Saturday, July 25, 2015

Losing My Virginity

This isn't really a story about my time with bondage, or as a slave to my owner, Jason. I've been asked to tell the story of when I lost my virginity, so I thought I would give it a go. It's short, and here it is.

I was young. I won't say how young, but I had not gotten my driver's license yet. I dated and had some sexual experience but not a lot. Making out in the backs of cars, hands down pants, my top undone. I had already discovered the fun of making a guy cum with my hand. It was remarkably easy.

There had been a couple of boyfriends, but at that age the relationships aren't deep and don't last long. I was (and am) cute, and a lot of guys asked me out, though it seemed the ones I really wanted were frequently too shy.

Anyway, my first real boyfriend that I liked and wanted to be with long term and thought I was in love with (I didn't really understand love back then), was a guy named Kevin. Taller than me by quite a bit, a good body and very nice. He was respectful, kind, and always showed thoughtfulness. And he was damn good looking.

Whenever we had the opportunity we always ended up making out. I discovered dry humping with Kevin, an interesting activity (if a little frustrating at times). He was older and drove, and sometimes if we were lucky we had time to find a place to park, and the clothes would get loosened and hands dug deep.

During this time we developed a sort of pattern where his fingers would slide under my jeans and find my pussy, and my hand would find his cock (always rock hard), and we would masturbate each other as we kissed and pressed together as best we could in his car. He always came, semen going everywhere, on my hands, in his pants, even once on the outside of my jeans (I was terrified my mom would see it and know what had happened).

Kevin knew I was a virgin. I honestly don't know if he was or not. But the makeout sessions had been getting hotter and more intense, and I had actually had an orgasm or two, and he had cum in my hand (or spurt god knows where else) at least 10 times.

One night we ended up at a party. It was at a friend's house, not really an organized party just a bunch of us going over to this guy's place because his parents were gone and we liked to hang out. There was no drinking (a rule this guy had), though we had smoked a little before going over there. It was cool just hanging out and being free for a while. I remember a couple we knew were there, and he was laying on the floor and she was on top of him (fully clothed, both of them), and grinding her hips slowly, casually against him.

Kevin and I wandered back to an extension of the living room, which was kind of an L shape so the end we were on was somewhat hidden from the living room. There was a giant bean bag chair and we plopped down and started kissing.

I gotta tell you, I loved kissing and making out with that guy. I thought I loved him, and he made me so hot and horny; it really was easy to just fall into his arms and go a little further each time. We kissed and felt each other through our clothes for a while, but in spite of the fact we were in a house with like, 6 or 7 other kids, we just got carried away. Buttons came undone, zippers slid down, my top was pushed up and his hands under my bra.

The bean bag gave way and conformed to our bodies, and while we were sort of side by side, he was more on top than I was. The shape of the chair sort of held in place, keeping me in one position under him as he pushed my jeans down and gained access to my pussy.

I was so wet. I mean, my body was ready. My legs spread some, one leg over the edge of the bean bag chair, and Kevin pushed and strained for better access, his fingers getting wet from my pussy. My hand had found his cock and his pants had slid down below his ass. I was stroking, playing with it in ways that I knew drove him crazy and would result in his spurting on me pretty soon.

He shifted his body over, moving his cock closer to my pussy, and started rubbing it against the outside top, right over my clit. I swear, I was breathing so hard, I was so horny I wasn't seeing straight.We both had let go of each other, our hands were no longer on each other's genitals, but were wrapped around the other as his hips pushed and slid across my bare pussy.

I was going to cum, and I could tell he was getting there. His jeans were only down around his thighs, but mine were down around my ankles, allowing me to spread wide. His cock continued to slide on my wet vulva, and I could think of nothing else but wanting him inside me. I didn't think about pregnancy, about disease, about the wisdom of actions at my age... I just wanted that cock to push inside me. I could taste it. I needed it.

So I reached down and adjusted his cock position just a little. No more than an inch, just enough that the head was pressed against the folds of my flesh, the entrance to my vagina.

He had been pushing, sliding up and down for a while and when I repositioned him, he stopped. Just... stopped. What??? His cock just sat there, gently pushing against the outside of my pussy.

"Are you sure?" he said. The guy was being chivalrous. Oh my god, I loved him. I nodded, "yes"...

What I didn't say was "fuck me, I want you to fuck me more than anything, you idiot!"

That was what was in my mind, though.

He pushed, gently. It was bigger and surprisingly tight. I hadn't realized what it would feel like; but he was being gentle. My back arched, I gasped a little and he stopped for a moment. I think the head of his cock was in, just barely inside me. The slowly, gently, he pushed a little more. My legs were spread as wide as the bean bag chair would allow (plus my jeans and panties were around my ankles).

It felt just fucking amazing to feel his bare hips between my thighs, and feel his cock sliding into me, however slowly. I was being filled for the first time, penetrated. I had given this to him, and he was taking me, and I wanted him inside, deep, as deep as he could go.

Didn't happen. As he pushed deeper it got more difficult. I was tight; too tight. As gentle as he was being, it was a little overwhelming. I urged him on a bit more. He slid out just an inch, to where his cock head was barely inside, and then pushed back in again. I gasped again, he was big and I was tight and while it did not hurt, it was uncomfortable. I wanted him so badly... but began to feel my body wasn't quite ready to receive a pounding.

His cock was about halfway in, I think. He slid in and out a couple more times, each time my eyes sort of glazed over in a combination of mental ecstasy, physical pleasure, and physical pain. My ass was ensconced in the form fitting bean bag chair, unable to move, and I was going to just have to keep my legs spread and taking his thrusts. I wanted it.

But, I finally decided we had done enough, and said just that. "That's enough..."

He slowly slid out of me. The remaining memory of his size spreading my flesh, distending it, filling me and penetrating inside me, stayed in my mind and feeling.

I finished him with a hand job, this time with his semen spreading on my stomach. He carried a handkerchief that he used to clean me off.

We held each other, and the feeling of his solid, real body in my arms was wonderful.

It was a week later, in his room upstairs and his parents oblivious downstairs, that we did it again, this time with me naked on my back, legs wide, knees up, and his cock deep inside me, pushing until he spurt inside and left his seed to seep out later. That was a novelty and something I had to discover. Having sex results in some cleanup and body fluids draining out.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Burning Dinner

I don't like pain. Pain hurts. I'm like anyone else, I tend to avoid pain.

Even so, as my desire for bondage and submission has developed during my life, pain has been an integral part of it. Starting in the earliest teen years my self bondage involved only basic discomfort and the discomfort was a direct result of the bondage; being tied up tightly and unable to move results in being uncomfortable and is part of the experience. Muscles cramp, rope chafes and cuts, handcuffs pinch. I've always embraced the discomfort of tight bondage and it has very much enhanced my enjoyment and satisfaction.

As I grew older and more advanced in my desires, acceptance of discomfort gave way to acceptance of pain. I may write at some point of my first experiences as a teen with boyfriends that accepted (and in some cases took advantage of) my desire for sexual bondage, and how these experiences introduced the idea that pain was a direct manifestation and reflection of how I had lost control. That loss of control is what I sought, so much so that when I felt the first twinges of ache, cramp or constricted blood flow, I also became aware of nipples hardening and wetness between my legs.

No, I don't like writhing in pain. But pain is part of my total submission and the control of another and enhances and excites me. In that sense pain is satisfying, it clarifies and sharpens the sensations of helplessness that I crave, down deep. In that sense I enjoy pain.

Jason and I had been married for almost four years and it was turning out to be the best decision of my life. It hasn't always been the easiest, but I've been more sexually and emotionally satisfied as Jason's slave than I ever dreamed I could be.

There was a time when I had behaved very well for some time, learning how to obey and satisfy my husband and owner. His needs were taken care of, his desires catered to, his passions satisfied. As a result I had earned the right to wear clothes in the house, and was seldom restrained in any significantly uncomfortable or painful way. In other words, it was getting boring.

I took matters into my own hands. One night I came home from work, changed clothes into my usual attire (that night it was tight jeans and a button blouse, unbuttoned halfway to reveal braless breasts) and started to work on dinner. Jason arrived a half hour later and came into the kitchen. I continued cooking the Chicken Marsala, forcing him to come over and touch me before I turned to greet him. (Normally I will greet him in some submissive way, by kneeling, or kissing his cheek and taking his coat, or serving him in some other simple manner). This was a minor infraction, but just the beginning.

The Chicken Marsala was coming out well. Too well. I let it simmer and turned up the heat on the pan, as well as the pot with pasta boiling. A lid on the pan kept the smoke from spreading until it was too late-- the chicken was burned. Stirring the pieces that were slightly blackened and stuck to the bottom, I kept the heat going. The pasta grew hard and burned as well. Garlic green beans were brought to a boil but immediately removed before the completely thawed; they would be nearly inedible.

