Friday, October 21, 2016

Four Days Training, Part 2

The next day was Friday. Another work day.

Mistress Erin woke me early from where I slept on the floor. "Clean the kitchen floor before you go to work," she barked at me, then headed to the bathroom to get ready for work.

"Mistress, may I pee first?" I asked politely.

"No." She said simply, and continued dressing.

That was it. I really needed to pee, but I had not received permission. I had a task to perform. At least I wasn't tied up. I had relative freedom to perform my duties.

Even so, my wrists and ankles were shackled, so movement was somewhat limited. I crawled naked into the kitchen, got a rag and some cleaner and began scrubbing.

Jim, Erin's slave husband came in and walked on the floor when I was nearly done. He left large dirty prints on the floor. I looked up at him with anger. "Hey!"

"Siobhan, right now you are at the bottom of the totem pole. Sorry, girl." I could tell he wasn't sorry at all. He liked seeing me naked, on my hands and knees. In fact, he was glad Erin was paying attention to me instead of him.

When I finished cleaning the floor, Erin demanded I fix breakfast for her and Jim. I did this quickly, for I needed to pee badly. My bladder was literally hurting, it was so full. I was also going to be late for my own work, if Erin didn't release me soon.

When breakfast was over (I didn't get any, I just served), Erin and Jim left.

"Please, Mistress. May I pee now?"

Erin nodded. "Yes, go pee, but present yourself for inspection afterward."

I ran into the bathroom. Unfortunately, the running, combined with how badly I needed to go--- well, I leaked. I sprayed some urine on the floor.

Peed into the toilet. What a relief! I would have been in massive trouble if I had lost control when in the kitchen in from of Mistress.

Except Mistress came into the bathroom for inspection. I stood and took the inspection position I had been taught earlier. Erin came in and.... stepped right into the puddle of pee I had left.

Her face got red, but she didn't do anything. She simply told me to spread my legs slightly. The day before she had made me wear nipple clamps to work. Small clamps that smashed my nipples painfully the entire day.

This day, I was given a pussy clamp with a small bell hanging from it. The clamp was quite tight and hurt a lot going on. In fact, I wondered if it would pierce a hole in my labia.

"We will attend to punishment for ... this..." she waved at the urine on the floor, "this evening. In the mean time, wear the labia bell all day. I will know if you take it off. Clean up the bathroom floor before you leave."

And with that, Erin was gone to work. I was alone.

I set about cleaning the bathroom floor. I cried some while I scrubbed. It had been a rough morning, a painful one, and I had failed. I would be punished that evening for my failure.

Not only was I humiliated, I was scared. I didn't know what being punished by Erin would be like. A whipping? Riding a wooden pony? The worst thing I could think of was when Jason used capsaicin on my freshly shaved cunt. I had sobbed in pain from that. Oh, I hoped she wouldn't do anything like that.

I stood and my labia bell tinkled. I would have to be careful at work. The clamp on my labia hurt, but I knew that with time it would subside to an ache, and not hurt much. Until it came off, that is.

With both Erin and her husband gone to work I showered, dressed, and put on my face for work. I was late. I am seldom late for work, but the debacle at Erin's had made me late. Of course, I couldn't explain to anyone at work that I was late because I had been forced to clean my next door neighbor's floor naked on my hands and knees, and then had peed on her bathroom floor and had to clean that up as well.

It was actually sort of hot, arousing, to think of that as I sat in the first meeting of the day. I wondered what some of the guys around the table would think if they knew what was happening to me at home. I got wet between my legs.

That was compounded when I tinkled. No, not peed, but actually made a tinkling noise. My cunt bell had rung. Everyone in the meeting looked around.

"Sorry. Text message," I said, pretending it was my phone.

For the rest of the day I sat still, and when I did move I kept my legs together, to hold the bell in place. I thought of Erin, and going home to her domination, the entire day. Thanks to that damn bell it was about all I could think about.

Because I was late to work, I got home a little late. Entering the house, Jim greeted me. He was naked and in chastity, as he frequently was. "Erin says for you to get undressed and report to her in her office."

He had a sad look on his face. "I think she is sort of.... angry."

Uh oh. Erin was not a loving, caring master like Jason. She was a stern, iron fisted ruler. I undressed and reported to her. I knelt with head down. "I am here, Mistress Erin."

She was working at her desk, so I simply remained kneeling, waiting for her. Finally she turned her desk chair toward me and looked down with a look of pained dissatisfaction.

"The incident this morning must be punished. Urinating on the floor? Are you kidding, Siobhan? Do I have a dog, a pet here? And now, returning home late. Another transgression."

I was silent, knowing nothing I could say would help.

"Follow me," she rose and headed out the door. She was clothed, of course, I was naked. As was her male slave. "Follow us," she told Jim.

We went into the garage. It was a little cold there and I shivered, crossing my arms in front of me.

"You'll be plenty warm soon enough." Erin pointed me to a corner where there was a thin blanket covering the hard concrete. "Kneel, facing the wall."

I knelt.

"Fasten her." She said. Jim took some leather cuffs and clipped my wrists to each other, and then raised them above my head. There he clipped them to a chain. Erin grabbed the chain and pulled it swiftly but evenly so my arms were above my head.  I was still kneeling, but raised up on my knees, facing the wall.

There was no announcement when the flogging began. I couldn't see who was doing it to me, but I assume it was Erin. I gasped during the first two or three strokes, and cried out.

"Don't make me gag you. I don't want the neighbors to hear." snapped Erin. I like being gagged, it gives me something to bite into when I am being whipped, but I also understood that if Erin had to gag me it was likely to have more unpleasant consequences.

I closed my mouth and just took the flogging, grunting slightly as the flogger stung my back.

I've been flogged plenty of times. This one didn't hurt to badly, though being forced to kneel and look at a wall during the flogging, and not being allowed to make a noise, that did give it a certain... flavor.

After perhaps 20 or 30 strokes of the lash Erin stopped, and said, "that's for being late."

Whoa. She hadn't even begun the punishment for my peeing on the floor. I was in deep shit.

I was unhooked.

"Time for you to fix us dinner." Erin led me back into the kitchen. My back and ass were burning from the whipping, but it wasn't too bad. It sort of made me feel naked, though. You know how sometimes, something happens that just emphasizes your nakedness and vulnerability?

Jim has seen me naked before, but I don't think I have ever paraded around before him this much without a bit of clothing.

Before I could make dinner, a special little gift was applied.

Erin braided my hair into a quick knot behind my head, but wrapped a thin cord with the hair, tying it off firmly. The cord was then tied to an ass hook. The cord was too short. My head was jerked back until the ass hook would slide into my ass... it hurt, it was forced.

Then they let go of my head. It naturally moved forward, which pulled the hair forward which in turn pulled the ass hook up. Deeper into my ass.

I yelped. "Aaagh!" It hurt. The ass hook had a round knob at the end so it wouldn't cut or poke, but still... it was jammed up there tight. It was going to just be a pain in the ass to make dinner in that thing.

