Of Death & Desire (Closed for PrettyPosie)

Samael also known as Sam, but more commonly called upon as 'Master Sam' was chewing a piece of bubble gum thoughtfully as he watched the new candidates for the prized position of his submissive. Prized because of the dedication, technique, and love he always showed to the fortunate woman or girl who landed in that spot. Being Sam's submissive was not solely about the kinky games they played, nor the pleasure and pain the more often then not masochistic females enjoyed. In fact, it was much more desired for the discipline and life lessons he taught in order for them to find what they truly desired in the world at large. While many thought they had fallen in love with him, he truly knew that they only fell in love with the idea of him, and while many screamed, begged, and cried to remain in his service Sam faithfully booted each and every one of them out into the world. Where they landed on their feet, and quickly moved on to find success.

Many returned to give him thanks and praise. Before long the lines had grown at these auditions, and nowadays the proceedings took an entire day. Sam had even gotten to the point that he could dismiss the first half of the group on looks alone and still find the one he wanted amongst those whom were left.

This was actually pleasing to him, for at first he had staunchly said that looks had no bearing on these types of relationships, and they didn't. But more recently he'd grown to desiring a certain type of slave especially in physical appearance. As he searched and tried to find the truth in his own life. What was right for him.

So now... The long line flowing past him consisted solely of woman and girls (girls being over the age of 17, but still possessing a childish, almost innocent look) who stood no taller then his six foot two frame, and indeed were often much shorter. Some had well shaped and well defined breasts, but for the most part they were smaller than what most men desired. And none were too large that he could not grip them in one hand each. All were slim to petite, and the more filled ones were firm and flat, not flabby in any way. But their faces were key. Cute and innocent were the first two that always passed, and for these traits others could be overlooked. Next were Angelic and Beautiful, classic designs that no man could pass up. Lastly were Elegant and Plain, and if any had these two then their bodies were what Samael greatly desired, for Elegant he found often too bitchy, and Plain generally too slow or full in the face.

Samael had become picky, but he was not mean-spirited about it.

It was the interview, after all, that truly made or broke the candidate. This was just a way to clear off those that he would need to work harder with and for to bring their souls into complete and utter submission. Many had already been slaves, but were too rebellious for their previous masters, some were brand new and nervous, and still others fit neither category and were here for some other reason. Samael did not know why, nor did he often care. He only cared when he found the one. The right one, and the right one he would know perfectly well.

As for himself. Standing at his impressive, but not overly strange height. Samael had an air of Mastery about him. That was why even some of the other dominants also refereed to him as Master Sam. It was more of a term of teacher than slave driver, much like the Jedi from Star Wars. Samael chuckled at that, and not a few of the candidates glanced at him when he laughed. His eyes met many of those, and each looked away in shame after the anger of his broiling black eyes met theirs. His powerful shoulders and lean body filled the white tee shirt underneath his black polo wonderfully. Again, not a few eyes darted to his chest where the shirt fell off the ridge his pectoral muscles created. His long, dark, black hair fell wetly against his neck and cheeks where the bangs threatened to cover his white, but healthy skin.

This time he was looking for something different.

It wasn't looks that he desired, or emotion. He needed to find a lack of... Of limits.

His most recent slave had become frightened with him, and he'd been forced to release her upon realizing that she was ready and he hadn't let her go. He'd continued on, progressively becoming more sadistic and more daring with each and every one of her limits. Searching for a place where there were no limits. Where nothingness could be felt and held. The plateau existed. He was sure of it. He dreamed of the dark warmth every night, and he could verily taste it as he could see it and hear it, but he could not attain it on his own. Or with one of the everyday regular submissive that he had become renowned and rich in dealing with. Find and reaching this secret world was a thought and desire that was slowly driving him insane from the inside out, and he could bear it no longer. This search would go on forever, until he found the one that he could push... And push... And push, and never stop pushing until there was nowhere else to go.

Black hair flashed in front of his eyes.

"Stop!"