Satisfied, I called Jason to dinner (another infraction). Coming to the table his face was dark, as if troubled by something. I served him dinner, and sat down to eat with him. As planned, the dinner was crappy. The chicken tasted of charcoal, the pasta was rubbery and hard, and the green beans were actually cold on the inside. Jason tried to eat, but after a few bites he put is fork down and looked at me.

"Are you serious?"

"What is it Jason? I've had a hard day and am in no mood." If that didn't do it, I didn't know what would.

Jason looked at me with a red face and quietly got up, cleared the plates on the table and returned with my leash. (I wear a permanent slave collar, so a leash is all that is needed).

"Remove your clothes," he said in a quiet but stern voice.  I unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off (no bra underneath, not allowed at home). My jeans were pealed off. I am not allowed to wear shoes in the house, so when my panties came off I was completely naked except for my slave collar.

The leash was clipped to my collar. I hung my head with my hair falling to the sides of my face as he led me into the kitchen, where he strapped my elbows behind my back leaving my hands and wrists free but with very limited movement. The leash was then clipped to a small ring in the wall. The leash was long enough I could move around the kitchen but could not leave the area.

"Clean this travesty of a dinner up, and report to me after." His voice made me a bit scared, and I nodded and set about cleaning dishes. It was difficult, really difficult with my elbows pinioned behind my back. Instead of 10 minutes it took 45.

"Sir, I am done," I called over to where Jason sat in the living room. Being naked, restrained and in trouble made me shiver with arousal. It felt good, though being naked in front of a clothed male, even my husband, always made me feel very vulnerable. I was nervous, anticipating more punishment. The nerves heightened my senses and emotions, making me excited and aroused.

Jason let me stand in the kitchen for a while as he watched the end of a sitcom on TV. I stood and waited obediently. When it ended he came over, unclipped my leash, unstrapped my arms, and told me to get my razor.

"You have not shaved properly or well. Do it now."

"I think I am fine down there. I shaved just a couple of days ago," I responded. Talk back like that is direct disobedience and I could tell was having the desired impact on Jason. He was pissed off.

"Go get the razor. Shave yourself before me. Now." Jason's voice was quieter but more dangerous. I figured I had achieved what I needed to achieve and maybe gone too far. I obediently obtained the razor and some shaving cream. Really, I was pretty clean down there, though it had been a few days. Returning I presented myself to Jason.

"Go ahead. I want to watch to assure you shave especially close. Completely smooth."

This was a little odd but I sat, spread my legs, and began running the razor between them. Shaving in front of Jason made me feel even more vulnerable and exposed. I can't remember ever doing that before, and it felt very strange. Shaving close to assure I was completely smooth left the flesh of my pussy slightly raw, but only very slightly. When I was done, Jason came over and touched me, verifying the job I had done.

"All right. Now. On the floor, on your back. Legs spread. Masturbate for me."

Yeah, this was turning out to be a somewhat strange evening, but not entirely without precedent. I slipped down, spread legs wide, and began rubbing slowly. Jason watched as I ran my fingers on the folds of flesh between my legs, feeling the pleasure of touch, enjoying exhibiting myself for him. It actually feels good to expose myself for him; I like the attention and focus, though it does make me feel very open and helpless.

Dipping my fingers inside myself I took the wetness that was welling up and smeared it over the outside of my pussy, up over my clit. I rubbed harder, feeling the pleasure coming in slow undulating waves. My other hand pinched my nipples. I felt myself reaching an orgasm. He would observe me as I reached sexual climax, My fingers were rubbing hard now, and fast. I forgot exactly what I was doing on the floor and just felt my body glowing as the pleasure flooded through me.

My hips jerked up, thrusting as if there was a cock entering me, though there wasn't. It was instinctive when I came. I moaned, whimpered a little, and then slowed. Panting on the floor I calmed, letting the pleasure slowly drain away.

Jason had observed me closely during the show. Now he lifted me up to stand and guided me upstairs to our bedroom. He led me to the corner and instructed me to stand with my face to the wall. I stood obediently and waited while he moved about the room, preparing something. I was getting nervous; obviously the acts of obedience downstairs were not my true punishment. He had something more in mind.

"Come over to the bed. Lay on it with your ass on the pillows."

There were three pillows piled up in the middle. I climbed into our marriage bed and lifted my ass up and over on top of the pillow pile. When I was positioned, my hips were propped significantly higher than my body, though the pillows made it comfortable. The way my hips were thrust up accentuated my mons pubis and hip bones. I wondered if he might fuck me then.

Part of Jason's prep was four lengths of rope. They were a good soft hemp he had used before. Doubled back on itself to make two strands, he wrapped one piece around my right ankle, slipped the ends through the loop and pulled tight. Two more wraps around and the ends through another loop and my ankle was secured tightly. He pulled the rope to one corner of the bed and tied the loose end trailing from my ankle to a small eye ring installed in the bedpost.

He did the same to my left ankle, and when done my legs were spread and secured tightly to the lower corners of the bed. I'd been in this position before, usually when he wanted to fuck me while I was tied up spread eagle. I wasn't sure he was just going to fuck me after that fiasco of a dinner service, but there I was, hips lifted high, legs tied wide apart, ready to accept him inside whether I liked it or not.

It was time for my wrists; a couple of loops and the rope tightened and stretched my right wrists high above my head and to the right. The left wrist followed. As he tied each wrist to the bedpost, Jason pulled, tightening the rope and stretching my body taught. The muscles in my arms, shoulders and back felt the pull. I remember thinking, this must be what victims of the rack felt, just before the first horrible turn began pulling their arms out of their sockets.

I shivered with horror at the thought, and turned my attention to what Jason was doing. My body was stretched tight with virtually no room for movement, making me feel as helpless and exposed as I could be. Jason left the room, exiting into the extensive en suite bathroom. I heard him rummaging about and then saw him return.

He sat on the bed between my legs, and then began to work on me. He had something in his hands, but I couldn't see what it was. I did feel it though, as he began gently smearing some sort of oil or cream on my bare pussy flesh.

It felt cool, sort of interesting and nice. At least at first. He smeared and massaged my pussy flesh, and then slipped lower between my legs, spreading my ass cheeks and placing some of the cream there as well. It isn't uncommon for Jason to ass fuck me roughly as a sort of punishment; I thought perhaps this was what he had in mind though giving me lube was out of character.

A few minutes later and the cool sensation was gone, slowly moving to a warm feeling. Jason waited, doing nothing but observing me. Not much later my pussy wasn't cool any more, it was burning hot. I grunted a bit.

"Uahhh... ah... Jason, what is that? God, it is beginning to hurt."

And it was. Flames licked between my legs, the heat scorching my flesh as the burning hot ointment soaked into my flesh. They weren't real flames of course, but they felt like it. Slowly I realized what my master had done.

Capsaicin cream. Sold as a topical pain killer, I was discovering it should actually be called a topical torture punishment cream. God, it hurt.

"Oh, fuck! Jason, please, that stuff is really hurting, it burns!"

"Yes, I suppose it does. Sort of like your dinner tonight." Jason just sat and watched me as I began pulling on the ropes which spread my arms and legs wide.

I struggled. I couldn't help it. My crotch hurt, it burned, and my ass was beginning to hurt as well. The burning sensation was the worst right at my anus. I also realized why he had made me shave-- the irritation of the blade made me more sensitive. It worked.

Straining against the ropes as automatic. The pain needed a response, I couldn't just lay there. My muscles tensed, my hips bucked up as much as they could. I tried to angle myself to wipe off the torture cream on the pillows beneath my ass, but no luck. I pushed, moving back and forth to try and use the pillows to spread my ass cheeks to I could get the pillowcases to wipe my ass. Sort of like a dog scraping their ass on the carpet. I managed to get my ass cheeks spread a little but I had so little wriggle room because of the tight stretch of the ropes, it was impossible to get my anus wiped.

It didn't matter, my clit was throbbing with fire, my labia burning. I stared at the ceiling but saw nothing. A tear trickled out of the corner of one eye and down the side of my head. Moaning and pulled, writhing and jerking, I coped with the pain as best I could.

"You are so damn beautiful in pain," Jason said as he watched me.

I flushed, partly because of the painful burn between my legs, partly from the compliment. I truly did find it arousing and made me happy to realize my pain was giving Jason pleasure.

Leaning over my panting chest, Jason took a little torture pain cream and circled my nipples with it. It felt good as he manipulated my breasts, but I knew it was not going to last long.