Yep. It was. Literally. A pain in the ass.

I worked in the kitchen for an hour. Every time I needed to look down, I pulled hard and impaled my ass. There was a lot I could do with my head raised, and the pressure on my ass relieved (somewhat). But there was a lot that just required that I be bent over backwards to allow my head the ability to look down.

Just, oww. Ass hooks are not new to me. But usually, they are applied during bondage situations where I basically just stay in one position and endure. This was different. The thing kept tugging and rubbing inside my rectum as I moved around and got dinner ready.

I served, too. Erin and Jim. I really was at the bottom of the food chain in her house; even her slave was above me.

I ate leftovers, scraps from their plates that Erin scraped into a dog bowl. It tasted good, actually. It was my cooking, even if it was just the scraps from their plates.

When everything was cleaned up, Erin announced, "It's time for your punishment. For urinating on my floor. Disgusting. Truly disgusting."

Damn. It was her fault, because I told her I needed to pee and she kept saying no! I couldn't hold it any longer. But this is the life of a sub. Get impossible tasks, and when you fail, get punished for it. I... um... actually enjoy it. Just because I complain about how much it hurts, or how difficult it is, doesn't mean it isn't a core need.

For this punishment she took me to the living room and lay me down on my back on a large futon she has. Jim was placed in a corner, naked, facing the wall. This was the same position he had been in when I first arrived.

I wondered how much time he spent there. It seemed like a sort of "storage space" where Erin put him when she didn't want him. She just said, "Corner" in a quiet voice, and bam! There he was, in the corner, facing the wall.

No one ties people up faster or better than Erin. I mean, Jason does a damn good job, but Erin? She has some sort of special dexterity or something. It seemed like seconds before my wrists were tied and secured over my head. There was little support for my head and my ass hung off the edge.

Erin appears over me. She's removed her top and is naked from the waist up. Oh, I would have loved for her to bend over enough for me to reach my head up and suckle one of those breasts... she has gorgeous breasts.  No luck there. Instead she took out a cane.

I really hate canes. They are small, lightweight, and don't seem like much. But wow, they can sting! And when you keep getting whacked in the same place, the sting burns and really hurts. I knew I was in for it. She wasn't going to cane my ass, since it was pointing away from her.

She caned my breasts. Whack-whack-whack-whack-whack-whack-whack... over and over again. Not horribly hard, but with each whack the pain, the stinging burning pain, kept growing and spreading. Pretty soon my boobs felt like they were going to explode in flames.

Tears were trickling down the side of my head, out of the corners of my eyes. I sobbed quietly as Erin  kept whacking away.

After a while I couldn't help but begin struggling. I mean, you try it! Get tied down and have someone cane you constantly for 20 minutes and see if you don't start struggling!

Actually, struggling is part of what I enjoy. It reinforced my helplessness and that there really is nothing, absolutely nothing I can do to get away from that sadistic bitch. It pissed her off though, which is typical.

"So you don't want your tits caned any more? Huh?" She said. Her hand went out and gently fondled my breasts. Her own naked nipples were getting dangerously close to mine. I lifted my head (still crying) and tried to get my lips engaged with her right nipple. I just barely brushed it, and she reacted. Jumping back.

"Oh, no, my little slut. You have not earned the right to taste my body or pleasure me as yet!" She grabbed me and turned me over on the futon. Pushing me forward, my boobs now dangling over the edge and my arms all the way down to the floor. I could see poor Jim still standing silently in the corner, listening to my sobs and the sounds of bamboo slapping against flesh.

My ass really was stuck up in the air, and Erin took full advantage.

The bamboo cane came down on my ass repeatedly, and this time I screamed. Not because it hurt worse, but because I was just worn down. There's just so much torment you can take before you just loose mental strength.

Some people call it subspace. I think my mind is in subspace all the time, but it does get to a stage where the pain is all I can think about, the helplessness of being bound, the inevitability of the next stroke, the man or woman who is standing next to me as my god, the determiner of my future torment...

The punishment for peeing on Erin's floor went on for some time. I don't know exactly. I would guess an hour? Though it was probably less. My boobs and ass were burning and red hot, as if they were criss-crossed with knife cuts.

When she stopped, she left me there, laying on the futon, to cry. It was a while before I realized she had left the room.

I needed to pee again.

I'm sorry, but this happens, you know? Even when you are in the middle of being punished or some great discipline and bondage scene, your bladder just fills up. And mine did. I couldn't move though. She had tied me down, wrists together and those tied to the bottom of the futon. There was nothing I could do except lay there and wait.

When Erin returned, I hesitantly asked. "Mistress Erin, may I please pee?"

Erin said nothing but left. She returned a little later with a plastic bucket. "Go in the bucket," she said as she shoved it under my hips.

She left and went to watch TV for a while.

It was hard to pee in the bucket. Really hard. My body is trained to urinate in a toilet, and folded over on my stomach across a futon just wasn't the right position. But I finally managed to get the stream going and a little while later you could hear the liquid hitting the bottom and splattering as I released my bladder.

It felt so good.  It smelled slightly.

Jim asked politely, "Mistress, may I also pee in the bucket?"

Erin sighed and brought it over to him. "Squat," she said.

He did, he squatted over the thing to get close to it, peed, and then stood in the corner again.  "Thank you Mistress." he said.

I thought Uhoh, I didn't thank her. Damn, she has him trained better than me. No wonder I am having a hard time here. I really am not trained well.

After Erin watched a TV show she came over and fucked me.

Yeah, that's right. She stripped the rest of the way, put on a strapon, and fucked me. I was still tied to the futon and just stayed there, leaned over, with my legs slightly parted. The dildo was large, though not huge.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. I am not a fan of strapons, they don't really excite me sexually, except as a form of punishment. Any form of punishment excites me, of course, and Erin was tormenting me with the strap on. So it did rather excite me.

It actually excited me enough that I had an orgasm. The big rubber thing inserted into my cunt, pushing up all the way inside my body so I felt it jamming against my cervix and bowels... yeah. It was painful, and I got off on it.

"Oh, my god, the little slut has had an orgasm!" declared Erin when she saw me shuddering and breathing heavily with hard nipples and a flushed neck. You can always tell when I have an orgasm because my chest and neck, and my cheeks tend to flush.

She fucked me for about 15 minutes, and I had two orgasms. She laughed and made fun of me after each one. "You little whore! What a slut Jason has raised. Come for me, slut! Let your body flood with those endorphins. I wanna see your eyes roll up inside your head!"

They probably did, too, for just a bit.

She untied me after, and let me and Jim just sort of lounge around the house, though we were kept naked. That was a little awkward, being around Jim, sitting and watching TV, the both of us naked. But then, we were both acting as slaves for Erin, so it was also somewhat natural.

That night I slept on the floor next to their bed again. I was thankful it wasn't the sleep sack. That thing was horrible.

