no mistaking the feeling.

But both slaves showed no reaction.

Glenn was determined to make toy cry out, and began to whip her furiously. He saw Joy doing the same to Erin.

It took almost a half-hour before Glenn drew blood from toy. She had remained silent that whole time. He was impressed.

He looked over to see how Joy and Erin were doing. He saw that Erin was bleeding from more than a dozen cuts, but the only sign of the pain she was in was her heavier breathing. Glenn was proud of her.

The two doms continued to whip one another’s slaves. The blood flowed freely from many cuts on each slave’s body. At last, Erin began howling her agony, though toy still remained silent.

Glenn was really enjoying whipping toy. She was clearly in agony, and her body shook with every whip stroke. Glenn wasn’t sure whether it was her obvious ability to soak up torture, or his desire to make her scream that drove him to such savage fury. All he knew was that for the first time in years, he let go, and gave full vent to his sadism.

When he finally came back to himself, he saw that toy was a mass of cuts and blood. She still hadn’t made a sound, and merely hung in her bondage.

Glenn looked around the room, and saw Erin had been whipped every bit as brutally, and was prevented from howling by having her head held between Joy’s thighs. As he watched, Joy came to a shuddering orgasm, clearly not the first she’d had from Erin’s talented tongue.

Joy noticed that Glenn had finished with toy, and pulled Erin free from between her legs.

“Thank you for letting me torture Erin,” Joy said. “She is a delight under the whip.”

“You are most welcome,” Glenn responded. “And she is. As is toy. I’ve never seen or even heard of a pain slut who could take a whipping like that without making a sound. How did you manage it?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Joy answered him. “You let me ride that beautiful cock until I am satisfied, and then I’ll tell you. And perhaps we can let our slaves 69? I know how rare it is for toy to find a slave who isn’t at least a foot shorter than she is, so someone she can 69 with easily is a treat. Plus, watching two hot sluts get it on gets me hot, too.”

“Deal,” Glenn said.

Joy gestured to a nearby bed, and Glenn met her there. Erin and toy crawled over near the bed, and took up a head-to-toes position, with Erin laying on top of toy, pussy-to-mouth and mouth-to-pussy.

“Lay back,” Joy instructed Glenn. “I want to make this blowjob last.”

He did so, and she crawled on to the bed, and put her head between his legs.

Glenn was quickly hard, and Joy blew him like she was dying, and his cock held the cure. But every time he was close to coming, she’d back off, until finally, after maybe fifteen minutes, he was desperate to come.

At last he grabbed her head, and forced her lips down to the base of his cock. He then skull-fucked her, controlling the depth and speed of her mouth-fucking with his hands on her skull. Finally, with a groan, he came in her mouth, and she swallowed it all without complaint.

She sucked his cock again, until he was hard a second time, then mounted him in a forward cowgirl. She rode him to several more climaxes of her own, before he announced with a shuddering groan that he was coming. She came with him.

When he had finished, she again knelt between his legs, cleaning his cock, and getting it hard once again.

When he was ready, she turned and guided his cock into her ass as she mounted him in a reverse cowgirl, so she could watch the two slaves eating each other’s cunts. This time, Joy was able to ride Glenn to more than half-a-dozen climaxes before he again came with a groan.

------------------------

Glenn lay on the bed, feeling all-fucked-out. Joy was straddling his chest, looking down at him, and licking her lips.

“That was fantastic,” she said. “You definitely held up your end of the deal, so I’ll hold up mine. But first, do you mind if I get Erin to eat me out while I’m explaining? I really want to ride her talented tongue a few more times tonight. You may, of course, fuck toy in any or all of her holes while you listen.”

“Deal,” he responded. They commanded the slaves to put their mouths to good use, and Joy continued.

“There’s a place known as the Silent Sisters of St. Susanne. It was once a Catholic nunnery, but was officially disbanded in the mid-1800s.”

“Why was that?”