"Fuck, Oh, Jason, I am sorry. I will be good. Please... god, please... no..."

My hips were writhing and wriggling up and down, and I shook my breasts as the pain began there, as well.

I have a good body. A sexy one. I keep myself in shape, for him. At times like that one I knew I looked amazing, spread wide and struggling.

Jason pulled out his cock and began stroking it as he watched me. I imagined the pain had begun to subside, but it still hurt so bad. How long had I been there, an hour? More? Fuck, I was so aroused though, the pain combined with being tied tightly was what I needed. Having Jason watch and enjoy my helpless agony turned me on so much. I wanted him to cum, I wanted him to reach climax because of me, my body, my pain.

And he did. His cock was hard and pointed at my face, as he slowly stroked himself, I tried to reach up and take it in my mouth, but he held it just out of reach. So, I watched through the red haze of slowly diminishing pain as he fondled and teased himself.

He semen came spurting out and onto my face. I moaned and actually cried out, "fuck.... Siobhan... you are so gorgeous... "

The white slime spewed across my face from my forehead, across my right eye and down my cheek. Another spurt spread from my hair down my nose to my lips. My eye stung and I closed it, feeling the semen continued to drop onto my face and cover it. Some went up my nose and I snorted, then groaned again as my pussy flared up in pain.

When he was done, Jason wiped a tiny bit of semen from the end of his cock, but left the bulk of it on my face. I was continuing to writhe and pull, tears streaming down from my eyes.

"Please, Jason, it's been long enough. Please wipe that stuff off me, it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad."

"When my cum dries on your face, I will clean you up. Not before." Jason spoke kindly, but firmly. His statement seemed stab me, cutting deep and I sobbed out loud. Snot smeared down my face from my nose, mixing with the sperm.

I felt ugly. I knew my body was good, Jason enjoyed it and intellectually I knew I was extremely sexy. But the situation made me feel ugly, especially with my face covered with tears, semen and snot that I could not wipe away.

I also felt incredibly aroused. Being tied tightly, humiliated and in pain, helpless to help myself, was what I needed, down deep.

The pain was slowly but surely subsiding. It had been well over an hour, and my sobs quieted. The burning sensation lasted for some time, and Jason got himself a drink and sat next to me, gently stroking my bare flesh, playing and touching with all my most sensitive parts. It made me feel truly treasured.

Perhaps three hours after I had been tied up, Jason wiped his finger over my face. His semen had dried and was crusty, except for the points where it had mixed with tears or snot.

Satisfied, Jason went into the bathroom and returned with a makeup cleanup kit which included an oil based makeup remover and soft cotton pads. He wiped my crotch thoroughly, as if I were a baby getting its diaper changed. He cleaned between my butt cheeks, with special attention to my anus. He wiped up the burning residue of torture cream from my nipples.

Finally, he cleaned my face, wiping tears, semen and snot away.

Moments later he had untied me and I had pulled my legs up and curled into a fetal position and cried once again. He lay behind me and spooned my naked body, caressing my skin gently. I felt so loved and cared for, I was so grateful I was his.

Jason is the best.

The pain from the torture cream faded slowly. It lasted several hours, though the peak of pain started diminishing after an hour or so. I was fine by the next morning when I dressed and went to work.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

A Lesson Learned

If you recall, some time ago I was privileged to spend some time at a pony farm.

This pony farm was special; it was for human ponies. During my two weeks there I lived in a barn, in a stall, worked in the fields and practiced various exercises. I wore a tail and my feeding and bowels were strictly regulated. The stable housed a number of other human ponies, both male and female. Rules and training were strict with punishment severe (I was whipped once, and saw several others whipped while there). No human speech was allowed at any time. During my time there I was, essentially, an animal.

In spite of all these restrictions and difficulties it was one of the most wonderful times in my life. Being a pony girl was a delight; showing off, being trained and succeeding at my training, learning obedience and being dominated absolutely, working hard, and living and being cared for as a valuable pet was an amazing experience. I felt demeaned, sexy, sensual, successful, cared for, and loved while I was there.

During the later half of my time there I shared my stall with another human pony, a woman named Kerry. She was more of a lifestyle pony girl, something I didn't know existed until after I left the farm. I was there only for two weeks, but Kerry lived as a pony some of the time while at home. While we shared a stall, she and I developed something of a relationship, sharing sexual pleasures in the stable, helping each other get through the tougher times. Our communication was intimate and complete though non-verbal.

Basically, I acquired a real affection for Kerry. It was painful to leave her.

It was a complete surprise when I met Kerry some time after my experience at the pony farm. She was unrecognizable to me at first, dressed in a professional suit with makeup, drinking tea and having a scone. There was something distinctly familiar though, and I stared at her trying to remember who she was. I guess my stares aroused her interest because she looked over at me and immediately recognized me.

"Siobhan! Don't you recognize me? It's Kerry!" It was literally the first time I had heard her speak. At the pony farm the ponies are not allowed to speak.

I gasped, and immediately went over and gave her a hug. We sat down together, and feelings I had forgotten suddenly flowed over me. This was the woman that had made so much of my time at the farm a delight, with whom I had shared a lot of hard work as well as snuggles and... well.... lesbian sex. I still remembered her tail sliding against my pussy as I spooned her from behind the first night we were together.

We talked and shared and, well... it was as if I had met my soul mate. In fact, I had met my soul mate. She was everything I could desire in a woman. Educated, funny, beautiful, athletic, and... kinky. Very kinky. I have had bisexual tendencies since I was a teenager. In fact, many of my initial experiences with bondage and sexuality were with other girls. My attraction for Kerry was clear and complete.

When it was time for me to go Kerry walked me to my car. We stood close to each other and said our goodbyes, and yes, we kissed. She moved in first, but I responded immediately. The kiss was sweet, gentle, loving, deep, sexual, sexy and simply, everything I could hope for. My arms encircled her, held her body against mine as she leaned me against the car. Before we left, we made arrangements to meet again at the coffee shop, the next day.

The second time seeing her was as good as the first. Being able to talk and share inspired me, and tapped into a lesbian side of myself that I knew was there, but hadn't felt this strongly in years. We touched hands, laughed, and when it was time to go we touched a lot, and not just our hands. Our goodbye kiss was deep and long, as before. My heart ached when she finally got into her car (it was a new black BMW).

That night at home with Jason I was quiet and thoughtful. I wasn't as attentive as I should have been, and Jason disciplined me more than once, and finally threatened to make me sleep chained in the basement. That made me feel very bad for it meant I failed him and I absolutely hate myself when I don't satisfy him. I think I cried just a tiny bit at that point, and begged forgiveness, but Jason could tell something was wrong.

He held me then and I felt like his little girl, and he asked "Siobhan, tell me what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

I confessed then. About my feelings for Kerry, my lesbian desire and tendencies, and how my passions were aroused by her during our two visits. I even told him about our kissing.

Needless to say, Jason wasn't happy. "Siobhan, I understand this about you. I've known how you like women since we first were together. We've had play time with Erin and Diane, and I've allowed you to indulge. I have been open to accommodating you. But that was all with my knowledge and permission. Here you admit to having a rendezvous with a woman and kissing her, being romantic with her? Without my permission and knowledge?"

I was a little taken aback at first but immediately saw how I had erred. I knelt before Jason, bowing my head, and said nothing.

"Siobhan, you have forgotten that you are not your own. You belong to me, you are my property. I give you freedom but not to do things like this. I do understand your desires and feelings and how they can carry you away, but you must be reminded that you simply are not your own. You have essentially cheated on me with another person. You don't get to make decisions like that. I understand your bisexual tendencies and empathize, but I am afraid I can not tolerate cheating and will have to punish you for this indiscretion."

"Please, Jason, I am so sorry. I understand now how I failed, it was a momentary lapse, it won't happen again." I had lowered myself so my head was on the floor at his feet in an ultimate display of submission.

"I understand. Let me think about this. For now, we shall go downstairs. You sleep in chains tonight."

I cried as he led me downstairs into the basement. The concrete floor down there is hard, cold, and unforgiving to sleep on, and the chains Jason uses are short and don't allow much movement. I removed my clothes, which he took with him when he left, but not before he attached shackles to my ankles, wrists and neck. Shackles always leave me feeling strange (both aroused and fearful); they are so hard and permanent. He trudged upstairs and turned off the light, plunging me into darkness. I would spend the night there, shivering in the cold, unable to relieve myself or sleep during the night. The next day at work would be tough.

Remarkably I did sleep that night. The next day, early, Jason came down and unshackled me.

"Please sir, may I relieve myself?"