The only problem was that Erin cuffed my hands behind my back and chained them to the end of the bed in a way that kept them at least slightly raised if I was on my stomach, and I simply could not get onto my back. I had to actually sleep partway under the bed in order to get the slack in the chain I needed to be comfortable enough to sleep.

All in all, it had been a good day. Erin is tough, but I am a confirmed submissive and a true masochist... so I enjoyed every minute of it.

And there was still another day before Jason came back.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Four Days Training, Part 1

My relationship with Jason was first founded on love and trust, and as a result of these, I was able to fulfill my deepest sensual and sexual desires by becoming his complete slave.

I've always had a deep need to be dominated. It started long before I dated my first guy or girl, and it has been an underlying need throughout my teen and adult life.  I've been lucky because I've been able to fulfill this need with several partners, and finally settle on one partner, my husband and owner.

That said, we have not been completely monogamous. I would never have sexual relations with anyone other that Jason without his explicit permission. I am owned by him and my body is to be used at his pleasure. But, in certain circumstance, both he and I have engaged in intimate sexual activities with other people.

Because I am owned and his property, he need not ask before engaging in such activities, though he has been very kind in always making sure I was involved in any of his extra-marital sexual encounters. My own sexual interactions with others have been limited to threesome or foursome activities that were directed by, or involved Jason.

The only time I have ever had sex with another person, not Jason, when he was not present, was with an ex-pony girl I knew and fell in love with, and this was with Jason's permission. In fact, he arranged for it. I've not seen this woman since. It was a special gift he gave me. He arranged for the two of us to be together, both in bondage and punishment, but nevertheless we spent a weekend together and our intimacy and physical love was something I will cherish forever.

However, Jason recently turned me over to a neighbor who lives on our street. Her name is Erin. She keeps her husband in strict discipline, chastity and denial, and I've come to respect her as a fairly strict and effective dominatrix. Erin is rigid, demanding, and can be quite cruel. I've seen her poor husband suffering at her hand more than once.

Jason was going on a business trip. Four days away from home. I have my own work as the director of an IT department for a medium sized company.  We have both traveled on occasion, and when Jason is gone or I am gone, I have always taken care to be very faithful, obey all commands and to be an obedient slave wife.

When we are apart, Jason usually leaves me some instructions, or some tasks that are designed to keep my obedience and awareness of my owned status forefront in my mind. This has involved everything from wearing a chastity belt for which only he has the key, to following instructions to kneel and suck a molded rubber model of his dick for 20 minutes each night before going to bed.

This is something he's demanded of me a number of times when he is not present. It comforts him that I am obedient and servicing him even when he is not there. So he had a rubber mold of his genitals made, and made a special practice dildo with it. This way, even when he is not with me, I can such him off.

It's a little embarrassing, but it is also rather hot. Per his instructions, I strip naked, fix the practice dildo to a flat surface, kneel before it, and use my mouth and tongue and throat to pleasure it.  Afterward, he usually gives me permission to masturbate myself to orgasm (if I am not in chastity, of course).

During this last trip, his desire was that I give myself over to Erin, and treat her as my mistress and owner. This would include obeying any commands, including sexual relations or otherwise.

Erin is older than I by perhaps 15 years, but very fit and beautiful. I like and respect her, though we are not close friends. It is hard for a slave to be close friends with a mistress, even someone else's mistress. I won't say I looked forward to being owned by her for four days, but it did intrigue me. I've been dominated by many different people in my life, including women, and each has a very distinct flavor. Erin was going to have her own style, a very strict one, I knew.

My last night with Jason before his trip was marvelous. He handcuffed me after dinner and gave me a light spanking to remember him by, a nice one that made my ass just a little warm and sting, but he also fondled and caressed me in a way that made me feel so ... desirable. We then fucked and snuggled in bed. He is so great with aftercare.  My heart wells up with love when I think of him.

So in the morning he took me over to Erin's house down the street. He had a 10:00 flight, so we arrived at her house about 8, and she took me in.  Jason let her know that I had been briefed but that I was to obey her as if her orders came from Jason. I was hers for the next four days.

Wow, that right there was a rush. I was turned over. I was wearing a collar and leash, something that happens rarely in public but sometimes... and it was on for the ceremony of being transferred to Erin. She took my leash and led me inside and I felt a nervous flood of raw energy and sexual or erotic thrill.

I had no idea what Erin would do with me. Whatever it was, I was committed to allowing it, suffering it, obeying, whatever it took.

Erin kissed Jason on the cheek, then kissed me on the cheek, and said, "Welcome to your new home."

Jason gave me a hug and kiss, said goodbye, and I was in Erin's hand.

The first thing she did was secure my hands behind my back. Every bit of bondage this woman would put me in was exciting and arousing to me, and that small act made me wet, right there. I can't help it. It's the way I have been since I was ten years old, and it's become more intense over the years.

She gagged me as well, with a standard ball gag. I hate and love those. They are great because they hold the mouth open, allow you to bite down on something if you need to, and they make me drool like water faucet. I hate them because they hold my mouth open and make me drool like a faucet.

Erin led me inside the house and the door closed on my husband. I was now in the control of another woman. As we walked in, I saw Jim, Erin's husband, standing in the corner, facing the wall. I didn't know if this was something he was told to do when not otherwise engaged, like a storage position, or if he was being punished in some way.

Erin led me into a small room downstairs. It had probably originally been designed as an office, but it was reworked as a sort of discipline / dungeon, with whips, chains, bondage bracket and other equipment spread around.

"Strip and leave your clothes in that box. You won't need them. Make sure to fold them neatly."

I obeyed, but with a lot of difficulty. My hands were still cuffed behind my back. I managed to get my shoes, skirt and panties off, but my top was stuck. I mumbled through the gag, "I can't get my top off with my hands cuffed." (Ball gags don't actually stop you from talking, they just make it harder.)

Erin brought out a large pair of shears, and cut my top off. It was a good top, and made me sad to see it go. Why would she ruin a good top like that? I watched sadly as the shreds of my top fell to the ground.

By breasts flopped free and that was it. I was naked in front of Erin.

"You must learn to address me correctly. I am Mistress. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and you must always speak respectfully. You will be punished for this infraction."

I knew that. I mean, I should have known that, I have been a slave long enough I should have known to call her mistress and be more obsequious. It was a mistake I would pay for.

"Your first task is to wash the kitchen floor. Because you need to learn how to speak to me properly, you will not have your hands freed and must wash the floor to my satisfaction without them."

Oh great, I thought. How am I going to do this?

We went into the with me crawling on all fours, and Erin leading me by my leash.

"There you go. Clean."

She pointed.

There was no mop, no bucket, no... nothing.

"Please Mistress, may I have a sponge, or a bucket of water?" I said in ball-gag-speech.

"No. You will clean this now as I say. I am not giving you cleaning implements because you need discipline. You are to be punished. Start cleaning now."

I did. I got down on my knees and started licking.

Erin has a big kitchen and I had to cover every inch of it with my tongue. Half way through I politely asked for a drink of water, my tongue was dry and scratchy and tasted terrible. Erin was kind and gave me a drink, and I continued slowly licking my way across the floor, all the while my hands cuffed behind my back.

