Monday, February 19, 2018

Going Pro

It is a lot harder to find a good BDSM partner and master than one might think.

There are plenty of people out there. Guys that think they want to dominate. Even women that want it. I learned a long, long time ago there is a difference from some guy just being mean and domineering and someone being dominant and using bondage and discipline as part of daily life.

I don't want to get into a situation where I just get slapped around and punched. Been there, done that.

I also don't want to get hooked up with a guy who treats me as a "little" or some sort of pet on a leash. I don't mind leashes and collars. But I am not a girl that needs to run around wearing cute kitten ears and wearing a butt plug tail.

And of course there are standards in terms of looks, success, location, age, fitness, and the like.

When it all comes together, it is not easy to find someone that matches me. It's why Jason was so perfect (do I sound like a parrot here?).

So... yeah. I've done a few things in the meantime. First, I've been re-establishing things with Jason. The divorce is going through and we are working out a fair split (he didn't have to give me anything according to the prenup). Second, I have played with a guy I know about an hour drive away who is very active with a number of people as a master. Third, I've re-engaged with an outfit that I actually did some BDSM porn for a long time ago.

Self bondage has been an option of last resort, and is good to keep me going. I can do some rather complex stuff at home now with straps, rope, locks and keys, timers, etc.

Lastly, I've been with Erin. She has done her best to support me, but she's a mistress and it isn't always easy for her to treat me like a girlfriend and let me cry on her shoulder. So, we've tried some submissive stuff.

She's a great mistress and I am totally bi, and this arrangement has worked. Erin knows how to dominate me, restrain me, humiliate me, make me service her, and just in general make me into a blubbering submissive slave in total subspace.

The only problem is that Erin is married and devoted to her husband/slave. I can be nothing but temporary unless I am willing to fit in with them as a threesome. That would probably mean my being submissive to Jim as well. I could deal with that. But in general, Erin doesn't actually have that much time for me.

Interestingly, the best experience of all of these options has been the porn outfit. They are pros. They know how to tie a knot, how to suspend a body, how to invoke a lot of pain without doing permanent damage. All in a rather humiliating way with cameras and riggers hanging around watching me drool and suffer. And those doms really don't care much about the girls; they are there to do a job-- and you are too, and you better just hang there and take it and cry while it is happening, or you don't get paid.

The pros will also do things no one else can because they have the equipment and space and experience.

I was a little worried they wouldn't cast me / hire me, because I am a lot older than when I did it before. I am into my 30s and most of the girls are in their early 20s. Turns out I guess I still have the body and the looks; that combined with the fact I am willing to do some intense stuff... they said OK after I sent photos and filled out the questionnaire about what I was willing to do. Which was a lot.

So this outfit I did some stuff for, they are not local. I had to fly out there for sessions. Did you know these guys don't usually work on weekends? I had to actually take time off from work to fly all the way across the country and spend a day filming.

I won't go into a long detail of everything they did to me (I know, I know, some people are asking why noootttt????). So much of it is standard stuff. Hogtie, ring gag. Dildo-on-a-pole shoved up my cunt. Then into my mouth. Then back to my cunt. Then my mouth. Then chain me to a whipping post and whip the fuck out of my ass.

The one thing that we did was something I have always fantasized about. Crucifixion. I know, it is a weird fantasy, but ever since I got into heavy bondage I had always viewed crucifixion as the ultimate. Bound, exposed, hanging, humiliated, in endurance bondage that just slowly gets more and more painful, but there is absolutely nothing you can do. It's the ultimate of what I want and need out of bondage.

I had the opportunity and was crucified many years ago, but the action was limited and I was looking for something a bit more intense or realistic. I mean, crucifixion is just hanging by your arms, really, and I had done that any number of times. But actually doing the whole suffering on the cross outside thing-- it was something I wanted to explore and I asked them if they had ever done it.

Of course they had, but were always willing to give it a try again. HA.

So after the first filming when they decided I was actually a pain slut, which I am, they decided to go ahead with an investment in a crucifixion.

It was scheduled for a few weeks after my first day with them (which left me with bruises and sore tits for a week... hey, I asked for it).