"Yes, of course." Jason nodded. I ran, literally ran upstairs to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and peed. The relief was tremendous. I then stretched and relieved my arms and legs from the cramps they had acquired sleeping on concrete, and got dressed for work. It was a rough day. I snapped at a few of the engineers that work for me, and ended up leaving early before I caused more problems.

That night I made a special dinner for Jason. He was appreciative, and we sat at the dinner table and ate together. I was clothed, as he had recently been allowing me to dress in the evenings. It was with pride that I wore sexy outfits around my husband and master. It was a privilege for a slave such as I to wear clothes and I understood this. I was a pet, nothing more than an owned animal, and if he wanted me naked he had a perfect right. For this reason I always loved putting on the best, sexiest, most sensual clothes I had for him. It made me feel special and privileged.

When dinner was over and I had cleaned up, I presented myself to Jason once again, on my knees before him in the living room. He was watching TV, some sort of home remodeling program. I remained kneeling at to his side as he watched, awaiting his pleasure.

When the program was over Jason turned to me and ordered me to remove my clothes. I stripped, folding my dress and underwear neatly, and knelt before him again.

"Siobhan, no more clothes for now. I expect you to remain naked in the house at all times."

"Yes, sir." I bowed my head and hid a tear that trickled down my cheek. I had lost the privilege of dressing.

That night we had sex in bed, Jason taking me roughly from behind as he does at times when he is a little upset. He usually has me on my hands and knees, grabs my hips for leverage, and thrusts away as hard as he can. I was sore but it felt so good to snuggle up next to him afterward, and the way he kissed the top of my head made me feel warm, knowing he still loved me.

The real punishment came that weekend.

Saturday morning the doorbell rang at about 11 AM. Jason answered it (I was naked, per his instructions). He admitted someone to the house and I heard the door close behind them. I wondered what visitor we had that he would allow to enter while I was naked (though wearing a simple leather harness). When he entered the family room I saw.

It was Kerry.

She was dressed in a very plain one piece dress, with no shoes. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. Her head hung as if in shame. I wanted to go to her and comfort her and ask if all was well but knew better than that. Jason led her into the center of the room and instructed Kerry to raise her arms. She did, and Jason pulled her dress up and over her head. She wore nothing except for that simple dress, so in that moment she was completely naked.

"Siobhan, Kerry. You have both betrayed your masters. I have spoken with your owner, Kerry, and he agrees that the two of you should be punished together. We understand the desire you have, but ultimate control of your bodies and affections lies with us." Jason motioned to me and I followed him as he led Kerry and myself down the steps to the basement.

I was excited to see Kerry again, but afraid of the punishment. I was truly afraid to see Kerry punished; I did not want to see her suffer for my indiscretion, but it was too late.

In the basement Jason told Kerry to lay on a table we had that was used for various bondage positions. Jason can turn any household piece of furniture or accessory into bondage or punishment equipment, it's amazing. Anyway, Kerry lay down and I was told to climb up on top of her on my hands and knees, facing the opposite way like we were going to do 69. Jason quickly wrapped rope around our arms and legs, binding us together so that my arms were secured to her legs, and my legs secured to her arms. It was an awkward position to be in, though being tied tightly and pressed up against Kerry's rather healthy body was anything but unpleasant.

Jason left for a moment and returned with some muzzles I recognized. He applied one to my face, first. The muzzle was like a panel gag, but had a short protrusion on the inside, like a stubby penis. It wasn't long enough to gag on, but did fill my mouth well and kept my jaws wide apart. On the outside of the panel was a longer rubber dildo that extended outward from my face and sagged slightly. I had always been embarrassed when forced to wear this gag; the imitation male member extending from my face just felt humiliating and ugly. The gag was strapped on my head with a harness buckled behind my head, and over the top and sides to hold the panel firmly in place. The straps in the front split in front of my eyes, slightly obscuring my vision though it was not intended as a blindfold.

When the gag was firmly in place, Jason moved behind me toward my ass and Kerry's head. I could tell from the noises that he was securing a similar gag in place to her face, behind me. I began to get a hint of what might happen.

"Now then," Jason stepped back from the two of us helplessly tied and gagged before him. "Since you appear to have the hots for each other, fuck. Fuck each other. Do it well. Do it hard. Go ahead, start."

I think my entire body flushed at that point, embarrassment flooding me. Kerry's beautiful pink pussy was just below me, my arms tied to her slightly parted legs, my breasts pressed against her hips. I did as I was told and began nudging the dildo against the outer lips of her pussy, spreading the flesh and rubbing it up and down to work its way in.. Moments later I felt Kerry doing the same to me, the soft rubber of her own dildo pushing gently against my sex.

The humiliation of what was going on triggered something in me. I am not only a bondage and pain slut, but a true submissive. The embarrassment I felt turned my flush into a heat of arousal. I wanted to be fucked by Kerry's dildo, and be forced to fuck her as well. My body lubed itself rapidly at this point and I felt the rubber dong sticking out of Kerry's face slide deeper inside me.

"Get in there, Siobhan. Kerry is inside, you need to be too. Fuck her with your face, do it!"

I pushed harder, not wanting to hurt Kerry but knowing that if I wasn't aggressive... yes, there it was. A stinging, nasty stroke on my ass from a riding crop. I grunted and pushed harder, in turn making Kerry grunt as my face-phallus forced her lips apart and pushed deeper into her body.

Sliding the black rubber dildo out of Kerry's cunt, I saw how her flesh wrapped around and encircled the intrusive member. My eyes grew hazy with sexual heat seeing this and I pushed back in, just as Kerry pushed into me. I grunted with the force she used and could feel her penetrate me deep. Oh god, this was turning out to be one of the most amazing experiences of my life; I lay pressed against Kerry, thrusting deep with my face dildo, pulling out, watching Kerry's cunt lips encircle and clasp the rubber. At the same time I felt Kerry penetrating me, pushing in and out faster, fucking me with her face.

My hips began to move in rhythm, and Kerry thrust hers up to meet me, as well.

Tied securely, gagged, and forced to fuck another woman, especially I loved-- these were a fantastic combination for me. Being tied up always arouses me, gags are seldom comfortable but to be honest, I am a pain slut. And now... having Kerry under me, tied to her, our bodies writhing in place. Wow. I could feel an orgasm brewing rapidly.

I groaned, thrust, writhed, and with hardened nipples sliding against Kerry's sweaty hips, I came. Shuddering, wriggling my hips, I stopped the thrusting motion with my head, concentrating on the pleasure that swept over me. The result was a stinging stroke across my ass; the cane bit into me again to remind me to keep going. I did, thrusting back into Kerry until she shuddered and thrust hard against my face, grunting in pleasure underneath me.

We lay exhausted on the table, the dildos inside each other but no longer moving. Jason moved in front of me. I could see his cock was out and was still dripping slightly. He had apparently masturbated and cum while watching Kerry and I fuck each other. It made me happy.

"Very good. I am going to have lunch and a beer, and will return later." With that, Jason left Kerry and I tied together, faces pressed against each other's sex, dildos inside. I rested, and then rolled to the side so the weight of my body wasn't on hers, for her comfort. She snuggled her face into my cunt briefly in a sort of affectionate way, and I did the same. It was almost as if we were snuggling in bed, kissing. Except of course we were facing opposite directions, faces buried in each other's cunts, tied so we couldn't really move.

We rested, but after a while I wriggled a little, and rubbed my body against Kerry. She felt so good to have close, in a sexual way, but also in a rather emotional way. Yes, we were being punished and this wasn't a natural position but it was still good to feel her naked flesh on mine.

Kerry responded to the wriggling with her own hip movements and before long we were fucking each other again, the wetness of our pussies making it easy. I hadn't felt this close to someone in ages and the emotional feeling of being with Kerry, mixed with the natural arousal from being in bondage and forced to submit in this way, made me so horny I couldn't stop and didn't want her to, either.

Finally Jason came downstairs and we stopped our mutual writhing, wondering what he had in store for us.

Jason removed the gag harnesses from our faces and untied us from each other. Kerry remained laying on the floor, her beautiful body in full view, still tied and unable to move. Jason tied my wrists together and then raised the rope through a pulley directly above my head so my arms were stretched tightly and I stood on tip-toe. I was used to this position, and while it is increasingly uncomfortable the longer one dangles, I became nervous because I knew being strung up like this was never the end of it. There was always something worse coming along.

Jason knelt before me and began placing clamps, similar to clothes pins, along the soft white flesh of Kerry's stomach. Each clamp pinched her skin and was uncomfortable, but she didn't cry out. The disturbing part of the procedure was revealed when I saw the clamps were joined by a thin cord. Jason was creating a zipper, a torture technique where a series of clamps are applied and then can be ripped off all at once, causing sudden, excruciating pain. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized this would be the first real pain of the day; and I would be watching.