When I was done, Erin came in and examined the floor. I had actually tried to clean the damn thing with my tongue, which was now rather raw and dry, and tasted like the bottom of a bird cage.

"Acceptable. Come," Erin pulled me into the bathroom by my leash. "Now the toilet."

I looked up at Erin with big, surprised eyes. I had never done anything like this for Jason. We were truly licking into new territory.

"Don't give me those eyes. Do as your are told!" Erin snapped.  She personally supervised as I began licking the toiled seat.

Yep. I licked that entire thing. Starting with the seat, after which she flipped the seat up and I licked out the bowl. It was a relatively clean toilet, so it wasn't too bad. Still, I could really taste urine and some other musky tastes. It was awful. Truly awful.

All the while Erin watched me and at one point grabbed my hair, shoved my face down against the porcelain and demanded that I do a better job.

When I was done I was lead to the living room and told to wait. So I just sort of hung out there, waiting.

This really pissed off Erin. "What the fuck does Jason teach you over there! You don't know how to wait for a command in a waiting position?"

I didn't say anything, there wasn't anything I could say, really. Erin shoved me down on my knees, moving my arms and legs into a proper waiting position.

This turned out to be on my knees, hands folded on my lap, head slightly bowed, back straight.  Erin was very strict in terms of the position I should take, and my posture.

All this while her husband and slave Jim remained standing in the corner. I don't think he had budged in the two hours I had been in the house. He must be getting tired, but he didn't make a noise. Just stood facing the wall.

So I remained off to the side of the living room in the waiting position while Erin went off and did some things. I don't know what she did, I wasn't allowed to look at her, and most of the time I was alone in the room. Except for Jim that is, except he didn't count because he was standing there like he was in some sort of storage.

Eventually Erin left the house. I heard the garage door open and her car started up and left.  I was alone in her house with her husband Jim, who was still standing in the corner.

Since she wasn't around, I decided to talk to Jim.

"Are you in some sort of punishment?"

Jim didn't answer.

"She isn't here, you can at least talk to me," I said to him. He was standing right there, perhaps 10 feet away. I was kneeling on the floor in my submissive posture, but had raised my head to look at him.

"She... I'm not supposed to talk." Jim whispered.

"I see," I said. He had been trained exceptionally well, all the way to performing detailed rituals even when there was no possibility of being discovered if he failed to strictly follow the rules.

I for one was not restrained, and could have gotten up and walked around had I wished to. But something about the way Jim stood in the corner, not moving, and the pristine, spotless house, and Erin's no-compromise attitude... it made me stay in place.

Jim must have been standing in the corner for four hours or more by the time Erin came back. I sneaked looks at him, and it was clear his legs were shaking, threatening to give out. But he kept standing there, motionless.

When Erin came back, she brought in some packages and put them upstairs someplace, except for one she brought in to the living room and set down.

Erin came over and told Jim to assume the waiting position. I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief as he turned around and knelt in the same position as mine.

"It's time for you to learn the proper regimen of positions and slave commands. Jason has very clearly not been training you properly," said Erin.

I had learned the waiting position. I was then taught a variation of the waiting position Erin called "present".

When she barked "present", I went down on my knees, this time spread at a 45 degree angle, with my hands palms up on my thighs. Face down, of course, showing subservience.

Erin used a riding crop on my bare flesh, swatting me hard when my position did not please her. Sitting with my back perfectly straight got me a number of stinging swats which must have left pretty nasty red welts. I needed to learn to sit absolutely straight.

The position of my head was important, as well. I could not bend my head too low because my face was to be visible. But my eyes had to be downcast, so as to show subservience and obedience.

There were several variations of this position, and the details had to be just right. Palms up, or hands folded together, the angle of my legs sufficient to show my genitals clearly, feet touching at the toes in back, and so on. Erin even worked on the expression on my face, which was to be blank, not angry or upset, not happy, just... open and ready and willing. She slapped me a couple of times, hard, for not having the proper expression.

Then there was "Worship". On my knees, bent over all the way with my forehead on the ground. Arms up over my head on the ground, hands flat with fingers slightly spread.  Erin stepped on my hand more than once when my hands were too far apart, or the fingers were not spread properly.

She checked my ass during the process too, and told me I had not kept it clean enough and would require some work later. This sent a chill through me.

The Worship position also had some strict requirements for where the legs were to be positioned and how the feet were to be placed.

We spent the entire day working on positions.

There was the position she called "Corner", which was what Jim had been in when I arrived. I was standing facing the corner, straight back, kneels locked, head up, staring directly into the corner. Arms were to be raised and hands placed on opposite shoulders.

 We practiced that one for an hour. I don't know how Jim held it for four, I would have collapsed.

Then there was the "Ready" position. Also on the knees, but raised up to my ass wasn't sitting on my feet. Hands were placed behind the back, head up and looking straight ahead so I could see whatever instructions were being given. Knees were supposed to be apart, directly under the shoulders. The insides of my thighs were red and stinging from the riding crop as Erin taught me this position.

The "Ready" position was used when commands were being given that required attention and action.

The "Privacy" position I considered something of a punishment position. It wasn't as bad as some punishment positions I learned the next day, but it wasn't pleasant. This one simply involved being up in my knees, facing the wall. My knees had to be within one inch of the wall, but no part of my body, including my head, could touch the wall.  My ass could not touch my legs or feet, which meant I had to be up instead of a sitting position.

You have no idea how quickly this position could become painful.

Then there was the inspection position. Standing, legs spread, hands behind head. All part of the body exposed and available for prodding, poking, spreading insertion, spanking, whipping, whatever it was she had in mind.

The punishment version of this position was up on my toes... for as long as she wanted.

How long can you stand on your toes? Try it some time. It absolutely kills some of the calf muscles, and cramps set in very quickly. When I didn't stay up long enough, she tool a short paddle to me, and made my ass flaming red. It felt like it was on fire, too.

That evening, late, my body was exhausted, red and burning from spankings and crop whippings, and my muscles cramped from holding positions for long periods at a time. The sun had done down and it was time for dinner.

Both Jim and I ate out of dog bowls. We shared the same bowl, and there was actually a fight between us as to who would get more of the food. I was starved but Jim was pushing in, trying to get to the food first.

The little bastard.

The fight got us in trouble, and we paid for it.

Erin broke us up but we each got a caning.

Jim went first and I was made to watch. I knelt in the Ready position and watched as she gave him 12 strokes with a relatively small and supple cane. He groaned with each strike, and by the end he was almost screaming. I thought he was faking it, making it seem more painful than it was, except his ass was getting pretty big welts.

It came to be my turn, and Erin had get on hands and knees while Jim watched. It was embarrassing to be kneeling there so Jim could see every bit of my privates, my pussy lips hanging down, ass cheeks spread. The embarrassment went away with the first strike and was replaced with the unexpected nasty sting of the cane making me yelp.