So the filming was done in North Carolina, out in the woods. It was gorgeous in the forest. They were using the house of a friend that backed up to some land (I didn't ask if they owned the land, I bet they didn't).

Crucifixions actually can be kind of boring for the observer. They are a form of endurance bondage, which can be great fun (or misery) for the participants, but observers can get bored. So they filmed some action before hand. I stripped down and they hung be from the ceiling and whipped my ass and fucked my cunt with a dildo. The flogger they used hurt like hell, but nothing I hadn't taken before. The dildo left me feeling stretched and sore, but they at least used a condom that was lubed on it.

The process of being tied to the cross was a little surprising for me. They threw me on the ground and put the cross on my back. They then grabbed my arms and pulled them backwards over the crossbeam that was laying on my shoulders, and did a really good job of tying my wrists together and to the crossbeam. So I wasn't going to be crucified with my arms outstretched, which is what I assumed.

Any change in expectations like that can make one very nervous about the unknown. That nervousness is exactly what gets me off, because it pushes my helplessness in my face. They could literally kill me at that point and there would be nothing I could do about it.

They used a whip on my back and legs to get me moving. It stung and was a pretty good motivator. I stood up, lifting the damned heavy cross I was now tied to and began dragging it. They had two cameras filming me, and they must have captured every agonizing step I took.

Yeah, I was completely naked. It was in the hills of NC and in the early fall; the temperatures were cool and without clothes I was cold. And the hills of NC are not made for just walking on with bare feet.

This was much closer to the miserable submission to crucifixion I had in mind than my previous experiences.

They kept whipping me as I walked along, picking my way as best I could across the rough land. I had no idea how far or where I was going, but at least the exertion of pulling that heavy cross was keeping me warmer.

I stumbled at least once on the way, landing flat on my stomach with that wood monstrosity on my back. The sadist in control of this was just pleased as punch when I did that, it gave him an excuse to whip me harder, which in term motivated me to get up and keep walking.

It wasn't that far. Maybe five or ten minutes walk (dragging a heavy wooden cross), but it seemed like we were deep in the woods. They could hang my body out there and let me die and no one would ever know. They finally told me to stop and I collapsed onto the ground with the heavy wood thing pushing me down. I couldn't keep it up any longer. It felt good to rest.

There was a hole in the ground near by. Not a big one, but deep. I lay on the ground, arms tied to the cross, unable to really move anywhere and waited.

The sadist grabbed my feet and tied my ankles together, then looped the rope around the cross. Another very secure tie, and my knees were bent (in true crux victim form).

They stopped filming because it took the whole crew to lift me and the cross up and get it into the hole. By then I was tied up securely and couldn't help anyone with anything. I was attached to that damn cross and had no choice but to simply get lifted and moved into place.

This was the point where it started hurting. My arms going over the cross piece were driven into the wood, and the corners of the wood were digging into my flesh. I complained, moaned, cried a bit, told them it hurt. They didn't really care much, it was supposed to hurt.

They rolled the cross over so I was facing the sky then dragged it so the bottom was next to the hole. Then they lifted me up into the air and I slid down, my back dragging on the wood and getting a nice boatload of splinters as I went. I screamed and swore. They ignored me.

"Fuckkk.... fuck fuck fuck... goddammit the cross has splinters!" I yelled as my body slid down and sank into place.

Then as the cross hit the bottom of the hole and my body weight settled on my arms, "OOOhhhh godddaammmit, my aaarrmmmsss... fuck fuck fuck..." The corners of the beam dug into both arms in two places where they went over.

"Push up on your feet," said the sadist.

I did. Hmm. My feet / ankles were tied to the upright of the cross and when I pushed down it raised my body slightly and put less pressure on my arms. That helped, a lot. Except my knees were bent and I couldn't push up far enough to straighten them. Try it-- try squatting with your knees bent at a 90 degree angle and see how long you can hold it. You can, for a while, but after a while your legs tire and just give out.

My legs gave out after about a minute and I sagged down and my arms dug into the crossbeam again and I swore and it hurt and dammmmmmmmnnnnnn.... this was what being crucified was really like. Being hung up naked and exposed and trying to find a comfortable, pain-free position that simply doesn't exist.