The rope from Kerry's zipper was raised up and through another pulley above and dangled before me.

"Raise your leg, Siobhan," Jason ordered. I obeyed, not realizing what was happening. He grabbed my leg and lifted it up almost straight out in front of me. Holding it up he tied the end of the cord to my ankle.

Now, if I dropped my leg, I would be pulling the zipper from Kerry, triggering the pain.

Jason let go and I held my leg up, not letting it drop and pull on the rope. It was really, really hard. You try holding your leg up straight in front for any period of time, and you will see. My left foot was on tip-toe beneath me and my right held out in front. Most of my weight was on the rope that help my wrists above me, stretching my arm muscles out painfully. Almost immediately I was shaking from exertion, sweat trickling down my body. It was horrible.

"Two minutes, Siobhan. I will until the cord in two minutes."

If I could hold out two minutes I could stop myself from ripping off the clamp zipper from Kerry's body, but I could already feel my muscles giving out, shaking from the strain. My leg dipped slightly and pulled on the first clamp, stretching Kerry's skin. I raised my leg up again, straining hard.

I whimpered. It was too much. I tried. I didn't want to be responsible for torturing Kerry. But I wasn't going to be able to hold my leg up. I have no idea how long I made it, but with a grunt my leg suddenly collapsed down, the cord was pulled taught, and the clamps were ripped off Kerry in one smooth motion.  She screamed, and it was the most terrible thing to hear.

Jason placed the clamps back on her body, this time on the other side. There must have been 20 or 30 of them, and while I knew they hurt going on, they hurt 10 times worse getting jerked off all at once. The rope went back onto my ankle, and once again I tried to keep it raised.  I kept it raised for as long as I could; sweat poured down and my muscles were shaking when I finally dropped my leg and it ripped the clamp zipper from Kerry's flesh. Her yelp hurt my ears, and she rolled over, doubling in pain this time.

I didn't like this game but the next one was worse.

There is a simple wooden post stuck in the middle of our basement. It is inserted into the concrete floor and is used to tether me at times when I am stuck down there for a while. Jason tied Kerry and I to the post, with our backs to each other. The straps kept us relatively motionless, unable to move.

Then Jason added a little enhancement to our bondage -- he attached wires to my nipples with conductive clamps. The wires were connected to a small but powerful electric box. Another wire with a microphone extending from the box was attached to a small collar which he placed on Kerry. A similar harness was attached to Kerry, with the microphone collar attached to my own neck.

"Now then, girls. I am turning on the stun boxes. They are activated by noise, so try not to make too much, OK?"

Jason left the basement and as soon as I found we were alone and without gags, I spoke in a low tone to Kerry. "Oh, my dear Kerry, I am so sorry to have gotten you--"

Kerry jerked suddenly, her muscles tensing and her head jerking back. She cried out in pain. When she cried out, I suddenly felt a piercing, hot pain shoot through both nipples and breasts. "Aaagghh~ oh god!" I cried out, almost screaming in pain.

My scream set off the sensor in Kerry's shock box once again, and she shook from the pain, gurgling in an attempt to stay quiet in spite of the agony. As a result I only got a very brief, though painful shock, and I merely grunted slightly.

The shocks had stopped. We had learned; don't talk, and if you do get shocked, don't cry out. I was crying slightly, tears running down my cheeks, but I managed to stay quiet. I could feel Kerry shaking a little, as well. She had born the brunt of the shocks, and I felt terrible about it. But I knew I couldn't apologize. That was how the cycle of shocks and pain had started, after all.

The door to the basement slammed as Jason returned, setting off the shocks for just a moment. We both jerked simultaneously, and then settled as the pain subsided.

"Well, I wanted to have a bit of fun with you two. Not that it wasn't fun watching you fuck each other, but I think I want to try my hand, so to speak." Jason had returned with a vibrator. I looked at it with suspicion as he knelt before me and turned it on. It hummed with a quiet, high quality buzz that always turned me on; I used it frequently and the sound was associated with pleasure and orgasms.

Jason pushed the vibrator between my legs, pressing hard. It pushed against my pussy, and while it didn't reach my clit, the secondary vibrations through my flesh stimulated me. I opened my mouth into a wide "OH", and stopped myself just in time. I couldn't make any noise.

Jason knew just how to get me going, where to touch and push, how to manipulate the vibrator and my naked flesh. It was all I could do to stifle my whimpering. I clenched my fists as my arousal built, refusing to let out one peep. Kerry would not be shocked again because of me. The orgasm was slow in coming; I had already cum twice that day but I am totally multi-orgasmic and frankly, it is easier for me to orgasm while tied tightly. My hips thrust slightly against the vibration and I shuddered, clenching my jaw to keep from crying out from the waves of pleasure.

When it was over Jason turned the vibrator off and stood. I gasped with relief, and I felt Kerry tense slightly. I couldn't tell whether she had received a small shock or if the sound I made frightened her.

Slowly, Jason slid his hands over my body and breasts, feeling my heaving chest as my breathing slowed from the recent climax. He then moved around to Kerry. The sound of the vibrator resumed, and I could tell from the way her body tensed and pressed back against mine, she was being stimulated in the same way as I had been. I tensed, hoping she would be able to hold back from making a noise, but not counting on it.

This was true torture, waiting, not knowing if the shock would come, dreading it, feeling Kerry behind me breathing heavier and heavier as her own orgasm approached. Finally, she let out a whimper; I tensed expecting the jolt in my nipples. Nothing happened; it had not been loud enough. I relaxed just in time for her to make a slight gagging noise and my nipples exploded in white hot slicing pain that seemed to fill my breasts like acid milk.

Yeah, I yelped. It was so unexpected I yelped and that hit Kerry with a shock. Interesting thing was, the shock appeared to coincide with her orgasm, and didn't stop it. Kerry, it turns out, is a bit of a pain slut. The pain wasn't exactly fun for her, but in the right circumstances it enhanced sensations and sent her over the edge, emotionally and sexually. She shook and twitched behind me as she climaxed, but she didn't make any more noise. I was grateful.

When it was over, Jason left us wired up and tied to the post, and left the basement. We simply stood, tied to each other, back to back, unable to talk or share. Somehow, the feeling of Kerry's naked warm flesh against mine was a comfort, even in this uncomfortable and painful situation.

That evening Jason came downstairs and unstrapped the clamps and electrodes from our nipples. I find it amazing how the pain of a nipple clamp when first applied seems to fade nothing or a dull ache, but when it is removed the pain returns in a rush, worse than ever. I gasped, and I heard Kerry cry out when she was unhooked from the electrostim device.

We were both sweaty and soiled; we had been in captivity for hours down in the basement and it was hot. I must also admit that during that time both Kerry and I had had no choice but to relieve ourselves onto the concrete floor before. It was humiliating, but there simply was no choice. So Jason took a hose and washed us down, thoroughly, while we were still tied there in the center of the room. This is an unpleasant process, though not painful. Water gets up my nose and in my mouth and eyes, and the temperature isn't always the best. But it was good to get clean and I like it when Jason cleans me.

Jason released us from our bondage tied to each other back to back, and turned us to face each other. He then produced a new toy I had never seen before. It was a ball gag. He put it on me, strapping it tightly in place. But the gag had two sets of straps; he guided Kerry's face close to mine and forced her mouth over the same gag, using the second set of straps to close her mouth around the same gag that was in my own mouth. The result? A forced kiss. A gagged kiss. Our lips touched, pressed, but the gag was firmly in my mouth. Our faces were at an angle. It was the oddest sensation.

It was wonderful essentially kissing Kerry, something I deeply desired. But this wasn't quite a kiss. Our faces were almost smashed together, not quite. Jason left us this way for a while, our hands cuffed behind our backs, faces pressed against each other. I relaxed and actually melted into Kerry after a while, But, in spite of my passion for Kerry, I have to say the whole thing wasn't exactly romantic. Especially while Jason sat and watched us, slowly masturbating.

Late that evening the dual strap gag was removed and Jason secured us for the evening while he went to bed. We lay on the concrete floor, naked, a bowl of food and water left out for us.

The rest of the night was heaven, as far as I was concerned. To be naked and restrained next to my lesbian lover was a delight. We talked, caressed each other, made sure we were well after the punishment, and then fell to touching and exploring each other's bodies. We made love, fell asleep on the floor, and woke in the early morning hours and made love lazily once again. Our chains, while preventing us from moving far, did not prevent us from intertwining our legs, rubbing pussies, kissing, pressing our breasts together, suckling one another, and discovering any number of other ways to give and receive sexual pleasure.