I barely had time to recover before Erin was laying it on, strike after strike. My ass was on fire, and I couldn't help but try to wriggle away. She waited patiently until I got back into position, and then continued. I started screaming. Rather than wake the neighbors, Erin kindly provided a rather large panel gag that allowed me to make all the noise I wanted, and it would be effectively muffled.

A dozen strokes was horrible. By the last stroke I was crying, tears streaming down my face.

Time to recover. Erin isn't good at aftercare. Jason would have cuddled me, made me feel precious and appreciated for having endured the punishment. As it was, I was left in the punishment position with my ass burning while Erin got ready for bed.

Erin released Jim from strict control and he was allowed to roam the house and do as he pleased. He had a beer, watched some TV with his wife, though he was still naked. I knelt in the punishment position, waiting for a new command.

Bedtime in her household was 10pm. A strict rule. Erin brought me upstairs to her bedroom with Jim. Secretly I was hoping I would be able to sleep in a bed. There was no way I would ask... but I hoped.

No way.  A sleep sack on the floor. I had never actually seen one before, though I knew what they were. Sort of the ultimate in bondage. They cover your body tightly from neck to toes, cinched up and with no room to move. I imagine it must be very much like vacuum bondage (another thing I have never experienced).

As much as I love bondage and being restricted and helpless, I think I have a love hate relationship with the sleep sack. Thank goodness my head was free so I wasn't completely mummified, and I didn't panic. I could breathe. I just couldn't move.

Erin made sure I went to the restroom and peed. In fact she stood and watched as I did it. She informed me there would be no more bathroom privilege until the next morning. Once in the sack, there was no out.

It took almost 15 minutes to lace me up completely. When it was done, I was in tight. I could not move at all.

Erin took her husband into her bed, and I lay on the floor next to them. They had sex before they went to sleep, loud, grunting, sweaty sex and that sounded amazing. I just lay in the dark and listened. When they went to sleep, I tried to as well, but the constricted bondage was difficult. I think it took me two hours before I could sleep.

I woke up at 4am needing to pee. I managed to get back to sleep, but woke at 5am, urgently needing to pee. I knew there was no going. No bathroom privilege, and waking Erin up was out of the question.

Just when my bladder started hurting so badly I was seriously thinking of either releasing it inside my sleep sack and taking the consequences, or of waking Erin up (and taking the consequences), the alarm went off and Erin rose. Jim followed. I lay on the floor looking at them pitifully, but they both went into the bathroom and peed first.

"Well, slave, how was your night?" Erin asked once she had brushed her teeth. She was standing over me naked (she has a knockout, skinny body).

"Mistress, I need to pee badly, please Mistress," I said.

"I'll bet you do," she said and began loosening the laces. It took 10 minutes to undo the laces and the pain in my bladder made me afraid I was going to get an infection... or burst. But I made it to the toilet, and Erin watched me go once again. I had zero privacy in her house.

"Mistress, may I get ready to go to work?" I asked politely. She and her husband were already getting dressed.

"Yes, you may. Once dressed, you may go to work. However, you must wear a little reminder of your subservience to me."

She produced a pair of small nipple clamps. They were ones that lay relatively flat against my boob, but could be screwed tightly shut. She screwed them down quite hard, enough so I gasped from the pain.

"There. Those should stay on. If for any reason they dislodge during the day, you are to put them back on immediately. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"Be home here by 6:00 PM. No excuses," she said. Erin and her husband left the house for their work, and I was alone.

The nipple clamps hurt, but as time goes on, the pain of clamps tends to fade. Usually it is replaced by a dull ache until they are removed. I chose a loose blouse that would hide the accessories relatively well, got dressed, and went to work.

I lead a bit of a double life. When at work, I am a director of IT for a mid-sized company, professional, a leader, I get stuff done. I'm in command. That day I sat at my desk and remembered the previous night when a naked me, and a naked man, had been fighting over a dog dish of food. I wondered what my secretary would have thought had she known.

The clamps hurt a little bit during the day, and they did serve as a reminder of just what I would be returning to at the end of the day.

That evening I headed back, leaving at 5:30, which was plenty of time to get home. In regular traffic. Unfortunately, there was an accident. I was panicked, pounding the horn, trying to find an alternate route. It helped, but not enough. I got back at 6:05. Five minutes late.

I rushed in, hoping I was there before Erin. Nope.

She greeted me, told me to undress, which I did. I stood naked and at attention in the living room while she and Jim talked of their day and made dinner. Erin's husband is her slave, but much of the time they just interact as a regular husband and wife. When she is in a good mood, I guess.

Me? I was shit in their house. Untrained, unsatisfactory, crude, disobedient. I was so embarrassed.

Erin and her male slave ate at the dining table that night. I was collared and led around like a dog, and forced to eat their scraps from the dog dish. I lapped water from another dog dish. There wasn't enough food, I knew I would be hungry later, but I dared not ask for me.

When dinner was over, I received my punishment for being late. It was simple.

I was taken outside to their back yard, and told to stand at attention, There was no collar, no chain, nothing to hold me there. Obedience was expected.

They left me there, and went inside. I continued to stand where they left me, the entire evening. There was no clock to tell me how long I had been there, nothing to see except the flickering light of the TV inside their house, shining on the shades.

I think I cried again. I enjoy bondage at some level; the sleep sack, while hellish to endure for 10 hours, was still somehow core to my internal needs. It fed my desire for being restricted and bound, dominated.

This was simple isolation. I was miserable. Standing alone, naked, in the gradually cooling night, beginning to shiver, not being able to move.

I dared not move. I stood perfectly still. For hours.

Late that night Erin came outside, attached the leash and collar and brought me back inside.

"I think you will try a little harder to obey, and be home when you are told," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I collapsed on the floor in the worship position.

That night I slept on the floor. Not in the sleep sack, thank goodness. It was significantly more comfortable than the sleep sack. I was chained, but able to move about freely within a certain space, and I even masturbated twice during the night. I was as quiet as possible, and did not believe Erin heard me.

It was actually a pretty good night's sleep. I found myself missing Jason though, which is probably what led to the masturbation.

I was half way through my stay at Erin's home, and so far it had been a mix of ecstasy and sheer torture (which is to say, ecstasy).

Tuesday, July 5, 2016


My body is owned by another. I use it, but this is with the permission of its owner, my husband Jason. When he decides he wants my body to do something, to achieve something, to change in some way, then it is my responsibility as slave to make that change.

Jason has decided I need to enhance my flexibility.

I think there are a number of reasons why. He has also at times tested my pain thresholds, tolerance for humiliation, commitment and obedience, and has always looked for ways to expand my ability to serve him as a slave.

The more flexible I am, the more he can do with bondage, placing me in stressful positions, pushing the threshold of new positions, and I can also service him sexually with more variety. I get this.

At first, Jason simply directed me to perform certain exercises regularly to stretch and flex my muscles, much like a gymnast would perform. I've been instructed to stretch in the areas of the hamstring, adductor, groin, and the legs in general.