And my legs, of course, because of the way they were tied, were spread wide exposing my cunt to the camera , which focused in nice and tight at times. When I was lifting up on my legs, which was as much as I could, I was shaking and I could tell my cunt lips were visibly wobbling.

I imagined thousands of men surrounding me, watching me suffer, hanging on that damned cross. It made the whole experience more humiliating and more exciting at the same time. It was as if I was being crucified in public someplace, a spectacle for the public to come and gawk at.

And masturbate to, as well.

I think I was up on the cross about an hour, total. Not that long, really, but it was plenty for me to be getting desperate. I was in increasing pain in my back from hanging, and my legs and hips were aching and cramping from trying to lift myself.

One of the things about being tied up and on display is that you can't do little things for yourself that you normally do. Like brush the hair out of your eyes. Or wipe sweat away when it trickles down from your forehead into your eyes. Or wave away bugs. Bees and other creatures. At one point I swore ants were crawling up my leg and into my cunt.

I didn't talk much on the cross. There was no gag, so I could have had conversations but frankly, the camera man and still camera guy and sadist-rigger just didn't seem sympathetic people to talk to while I was suffering up there in the middle of the woods.

In spite of being tied only at my arms and ankles, there was really very little movement available to me. It was almost exclusively up and down maybe a foot or so. My hips could swing from side to side, which I did do a few times.

It was weird. At one point they stopped filming and the three guys just had a cigarette break. They stood in front of me a few feet and talked about their girlfriends and taxes and whether they were going to get laid that weekend. All while I was hanging a few feet away from them, in real pain.

I mean, really. I was hanging there in agony. They were supposed to be filming me, there was no reason to leave me up there, hanging, unless they were taking pictures; but these guys were just enjoying themselves while I was suffering up there on the cross. It really struck home then, that was what it was like being crucified. Just hanging there, suffering, and dying, while others talking about what they were having for dinner.

The sadist came over and diddled my clit for a while and they started filming again, then finally released me. They had to get a step ladder to get to me, they didn't want to dig up the cross-- too much work I guess. They cut me down and I lay on the ground for a while, unable to move. My legs and arms had simply given out.

I cried on the ground; I hadn't cried at all while up on the cross. I guess the relief and final sense of freedom just released the shit in my brain from being hung up there for more than an hour. The rigger gave me water and put a robe around me, and we went back to the house.

The next day, on the way home on the airplane I felt the strained muscles and seriously bruised arms and wondered why I am this sick. The experience fucking hurt. Reading over my description here it is clinical, almost detached. In reality I was sweating, shaking, scared, aroused, wet between my legs, aching, drooling, and in some serious fucking pain at times. Yet it had been a fantastic experience.

I dreamed of the crucifixion for days afterward. Sometimes nightmares, sometimes sex dreams. I masturbated to memories of it.

The bruises faded, the abrasions from the ropes went away in a few days.

It was the next week when I realized that the crucifixion had actually increased my need for bondage and pain. I used to be satisfied with being handcuffed while some guy fucked me. That seemed so... vanilla to me now.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Begging

I moved out of the hotel. I didn't go for an apartment, but a condo. An apartment would be easier to move in and out of but I found a wonderful three bedroom condo with a partial view of a lake and fell in love with the place.

Moving in was rather quick and easy, as I have virtually nothing except for my clothes and personal items. The furniture was entirely provided by a rental place and went in a few days before I moved. One bedroom upstairs has been left mostly empty, though it has a single bed in it. It's a spacious room, ready for items which I may be able to acquire or retrieve.

The only real thing it is missing is a play partner. Estelle was great for a couple of days, but ... I need something. Someone.

The lawyers are handling the divorce. I hope they don't suck everything out of it.

The issue is... I have never had anyone that knew me, cared for me, gave me what I need and desire, like Jason. Some have come close, and to tell the truth there have been one or two girls that came close. But ultimately, there is a reason why I linked myself to Jason.

So after getting established in my condo, I went to see Jason.

I called first, made sure he would be there. He agreed to see me.