When we tired we lay in each other's arms once again, and talked. Kerry told me of her life with her own master (his name is Rob, and seems to be a somewhat harsher owner than my own Jason), and her long periods as a human pony. Her owner is wealthy and they traveled frequently, sometimes visiting exotic resorts, and sometimes spending time in remote enclaves where women were treated as slaves in large compounds. I had never heard of this, but then, Jason and I were not wealthy. Our combined incomes make us well off and we have plenty of money to satisfy our needs and wants, but we can't afford the kind of travel and luxury that Rob and Kerry are used to experiencing.

We feel asleep once again and slept well in each other's arms until noise from upstairs woke us. Jason had greeted a guest and they sounded like they were about to come into the basement.

"That's my owner, Rob. Be careful around him, he has a temper." Kerry warned me as we stood. The basement door opened and Jason led the way, followed by a tall, handsome guy with a rugged face. I recognized him from the Pony farm.

"Greetings, slaves." Rob's stern voice barked out and I felt a chill run through my body. "Jason informs me you both have been punished for the last 24 hours, but I would like to assure myself that both of you receive the kind of punishment I would deliver. Jason's methods are... more subtle than mine."

At this Jason took me and Rob took Kerry, unchaining us. My eyes focused on the floor, unable to look at Jason. I was scared, but trusted him.

Jason led me to a wooden rail on the side of the room and bent me over it. The rail dug into my stomach as Jason pulled my arms down and strapped them to rings on the other side. Rob was doing the same with Kerry, just a couple of feet away from me.

My ankles were tied apart, settling my stomach even harder into the rail. I was stuck in the position, bent over with my ass and cunt exposed. One of two things was going to happen; I had little doubt I was in for one nasty spanking or ass whipping. Whether it was followed by a serious fucking, I didn't know. I supposed it didn't matter. It was up to Jason. There was nothing I could do now anyway, tied and unable to move.

From the corner of my eye I could see Kerry in the same position, her beautiful breasts dangling down as she waited.

The first strikes were stinging strokes from a cane. I've always been amazed at how much a cane can hurt; they are such small flimsy things, but that is part of what makes them wicked. The thin, hard snap of material across flesh creates a sharp stinging sensation that doesn't go away, it builds and gets worse with each stroke. I grunted and began to cry a bit from the pain as the caning proceeded. Kerry was crying quietly next to me.

Twenty strokes. Unless you have been caned you have no idea how much that hurts. It turns from a stinging into a burning, spreading deeper and wider than the actual area where the cane leaves its mark. My entire ass felt like it was on fire. I couldn't see it but was absolutely certain I was covered with angry red welts.

I was untied and saw Rob untying Kerry. Her ass looked horrible, and her beautiful face was streaked with tears. She looked at the floor, unable or unwilling to look at me or her owner. She stood crying, waiting for directions.

"Go upstairs and get dressed girls. The punishment is over. I think you have learned your lesson." Rob sounded a little kinder now, but I still was glad I was owned by Jason. I had chosen Jason and given myself to him, and never regretted that decision.

Later in the day Jason and I said goodbye to Kerry and Rob. Kerry was recovered and once dressed, she appeared an amazing, composed, sexy professional woman. No one would know she had spent the weekend being tortured in a dungeon basement.

That evening I lay in Jason's arms, quietly enjoying being with him. "Jason, thank you."

"For what, my love?"

"For what you did for Kerry and I. I know you punished us, but you also gave us a wonderful gift of time and intimacy together. I know you. I know that was intentional."

Jason smiled. "Yeah... you really did deserve to be punished, but I figured Rob would take care of that. I'm mostly a softy and really do understand your feelings for Kerry. Maybe we can get together with them sometime."

The thought thrilled me. I snuggled closer to my man, my husband, my owner and master, and began to doze off, completely at peace.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Center of Attention

I stood as best I could in the center of the room. It wasn't uncomfortable (yet), but it took some effort to balance on the ballet boots.

I swear, it is amazing to me how many different ways humanity comes up with to torture and humiliate women. High heels is one of them, and excessively high heels are just... awful. To think there are some women that learn to walk on their toes for the pleasure of men, and call it art.

These boots were custom fitted and made of a soft, supple leather. I was literally on my toes but the 8 inch heel reinforced the stance, making it OK.  It just took concentration to keep my balance.

My naked body felt quite normal; I spend much of my time at home naked or wearing some sort of minimal clothing designed to show off my body or give my owner and husband Jason pleasure. It makes me feel good to wear something small and revealing. It's sexy, sensual, and it gives me immense satisfaction to see how my body arouses him. It actually makes me feel a little powerful to observe him get hard when he sees me.

Jason was having some friends over. I didn't know who or how many; I figured it was one of our neighbors. The couple next door are also in a D/s relationship (though it is F/m). Across the street is a couple that is curious and we've been open with, even engaged in a little swinging play. I really like Diane and love to play with her.

So I stood in the middle of the living room, as instructed, wearing nothing but the tightly laced ballet boots, waiting. Jason entered with my best armbinder (we have three), the one that is softest inside but laces quite tightly in the back. It is impossible to get off when put on properly. Just seeing it aroused me a little; yes, I admit I am a bondage slut. I have been since I was... well, early teen years. I placed my arms obediently behind my back, palms facing each other. Jason slid the armbinder up, wriggling it into place. The laces were quite loose to get it on, but once on, Jason began pulling them tight from the bottom (near my wrists). The higher he went, the more the flesh of my arms was pressed together until the bones of my elbows touched and pressed.

This wasn't new. I had worn the binder many times before. It gave Jason pleasure for me to be in it. He said I looked sexy in it, and I felt sexy. When tightened all the way my arms and even shoulders were pulled back, stretching the skin of my chest and thrusting my breasts out rather salaciously.

Jason tightened the laces to the top just above my elbows, and then began another round of tightening from the bottom. Once the laces are pulled tight, slack at the bottom appears and needs to be pulled out until the monoglove fits like a second skin.

When he was done, I waited patiently in the middle of the living room, wondering what would come next.

What came next was my panties, which I had removed earlier.

"Open your mouth, dear," Jason ordered. I did as requested and he pushed the soft cloth into my mouth until it was filled. The cotton is uncomfortable; it absorbs the moisture in my mouth, and makes it feel dry. Of course, the stimulation of the gag also makes more saliva and consequently drool, so it is a combination that is not a lot of fun, though not painful. The other thing about pantie gags (or any gag that fills the mouth) is that it does a pretty good job of silencing me. I can make muffled grunts, but there will be no screaming or begging, so wearing a gag like that can be disconcerting. It made me nervous.

Jason wrapped clear packing tape over my lips, around my cheek and the back of my head and kept going. After several circles around my head and face, the pantie gag was secured in place and I no longer had the ability to talk or make noise.

The ballet bondage boots also served to hobble me rather nicely; I can't run and frankly, can't even walk much at all in those things. So, between the boots, the armbinder and the gag, I was pretty much immobile and waiting my master's command.

The next item was a simple hood. This upset me as well. I've worn it before and it is miserable. Made of a relatively tight fitting heavy cloth, it slips over the top of my head and is tied around my neck. It can be laced tight so the material conforms to the shape of my head.  Problem is, there are no holes in the hood except for two very small ones just over my nostrils. It effectively blinds me and muffles my hearing. Breathing is OK though not great, but otherwise I am isolated in my own world of darkness.

I whimpered slightly as the hood descended over my face and I saw light for the last time in a while. The strap at the bottom was tightened around my throat, not choking me but tight enough the hood would not come off. The laces in the back pulled and the cloth squeezed against my face like a second skin.

My world had collapsed into a dark, muffled place where I could not see, hear or move. I was vulnerable, exposed, and with the addition of the gag I felt even more helpless. I think I might have whimpered a bit more. With my senses restricted like that, I felt even more naked than ever.

Jason's hand stroked the bare flesh of my lower back, traveling down across my ass.

The last touch of my bondage arrived. A pull on the hood announced that a rope or some other restraint had been fastened to the ring that was secured as part of the hood at the top of my head. It yanked upward slightly putting pressure on my neck and chin. I was now forced to stand straight up, unable to walk away even if the ballet boots had allowed it.

Silence. Emptiness. I stood, knowing I was in the living room of my own house, but unable to move. My feet hurt, my upper arms and shoulders ached slightly. I breathed slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.  I have no idea how long it was that I stood there waiting; perhaps 15 minutes. Maybe a half hour. Not more than an hour. It felt like an eternity, simply standing on my toes, naked, waiting.