I was instructed to always perform these exercises in the nude. I usually perform them in the evening after getting home from work. I am very regular with them, because I know Jason will be expecting me to be more flexible and I do not want to be caught with him demanding flexibility and my not being able to provide it.

Just the thought of that makes me cringe with pain.

Over time, the exercises have actually made significant improvements in my body. I am not only more flexible, but I find my muscle tone is better and I've lost a couple of pounds (not that I was overweight before).

He's also prescribed some more unusual exercises that involve making other areas of my body more flexible, or at least training me to tolerate more stress in unusual positions.

There is a new exercise ball that I use, and I have performed various positions on this to increase my back's ability to curve backward, to tolerate inverted curves and curls.

Once I mastered this, I've gone on to doing inverted curvature exercises on the floor, with specific goals set. Jason has specifically outlined the angles and other indicators I am to achieve.  With the inverted floor exercise, I am to get my feet and hands to a specific distance from each other and hold the position for five minutes.

I can tell you now, it is painful. Obedience can be painful at times, and this is one of those times. I can get into the position, but the strain on my back is just... too much. I can't maintain five minutes by myself.

Jason has taken to supervising me in this exercise and uses a cane to encourage me to hold the position as long as possible. The cane does help; the threat of pain from the cane helps me take the pain of the inverted position and its cramping. Still, I have not yet achieved five minutes.

The caning I receive when I fail is painful. It reminds me to try harder. I usually cry when I receive it. I continue to work on the exercise.

I practice my exercises at all hours of the day, in a variety of activities, in order to reach my goals as quickly as I can.  For example, I will stretch at work, in my office, several times a day. No one knows that I am stretching so that I can spread my legs wider for my owner, that is a bit of information I hide, a secret that rather arouses me.

We also have established a common practice that when I service Jason, my legs are always spread as far apart as possible. If he fucks me, I will grab my feet and lock my knees, or if he takes me from behind I spread my legs wide.

If he demands oral, I will sit on the floor with my legs wide in the splits, and bend over and suck him.

These activities remind me of my position as slave, and my duty to obedience, in addition to helping me reach the goals Jason has set.

As I become more flexible, Jason has been using more strenuous bondage positions for me. Anyone who has read my blog and knows me, knows that I love tight bondage, severe bondage, and even painful bondage. I not only like it, I crave it.

Nevertheless, when I am bound it is for Jason's pleasure, not mine. Most recently, he subjected my body to a sort of suspended hogtie. He would tie my arms behind me in a reverse prayer, which is a matter of flexibility in itself. I am proud I can invert my arms behind my back and maintain that position for long periods at a time.

He then ties my feet together, and my feet are tied to my shoulder, neck or hair. I hate the hair the most; it hurts, pulling on the scalp painfully.  The neck is also choking, though he doesn't use slip knots that will tighten.

Finally, once in this restrictive and uncomfortable hogtie, Jason will attach a rope to my ankles and either my hair or shoulder harness and lift. This pulls my legs and head up, forcing my body into an inverted U.

Trust me, it is hard, especially on the back. The more he pulls, the more my body inverts and creates strain. Jason says he likes the noises I make when I am straining in this position. A sort of grunting moan. It is actually hard to cry this way, and I don't usually cry when bound anyway.

But I do moan, and make noises as my body strains to try and relieve the pressure on my hips, knees, back, neck...

It doesn't matter much whether I am gagged or not; being gagged usually doesn't stop me from crying out. It makes it hard to articulate words, but doesn't stop the sound.

I'm going to be really honest with you here. I love it that Jason is doing these things to me. This is the kind of thing I tried to do to myself ever since I was a teenager. It is impossible to bind oneself this securely, this uncomfortably. I've delighted and gained psychological and physical pleasure from being restrained and tied in uncomfortable and painful positions, and it is what makes me happiest.

Even when I am grunting, moaning, sobbing... I am turned on, wet, and excited.

The other night Jason pulled the inverted U hogtie suspension rope up all the way, so my stomach left the platform and I was completely suspended. My weight was on my ankles, hair and shoulders (my arms were in a modified strappado).

I hung there in the garage, swinging gently, for nearly 15 minutes. The only movement possible was to try and straighten my body out a bit, but doing so put more strain and pull on my shoulders and hair, so I tried very hard not to do that.

Otherwise, I simply hung helpless in this horrible, undignified position. I think I made very unfeminine grunting and groaning noises the entire time.

It was marvelous. Amazing.

Last night Jason decided I was not trying hard enough, not making enough progress with my splits.

Jason brought me to the garage, to a heavy supporting beam that stands in the middle of it. I was naked of course. He made me face the beam. I wondered what the heck he had in mind, but knew it was going to be uncomfortable at the least, and probably painful.

First, he tied one leg to the beam. Just one.

Then he tied my wrists behind my back, pulled my elbows together and cinched them tight as well. So far, no big deal.

My wrists were lifted up behind my back. Strappado. Normally I could lean over to compensate for the pull and twist on my shoulders but I was tied facing the beam, and couldn't. My shoulders started hurting right away.

Next, he tied my neck to the post. Holy crap. That didn't really change the tension or pain, but it did keep me from moving much and the cramps were setting in. I started to moan, and maybe even squeezed out a couple of tears.

Then things got really nasty.

Jason lifted my other leg up. I could do the splits no problem by now, but there is a difference between doing the splits with my legs spread to the side, and doing them with my body facing my leg. That I was not really practicing or able to do. Which is why it hurt and I started crying when he lifted my leg up so it ran directly against the beam, up next to my head.

He quickly lashed my leg in place, added a couple more ropes and I was securely stuck in a nasty vertical split, with arms in a painful strappado.

I think I really cried then. I wouldn't beg to be let free, my pride got in the way of that. Plus, it is unlikely Jason would have let me go.

Instead, he put nipple clamps on me. And weighted them.

This was the most severe, painful bondage I have been in for months, and I wasn't even being punished. It was simply for Jason's pleasure. He was enjoying moving, stretching, manipulating my body. I might even say he was enjoying my pain. He has a definite streak of sadism in him, just as I have a powerful streak of masochism in me.

It's a good match.

Anyway, as I said I simply stood there, one foot on the floor, the other tied directly vertical in front of my face, arms pulled up behind me, weights clamped to my nipples, sobbing. There was really nothing else I could do except sob. Cry. Let the tears roll out from the cramps that shuddered through my body.

After 15 minutes, Jason rewarded me. My cunt was of course exposed nicely, since my legs were spread as wide as I could get them. He brought my vibrator out and put it on my cunt, rubbed my clit really nicely with it, and made me cum.

Yes, it was painful. He finally let me down, and it took me a while before I could walk. I was sore all today.

I masturbated twice in the women's restroom today, just remembering the amazing tight bondage Jason had used. I love that guy more every day.

Monday, May 9, 2016

Stress Bondage

I first played with stress bondage when I was a young teenager, before I had a regular partner. I was still experimenting with self bondage. I didn't actually know that was what it was, it was just what I wanted to do.