“Well, it all comes back to the reason for their founding, and how they were able to support themselves for so many centuries. St. Susanne was a martyr best known for never making a sound, despite all the terrible things her captors did to her. So the Catholics started a nunnery in her name, and they specialised in learning to endure any suffering in silence.”

“That doesn’t seem like something that would get them shut down,” Glenn said.

“That wasn’t what got them shut down,” Joy responded. “It was like this. At first, they simply had their ‘suffer in silence’ sessions in the privacy of the cloister, with only the postulants, novitiates, and the full sisters present. However, they soon found that the sisters simply couldn’t supply the requisite cruelty to one another, so their training stalled.”

“But one day,” Joy continued, “the Mother Inferior realised that, while the sisters might not be summon enough cruelty to really allow their sisters to learn to suffer in silence, they could easily farm out the work. So they turned the nunnery into a ‘torture brothel.’ Men who enjoyed inflicting torture on women were willing to pay for the privilege. Especially when the Mother Inferior introduced a bounty for any man who could make one of the sisters cry out under any torture. At first, the bounty was just cash, but soon, it was the right to take one of the sisters all the way, to torture her to death. Needless to say, if she made a sound during her snuff, he got another. It was a good system, and allowed the nunnery to be self-supporting, until there were complaints. The Archbishop, who’d been a frequent torturer, and who had personally taken more than fifty of the sisters down to oblivion, was forced to disband the nunnery.”

“Of course,” Joy finished, “all that really happened was that the Suffering Sisters were no longer part of the Church, which meant that they could now offer sex along with their torture. And so they continued to train women to suffer in silence. Like I said, every six months I get a new toy, enroll her in the training, put down the one who’s currently serving me, and take the newly graduated toy for the next six months.”

“Let me get this straight,” Glenn said. “You torture your slaves to death, every six months?”

“More or less. Sometimes I’ll pick up one of the unclaimed graduates, when I want to snuff an extra toy. Now be honest. The thought of watching me torture toy to death has you turned on, doesn’t it? And the thought of torturing your little Erin to death has you ready to blow another load down toy’s throat, am I right?”

“Dammit, you are. You are one sick chick, but apparently I’m just as sick, because I want to not hold back with Erin. I really enjoyed letting loose with toy, tonight.”

Erin was laying on the floor in a fog of endorphins and orgasmic bliss. Glenn threw a blanket over her, and said, “I’ll be right back. I’m heading to the main space for some cold sodas.”

He left, watching Erin almost comatose, and with Joy riding toy’s tongue to some loud orgasms.

It was about twenty minutes before he returned. There was a great pussy-whipping scene that he stopped to watch. He went over to Erin, and shook her gently.

“Earth to cunt Erin,” he said, teasing her.

“Yes, Master?” she answered.

“I’ve brought you a Diet Pepsi.”

He looked around and saw that Joy and her toy were not present.

“Did you happen to notice when Mistress Joy left?” he asked.

“No, Master, I was delightfully lost in space,” she smiled. “That session was wonderful.”

“Damn,” he replied. “She was going to give me some information. Well, never mind. I’ll ask around and get her contact info.”

But neither the host, nor any of the attendees knew Joy. In fact, Glenn and Erin were apparently the only two people who had seen them at all.

He got his phone, and googled all the variations he could think of of “the Silent Sisters of Saint Susanne,” but all he found was a Wikipedia article saying that the order had been disbanded a few centuries ago. But there was no indication anywhere that he could find to suggest they still existed, let alone that they were local.

He chalked the whole experience up to imagination or hallucination, and forgot about it.

A few months later, he was driving home from work. He periodically liked to try different routes, both for the fun of exploring, and because it was useful to know other ways to go.

That day, he noticed a large compound, with a sign out front proclaiming it to be the Silent Sisters of St. Susanne.

When he got home, he told Erin, “Cunt, we’re taking a little trip this weekend.”

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