In the distance I heard the doorbell ring. The door opened and there were voices. Jason's, and another man's. A guest had arrived. Inside my dark prison I panicked. I was naked, restrained in a forced standing position in my living room, and a guest had arrived that I could not see or hear. My breathing became more rapid. I tried to listen for clues. Who was there?

As Jason came into the living room I heard the other man's voice more clearly. It was Steve, the neighbor from across the street. I calmed a little. Steve had played with us before, I had been naked in his presence before. Jason and Steve talked for a while then the doorbell rang again.

Another guest. The man's voice was not familiar. Jason now had two guests over, both standing in the living room, probably surveying my naked and tied body. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The muscles of my shoulders and back writhed a bit in an instinctual attempt to get free, something I knew intellectually was useless. I was bound tightly enough I could hardly move except to shuffle my feet and slide my hips around a bit. Finally, I simply stood, though I think I was breathing hard.

Breathing hard means my chest and breasts were moving up and down. I became aware of my body and how it must look to the three men in the room. My leg muscles were tight and drawn because of the ballet bondage boots. My breasts jutted out obscenely because of the armbinder. My stomach was stretched and concave because of how the hood drew me toward the ceiling. My breast were heaving up and down.

The doorbell rang yet again.  A third guest. It was another voice I didn't recognize, another of Jason's male friends. He was having a gathering of his friends, and I was the centerpiece, the decoration. Tears welled up in my eyes and did their best to trickle down my cheeks between my skin and the hood's material. There was nothing to do but endure.

After the last guest arrived there were a total of six men in the living room. I stood still except for the occasional shift of my feet to maintain my balance.

The TV went on. It was the football game. The men were probably drinking beer and watching football as I stood naked and on display for them.  How long would I be like this? It had probably been an hour.... how long is a football game?  Two hours? Three? I didn't know if I would be able to make it. Not that I had a choice.

The game went on as I stood in darkness. Once, the men let out a loud shout, a whoooop of joy. Their team had scored. My legs hurt, aching from the strain of standing in the bondage boots. During the first hour I flushed periodically; I could feel my skin burn red as the humiliation of my situation overwhelmed me. But I was helpless. I did the only thing I could, stand there and wait.  And endure.

My armbinder is comfortable in that the leather is soft and there are no irritating seams or ridges that will dig into my flesh over time. It still clamps my arms behind my back as it is designed to do, and that can grow quite tiring after a while. By halftime my shoulders cramped.

Halftime brought new humiliation. My naked body was touched. I knew Jason's touch; his hands and fingers are familiar to me as if they are my own. Other hands touched me, at first stroking my bare stomach and back. Multiple hands. I knew there were six men in the room, so there were a maximum of 12 hands that could be fondling my naked body. At one point it felt like all 12 hands were touching me in some way.

My nipples were pinched and breasts cupped and raised from behind. I flushed because the pinching aroused me, my nipples growing hard. It was humiliating to let these strangers know what a bondage slut I was, but there was no choice. I guess that was the point.

Hands groped across my back, over my shoulders and around my neck. Lips attached themselves to my nipples and sucked. Two men, one on each breast, suckled my erect nipples while others gently felt between my legs. My upper thighs were explore, my ass was cupped and spread wide.

Tears streamed down my face inside the hood. Strangers were groping me, exploring my body. Most horribly, my body was reacting to them, I could feel myself becoming wet and aroused. I hope that no one would touch me there...  and then someone did. No penetration, but someone slid their hand over my pussy lips. Yes, there was no disguising it now. They knew I was wet.

During this whole experience not one person actually penetrated my body. Yes, they felt every exposed surface, touching my legs, thighs, ass, stomach, breasts, neck, shoulders, back, and even the outside of my pussy. But not one finger slipped inside. I knew Jason was there watching and had given strict instructions I was not to be violated in that way.

Halftime was over and the guys went back to the game. It was a relief, though I was left alone to suffer, standing in the room with my legs and shoulders aching. I tried sinking down, putting more of my weight on the hood and the ring that held me upright. That resulted in the strap pressing harder on my neck and choking me, so I stood up again.

The classic predicament torture. Stand, and my leg muscles burned from the strain. Sink down and my neck would be compressed and choked. One way or another I was fucked. It reminded me of riding the wooden pony, where I could rock forward, and endure the pain on my mons pubis and pelvis, or rock backward and endure pain on my vagina and ass or even tailbone. Back and forth.

Thus I rocked up and down slowly, hanging by my neck until I needed to breathe then standing once again, remaining their until my legs burned enough and I could sink down once again and let my neck support my weight.

Finally the game was over. I could hear the guys chattering with Jason, presumably telling him how much they had enjoyed the game and the halftime entertainment. I stood, knowing they were giving me final, longing glances. I was probably the best female body they had ever touched, and perhaps ever would touch. The thought didn't really help much. I mentally begged for them to leave.

When the door closed the last time and Jason undid the rope that held me suspended, I collapsed to the floor. He removed the hood and then the tape that held my gag in place. The panties were removed and I gasped for air, breathing deep lung fulls. My face was a mess, of course, from the tears and compression of the cloth hood. He undid the ballet boots next, and finally the armbinder.

My body arms and legs didn't work right for several hours after the ordeal, which was OK. Jason took me on the floor just then, rolling me onto my back and fucking me hard the way he does when I have pleased him with my suffering. I lay on my back, legs spread, and let him come inside me, twice, before he helped me upstairs to bed.

I was happy to have served him well and pleased him so much.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Riding the Rope

I think I've written about the wooden pony and how much I hate it. My hatred of that particular punishment and torture comes from the fact it just seems to go on and on, wearing me down. My suffering is on display, and I simply can't not wriggle and rock back and forth, providing amusement to those who might be watching. The constant need to try and find some position to relieve the discomfort, along with the complete inability to get more than a few seconds of relief, combine to make a pony ride something I dread.

That said, it also has become one of Jason's favorite activities. He calls it a form of predicament bondage, because the discomfort is constant and while I can move to try and relieve it, that simply moves the discomfort to some other spot.

While on the pony, the normal position rests the majority of my weight directly on the soft flesh of my pussy. When I first start the ride, it isn't terrible, it is uncomfortable but bearable. But as time goes on the pain grows, the aching increases, the digging of harsh corners into my flesh makes moving inevitable.

And so I rock back; with ankles pinioned up off the floor or with weights dragging them down, it is the only thing I can do. Rocking back shifts the weight from my pussy and onto my ass. Depending on the pony, the wood will spread my ass cheeks wide, or press deep into my anus. Regardless, leaning back onto my ass relieves the pain in my pussy (at least most of it), and feels better for a while.

The position of leaning back is more difficult; my back and stomach muscles will cramp quickly and of course, my ass will hurt. The wood presses into the flesh of my buttocks and between my legs as much as on my pussy, and will finally be enough to force me to rock forward. There is also a limit to how far back I can rock, because my arms are usually tied behind me, and up in a semi-strappado. Leaning back just aggravates the discomfort in my shoulders by raising my arms higher.

But my pussy will still be sore; bruised from sitting on the hard wood, and so I will continue to rock forward, leaning my hips until the wood of the pony presses the front of my pussy, and higher into my groin and pelvis. I usually can't hold this position for long; while my stomach, shoulders and back like it, my pubic bone presses against my flesh and smashes it, causing pain to grow fast. Plus, this tends to smash my clit directly, an unpleasant experience, though if I want to wriggle a bit I can actually get rather aroused. Jason loves to watch me do this, because he can see my nipples grow hard while I am moaning from pain.

So, rather quickly, I will rock back onto my pussy.

And so on.  As time and the torture goes on, I get progressively more desperate for a good position. My rocking and wriggling happens faster. I have even tried rocking back and forth as fast as I can go continuously, but it doesn't help. There comes a point where it no longer matters where I am positioned, it hurts. At that point I begin to lose my mind, and cry.

Sometimes during punishment and torture the smallest things can make a difference. One thing I find important and is a kindness that Jason sometimes will do for me, is to put my hair in a pony tail. While riding the pony I inevitably sweat, and my face will be moist. When I rock the hair sticks to the skin of my face and gets very annoying. With my hands bound behind me I can't brush it out of the way. Having my hair in a pony actually helps quite a bit.

Throughout this process I am on display. Jason loves to watch me suffer in this manner, and has even invited a neighbor over to view the process. I rock, and moan, and show my breasts hanging forward and my nipples hardening, and slowly become more desperate, all the while being watched, my discomfort the pleasure of others.  It is, to put it bluntly, humiliating. It's part of the punishment.

When I rode the rope for the first time, I thought it would be better, and in some ways it was. What I did to be punished isn't relevant; I had embarrassed Jason in public and deserved to be punished. I accepted this. Perhaps deep in my subconscious I had misbehaved because I wished to be punished. I leave this to others.