There's a basic problem to overcome during self bondage: how to feel like you are bound, unable to get out, completely helpless... and yet still able to get out. There's always a compromise someplace. The compromise is either that you really are bound and helpless until some event occurs (like a timer goes off) and the means for escape is provided, or that you feel helpless but in reality there is some slip knot, position, or trick to use to get untied later.

When I first played with self bondage I wasn't sophisticated enough, nor did I have the resources to set timers or special techniques to release a key after a period of time. I relied on tight ties that I was still somehow able to get out of. The problem with this technique is that sometimes... you aren't able to get out as easily as you thought. (You may remember my first real experience with binding myself, when I was unable to get out and had to crawl to the kitchen to get a knife).

So I discovered stress bondage positions when trying to get myself into a nice tight hogtie that was hard to get out of. My parents were gone for the evening on a personal date, it was 6 PM and I didn't expect them home until 11 or later.

I stripped my clothes off. For whatever reason, feeling naked, completely exposed and vulnerable, greatly enhanced the experience for me.

While still young and inexperienced, I had obtained a dildo. This I placed inside myself, and then tied a waist /crotch rope to hold it in.

Then, a frog tie. I had no idea that was what it was called, I simply knew that tying my legs to my thighs made me feel remarkably helpless and was uncomfortable; the feeling of discomfort was more and more important in my bondage sessions. Being uncomfortable made it feel more like I was truly bound and helpless.

Next was the ankle restraints. These went around my ankles; with a nice pull I got that tight. There was a pre-measured length of rope extending from the ankle tie. At the end of that was a cinch knot; essentially a hangman's knot. A hangman's knot has the characteristic of constantly growing tighter as you pull on it. But if you can relieve the pressure, you can actually slide it back and it becomes looser. I counted on this to get out.

Time for the gag. Again, the whole point in the self bondage mechanism was to give the illusion that I couldn't get out, even if I could (which was hopefully the case). It was a ball gag, the one piece of bondage equipment that I had been able to obtain at that age.

Ball gags don't actually stop one from talking or making noise, but they do rather humiliate one, especially with the drooling, which I tend to do a lot.

Then came the last step. Securing my wrists. In order to make me feel as helpless, uncomfortable and restrained as possible, I wanted my wrists tied behind my back tightly. I rolled onto my stomach on my bed, reached behind and grabbed hold of the rope length dangling from my ankles.

I have to mention that by now I was incredibly aroused. I needed this. The helpless, bound feeling was something I truly needed and was increasingly associated with sexual arousal for me. To put it simply, I was wet. Really wet.

I pulled the end of the ankle rope through the metal bars that were part of my bed's headboard. The rope wasn't long enough to get all the way through and back around. This was intentional so I had to arch my back, bringing my legs and ankles as far up as I could to give some slack.

The slack was barely enough to get the end of the rope around the headboard bar, and grab it. I pulled on it, which in turn pulled on my ankles, arching my back even more. This should have been a clue to me I was getting in over my head, but... well, I was so aroused and excited by now I wasn't thinking straight. I pulled and pulled, lifting my legs up behind me until the end of the rope was about even with the space between my shoulders.

The end of that rope had the cinch knot. Holding on I got one wrist through the loop, and then with great effort, I got the second wrist into the loop. I was still holding the rope with my hand, straining to keep my back arched and legs raised back behind me.

With my wrists in the cinch loop, it was time to let go of the rope that was pulling my legs behind me and toward my head (but behind my back). The weight and tension from my legs immediately yanked on the rope, cinching it tight, and then pulling my wrists up behind me toward my head.

I suddenly understood what a self imposed strappado felt like. My legs and lower body were pulling on the rope that was holding my wrists tied together, lifting them up behind me.

I grunted. I moaned. I wanted a vibrator. I wanted to cum. I was so fucking turned on. I struggled with the ropes; this did no good because any struggle just pulled my wrists tighter and further up behind me. My hands felt like they were expanding balloons from restricted blood flow. My shoulders started cramping.

That's when I realized I was in trouble. The theory had been that I would arch my back, move my ankles closer to the headboard, thus relieving some pressure and allowing me to work loose the cinch loop around my wrists to get free.

What I didn't realize was that with the rope as short as it was my muscles were pulled, my back arched, my legs and back were cramping, as well as my shoulders and arms. Pushing even further to gain some slack wasn't possible.

It was maybe 7 PM, and my parents weren't going to be home for another 4 hours. But I really didn't want to explain myself to them anyway. They'd put me in a loony bin.

I struggled, strained, rolled to the side, moved the angle of my body, tried all sorts of stuff. The more I wriggled and strained, the worse it hurt. I had stuck myself. There was no way I was getting loose.

The longer I stayed in that position the more it hurt my body. The muscles rebelled and weakened. My legs were weak and couldn't work with me. My back wouldn't arch any more. My arms refused to move up.

I started to cry, I think around 7:30 or 8:00. I gave up and just tried to endure. The longer I endured the more it hurt.

How did I get out? Painfully. I finally managed to twist my body sideways on the bed so that my legs and feet were up against the metal frame headboard. I hooked my feet against the frame and then pulled on the rope, grabbed the frame with my hands, and did whatever I could to force my body back in a severe reverse arch, which gave me some slack on the rope. Working the cinch noose for a few minutes in that extremely painful position, I finally got my wrists free.

My body had been forced back into the reverse arch position for more than two hours and it no longer mattered what position I was in, it hurt. Muscle groups protested when I curled forward and I screamed. Moving my arms in front of my body made me scream again. As blood flowed back into my purple hands, I cried.

Finally I got enough mobility in my fingers I was able to untie my legs, and screamed again when I tried to stretch them out.

When I finally got somewhat back to normal, I masturbated. I used the dildo, rubbed my clit, and came. It was one of the best orgasms I'd had as a teen, and I masturbated again. I thought about the sensations of being tied and truly helpless and came like a freight train.

That is quite a memory from my teen years.

That memory has returned clearly because Jason has started playing with predicament and stress bondage recently. He isn't sophisticated at it yet, and I am not looking forward to his getting better at it. It can be diabolical. Predicament bondage is very similar to stress bondage, in that it can cause stress on my body; the predicament is that there are choices as to which stress, or what kind of stress, or where to focus the stress.

He tends to tie me in these various positions in the garage. For some reason this makes the situation more difficult for me. Perhaps the garage is a more sterile, unfriendly environment. It has a concrete floor, the temperature is not regulated and without clothes, tends to be more uncomfortable. It also feels more exposed; it is just a garage door away from being exposed to the public, as opposed to the safety of my bedroom or the living room.  All this is psychological of course, but so much of bondage and slavery is just that.

One of the most nasty stress positions he's put me in is really simple (as many nasty bondage techniques are).