For this punishment Jason had invited our neighbors to come observe. We play with our neighbors at times. The couple next door is in a rather strict femdom relationship, and the couple across the street is very fluid in their willingness to try new things when it comes to fetishes.

I came into the garage area that is filled with some of Jason's more elaborate toys, collared and led by a leash. Our neighbors sat or stood casually watching as Jason ordered me to undress.  I unbuttoned my blouse, revealing my C cup breasts in my bra. I was wearing a skirt, which I slipped off, exposing my panties. Shoes were easy.  Stripping in this manner is easy for me, especially in front of my neighbors; they have seen me naked before and I sort of enjoy the attention. I especially like Diane, a voluptuous blond in her early 30s. One day I hope to find a reason to spend some real intimate time with her.

"Remove your bra and panties," Jason instructed. My bra unhooked, releasing my breasts which sagged only a bit. My breasts are still quite firm. The final article of clothing was my panties, which slid off easily. In doing so, I raised my leg, very aware that I was exposing my pussy to full view. I blushed just a bit then stood with my hands to my sides. My natural tendency to cover myself out of modesty was suppressed as disobedient. My body is Jason's, and I must not cover myself in front of him.

"Stand here, in the middle, legs apart."

I did as instructed, not knowing what was to happen. The neighbors sipped wine I had served them when they had arrived.

Jason took my wrists behind me and tied them together quickly and easily (he is fantastic at fast and secure rope work). I heard him rummaging behind me and then felt him take my tied wrists and thread something between them, just above where they were tied. It was another rope, which he then threaded from where it crossed my wrists down between my legs. Sliding the excess slack from the rope, it slid between my thighs, arousing me a little.

Who am I trying to kid. The whole process was turning me on. I am a bit of an exhibitionist. I admit it.

When the slack in the rope was pulled through, it pressed tightly up into the crack of my pussy. I let out a soft "oh..." of surprise and slight discomfort as Jason walked to the other side of the garage, pulling the rope up tight as he went. The rope pressed harder into my pussy, increasingly uncomfortable. Reaching the other end of the garage space, Jason reached the rope up to an eye ring in the wall at about chest height, threaded the rope through and pulled it tight, clamping it in place.

"Owwwww," I couldn't help grunting. The rope jerked deep into my soft flesh, actually sliding deep enough that I could feel it slide against my vagina walls. My wrists tied in the back pulled the rope up through my ass crack, completing the impalement. I lifted up on my toes, trying to relieve the pressure a bit.

"Good girl. I like to see you on your toes. I always makes your calves look so beautiful." Jason was pleased but I was uncomfortable. Not seriously in pain, but definitely not happy.

Erin and Jim stood and came over to where they could observe my roped and spread labia clearly. Examining me, Erin exclaimed that she loved this bondage position, and wondered what Jim might look like riding a rope. Jim turned pale at this but said nothing.

"Now, Siobhan. You can be released from riding the rope at any time. You simply have to make your way to where the rope is clamped, and unclamp it. There, on the wall. On the other side of the garage." Jason pointed to where he had just fasted the rope.

I contemplated the predicament. Jason wasn't about to let me out of this easily, and I began to see the problem. I would have to walk about 20 feet with the rope sliding through my pussy. Ouch. Like, really ouch.

As I looked closer, I saw the rope had knots tied in it. About every foot or so was a nice, nasty knot, ready to bite into my pussy and tear the sensitive flesh. Just.... ouch. Thanks to the rope being threaded through my arms above my wrists, the knots would also slide between my ass cheeks, giving me a nice buggering. I sighed and began to walk.

I started slowly and immediately stopped. The rope was a lot tighter than I thought, and really hurt as I slid across it. As if to underscore my discovery, Diane came over, examining my ass, and said, "That must really scrape and hurt."

"Yes. It does!" I rolled my eyes and took another step. The rope pulled through my labia, up between my ass cheeks and past my arms behind me.

Another step and I felt the first knot touch the front of my pussy. Stopping for a moment and gathering my determination, I breathed and stepped forward. The knot pressed against my clit really hard, slid over the hardness of my pubic bone and rested in my vagina.

"Ah!" I sort of grunted. Pushing forward against, the knot slid over my perineum and smashed into my anus as if demanding in. "Oh, shit," I moaned involuntarily.

Jason laughed at the irony of that statement as I proceeded forward and the now slightly wet and slimy knot slid over the ropes tying my wrists and was left behind.

My calves were giving out and I had to lower myself onto my flat feet. It didn't actually make the discomfort from the rope much worse, because it stretched slightly.

I leaned back this time, trying to lower my wrists and thus reduce the pull on the rope between my ass cheeks. It worked a little, though it was a bit humiliating for I was thrusting my hips and pubic area out and both Jim and Steve thought that was especially fun. Nevertheless I pushed forward, the foot of rope sliding through my flesh until the next knot slid past my clit and into my vagina, and then lodged nicely in my anus before sliding past and out.

"Oooowwwww.... damnit!" I grunted. This one had felt worse than the last.  I pushed forward, knowing I would have to endure the scraping at some point. Might as well get it over with.

My labia was feeling hot, no doubt because it was beginning to swell and inflame from the irritation. It was also growing more sensitive. I felt something trickling down my leg, and wondered if it was blood or just sweat. Probably just sweat. It was warm, but the pain of punishment usually makes me sweat. Going past the next knot was enough and I stopped for a moment.

"Erin. I think Siobhan is having trouble motivating herself to reach the end of her rope. Do you think you can help?" Jason talked sweetly, but his meaning was clear. Moments later I felt a sharp stinging slap on my ass where Erin had used a riding crop. I yelp just a bit and moved forward. Each time I slowed, Erin would strike my ass or boobs with the crop.  Erin is really a dominant woman. I feel sorry for Jim sometimes, though I am thoroughly submissive to Jason and should understand his situation.

Dragging along, I realized the pain and discomfort of the rope was getting worse. It wasn't just because I was becoming swollen and sensitive (which I was), it was also because as I got closer to where the rope reached the wall, it rose up toward the ring. The pressure on my pussy increased, driving, cutting deeply into my crack. I literally began to feel like I was being fucked by that rope, but I kept going.  I had to.

As I got close to the wall, the rope rose sharply up, cutting and dragging hard against my clit; it also pressed deep between my legs and up between my ass cheeks. I leaned back as far as I could, trying to get the right angle to relieve the pressure, and get closer, but finally I felt I had gotten as close as I could.

I was faced with a predicament. Jason had instructed that I release the clamp that held the rope in place on the wall, but that clamp was in the wall in front of me. My wrists were tied behind my back, unable to reach forward to unclamp it. I turned to Jason.

"Jason, please sir, may I have my arms freed so that I may unclamp the rope?" I asked as politely and calmly as I could, respectful, though tears were welling up in my eyes.

"No, Siobhan. I know it will be difficult, but you need to get the clamp yourself."

My heart sank. The tears came for real now, trickling down my face. How on earth was I supposed to get around and reach the clamp? I stood staring, the flesh between my legs throbbing slightly. My calves were cramping, I had been up on my toes for so long. The neighbors were still there, watching, enjoying my suffering in this predicament, but I had virtually forgotten them.

Finally, I took a deep breath and did what I knew I had to do. Slowly, I began to turn my body so that my shoulders shifted and arms came around toward the wall. As I did so, the rope twisted across my genitals and pressed against my thighs. It was so tight it was almost impossible to move, but somehow I did it. Straining, pressing, pushing, I rose even higher on my toes, sobbing from the pain in my legs. Lifting my hands higher pulled the rope even tighter, and I thought for a moment I would lose my balance.

"AAAAAGGGHHHH!!!" I screamed when I sank back down onto the rope, my first attempt at grabbing the clamp unsuccessful. My feet went flat on the floor, my pussy taking almost all the weight of my body on the rope. I lifted off again, twisting, pulling, maneuvering in spite of the blood that was being cut off from my aching legs because of the rope twisting around my thighs, straining my back to get my arms around, leaning forward as much as I could to get my hands higher behind me, and finally my fingers felt the metal latch.

I grabbed the latch to keep from losing my grip on it, and pulled.  The rope suddenly released, falling down to the floor. I followed it, collapsing in sweet relief. It was over. I sobbed on the floor as my audience applauded.

My labia, vagina, rectum, and perineum were all bruised and raw with abrasions. I couldn't sit for the next 24 hours, and simply lay on my back naked with my legs spread. Jason applied some soothing salve which made the area feel a lot better.

Riding the rope was a bad punishment. I am not sure which is worse, the wooden pony or the rope. I suppose whichever one I am enduring at the moment is worse.