First, he instructed me to remove all my clothes, so I was completely naked. He then led me to the garage, which was somewhat cold. The concrete felt cold to my feet and my nipples were hard. He then tied my left wrist and inserted the rope through a ring above my head and pulled it tight so I was standing pretty much on my tip toes. This was uncomfortable, and would eventually become very uncomfortable over time, as my body tired.

He then placed bondage cuffs on my right wrist and left ankle. Lifting my left foot up behind me, he brought it over to my right wrist and attached it with a heavy clip.

Thus, I was hanging from my left wrist, standing on tip toes of my right foot. My right wrist was connected to my left ankle behind me. And there I hung.

Let me tell you, this position is a classic but not recommended. I was sobbing in pain and begging to be released in five minutes. I think every muscle in both arms and legs were stretched and cramping. There was little room to adjust or shift weight, but I tried, believe me I tried. Up high on my toes to release pressure on my arm; back down when my calf and foot muscles gave out, increasing the pull on my arm and shoulder.

The other two limbs behind me were twisted and pulling and my back felt like it would break. I think my entire back was cramping, my shoulders, my thighs... That was a severe position. Muscles were cramping and strained in both thighs, my back, upper and lower, my shoulders (which were twisted sideways due to the unevenness of the rope tie), my legs, especially the leg where I was attempting to stand tiptoe.

Jason later shared with me that he had never seen me break into tears as quickly as when he had pulled me up into that position. He was kind and let me down after about ten minutes. I understand my role is to suffer for him, but I really appreciate it when he doesn't make me suffer too much and has a bit of mercy.

Another stress position he's put me in recently was the choking hogtie. I have to say, this one takes a lot of trust because it involves a noose around my neck. I would hope no one else tries this unless they are very good and have constant supervision. Jason was with me all the time, which relieved some of the psychological panic I had from this one.

It's basically a hogtie, except the ankles are tied together and then to a rope around my neck. The rope between my ankles and my neck is then cinched tight. This pulls my ankles and legs up behind me, and my neck and shoulders are lifted up and back toward my ankles. This is a naturally very uncomfortable position that causes cramps pretty quickly, and naturally, I struggle.

The more I struggle, the more the rope pulls on the neck and chokes me. It doesn't take long before my head is pounding with pressure, I am seeing spots, and I really need to breathe. For this, I have to just force myself to stop wiggling and bring my legs back, arching my back as far as it will go. Things loosen up and I can breathe.

Thing is, I can't hold this for long. Not long at all. My legs and back cramp quickly, I have to relax and my legs try to straighten out and pull on the choke rope and I choke. I make interesting sounds when I choke, apparently. A kind of gurgling gasp.

Jason won't let me suck his dick when I am in the choking hogtie, because I wriggle and gasp so much he is afraid I will bite him. I wouldn't on purpose, of course, but when I am struggling to just breathe I would worry about my control, and I am glad I don't have his cock in my mouth.

Jason likes this one, because my struggles and pain are obvious, and he gets off on it. He's masturbated and cum on my face both times I've been in this tie. But it is dangerous so I am happy he's only done it a couple of times.

Another variant he's done on the choking hogtie is to hook my neck rope up to an ass hook, instead of my ankles. This isn't nearly as much of a predicament tie as the choking hogtie, because there isn't as much flexibility in the back and neck. I can lift my head and neck to relieve pressure some, which not only helps me breathe but also stops the pain of the ass hook.

If I relax completely in this position, I choke, and the ass hook digs into my ass nice and deep. Like I say, there isn't as much movement possible with this tie, and so it is much more just endurance.

How long does he keep me in these ties? Until I can't stand it any more, and beg to be released, and then a little bit more. He likes to hear me beg. I know he will push me to my limit, and then a little further.

I really wish Jason had been around when I was a teenager and trying to do this to myself.


Since I began to write this entry, which was a couple of weeks ago, Jason has put me into one additional form of hogtie stress bondage that has greatly increased discomfort and ... yes, pain.

Yes, the stress bondage Jason puts me in hurts. It just plain old hurts. The pain is mostly cramps, joint strain, and the like. Sometimes a specific area stretches badly, and the muscles begin to burn. Blood flow is restricted to my extremities, and that can also slowly but surely create pain.

In some positions it is hard to breathe, and the blood pressure changes can cause some nasty headaches.

Yes, it hurts, sometimes badly enough I will cry. By cry, I mean not just a few tears, but sobbing.

So, anyway, recently, Jason has added a lift to the hog tie. By this I mean he will tie a rope somewhere to the ropes that hold me in bondage, and then run that rope to a pulley above me. After I am secured and unable to move, he lifts.

If the pull rope is secured in the center of gravity, which it usually is, it has a tendency to pull my neck, shoulders and legs back up. My back arches in a reverse arch.

In this position it doesn't take long before the cramps set in. If he is having mercy on me, he doesn't lift me too high, and my weight can be somewhat supported. This might not seem too bad, but it's the length of time he leaves me there that hurts.

This may seem cruel to you, but you have to realize I have been tying myself up like this for years, and wanting to be bounded helpless like this, at someone else's whim, exposed and in pain for someone else's pleasure. I don't know why, but I seek this and nothing makes me more satisfied that to be slowly cramping, struggling, suffering for Jason as he watches. I like to know he is watching the muscles in my body shift and strain, moving slightly to try and cope.

I like to think that my body in pain, in bondage, is sexy and attractive to him.

So far he has simply used this technique to pull my legs and head together, to increase the strain and angle of reverse arch. He hasn't lifted me off the ground. I am afraid that sometime, soon, he will. I can't imagine how quickly that will become unbearable.

Yesterday, he pulled me into a severe reverse arch. I think my body was completely arched into an O, with my feet near my head.

He accomplished this with my head in a harness, a new panel gag harness he's purchased. With this he can tie my head to my feet or ankles, cinch it back tightly until I can't stand it any more and then leave me there. The rope extends from the top of my head and pulls on the harness that goes over my eyes, secures the gag in my mouth, and lifts the chin strap.

I know I look sexy in this position, because my head is bent backward, exposing my neck, chest and breasts. My hips are also lifted sufficiently that my pussy is easily seen. It is somewhat natural during this pulling for my legs to separate; I can't keep them together, which means my pussy is clearly visible.  I know this because he touches me while I am bent back like this, and massages my clit.

It might be hard to accept, but I had an orgasm in this position. Yes, I was in a several hogtie, the lift adding strain to my entire body. My back, hips, thighs, shoulders, neck, chest... everything was stretched in unnatural ways and were hurting. In fact, I think I was crying, tears from my eyes streaming down to mix with the saliva draining from my mouth.

Jason reached between my legs and massaged me. I couldn't move, of course, I just hung there and took it. Slowly, my cunt warmed up, and in spite of the pain I became very aroused. When I shuddered with a climax, Jason bent down and kissed my panel gag, and said "good girl."

It felt good to know I was pleasing him with my suffering.

I think I was in that position for a half hour or so before he let me down. It took a day for my body to recover from that session. I still feel the soreness and think I have a slight muscle pull in my left shoulder.