You must understand that while I am submissive, it isn't always that easy of a thing for me. Submission is something that grew out of a kink I developed as a very young teen-- being tied up and manipulated, even hurt, as part of sex. A submissive nature is necessarily part of that, but it isn't like I started out submissive and then let people tie me up because I was submitting to them. There's a subtle difference.

Yes, I am submissive, but I don't simply get off on kneeling and barking like a dog or whatever it is my master wants. No. I need to submit as part of a process of losing control, losing physical control of myself. I don't know how better to describe it.

So going to Jason was difficult for me. Describing what happened is a bit difficult. In fact, once I had moved into the condo and lived in it for a couple of days, I was spiraling into depression once again, and needed to do something, anything. I had to take action.

I went to my house, the one I used to live in, and stood at the front door. I removed my clothes, put on a collar and chain. You do have to realize the door is partially exposed to the street. Neighbors across the street know of my somewhat unusual relationship (we've actually played with them a few times). But I was still exposed to casual passers-by. It didn't matter to me.

I rang the doorbell, then knelt in a traditional submissive's pose, my back to the street, head bowed.

Jason answered the door quickly.

"Siobhan. What are you doing?"

"I'm here to beg, Jason. I... I need you. Somehow. Anyhow. Just... Take me."

Jason looked down at me, clearly concerned, clearly upset. I couldn't see what was going on in his mind. I was scared he would just push me back and close the door on me.

Finally he said, "Well, we can't do this in the street. Come in."

I stood and went in calmly, bringing my folded clothes with me.

"Siobhan, we can't undo what happened. You are no longer my slave."

"I know, Jason. But that doesn't mean I don't want and need you. You know me better than anyone in this world, and you know how I need what we had. I am not prepared to give up on that."

Jason sat in a chair with an exhausted sigh. I knelt before him in a submissive posture, trying hard to keep tears from flowing. He could not know how my weakness was emerging right then.

"What we had was predicated on your complete submission and trust in me. It was designed specifically to prevent topping from below, something you wanted to make sure did not happen. When you invoked the Safe Word, you broke that. You topped from below, you took control. You can't have it both ways, baby girl. The rules were yours as much as they were mine."

"I know, Jason. It was a mistake. I am sorry. My body craves you, and more importantly, my mind craves you."

I lay down before him, in a prone slave worship position.

I think Jason may have been crying at that point. He was extremely upset, I know. "Siobhan, don't do this. It isn't like this is fixable. What we had is simply broken. We can't crazy glue it together."

"Yes sir. I know this sir. I was just hoping... we could build something new. Maybe something different."

My face was plastered straight down on the carpet. He could have done anything to me at that moment and I would have accepted it willingly. He could have put a noose around my neck and strangled me to death. He could have invited in the entire block of men living in the neighborhood and passed me around. I was trying desperately to get this across to him.

The conversation went on like that for a while, with me talking with my face on the floor, and he sitting in his chair. At one point he leaned forward in his chair and played with my hair lovingly, and that's when I could stop it, I began sobbing, my tears wetting the carpet below me. But I held my slave worship position.

In the end, Jason did not take me back as slave, but did relent and see that perhaps we could continue our relationship in some way. Perhaps not man and wife, not as owned slave and owner, but ... something.

It was a long emotional discussion. The divorce would move forward. We'd split assets (which he didn't have to, according to the prenup most of it was his). We were both free to pursue other interests and people.

But we would also see how we could continue our relationship. He'd think of taking me back with some appropriate level of punishment (which made me shudder... it isn't going to be pretty, let me tell you).

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the penny punishment. For those that don't know how this works, I stand naked with my feet about two feet from the wall. I then lean in so my forehead touches. A penny is slipped in between my forehead and the wall, and I have to keep it there. Hands are kept behind my back, handcuffed if I am lucky. It's an endurance test, and if held long enough can be real torture. After several hours I was shaking.

When time was up Jason came in and caught the penny when I moved. I couldn't lean back, my body was cramping in ways that made straightening up difficult. Instead I just sort of sank to my knees and then to my side, laying on the floor.

Jason told me to get dressed and go home. I did, quietly. When I was dressed I moved to him and he took me in his arms and we kissed. When the kiss broke, I simply said, "thank you, Jason."

Jason gave me another goodbye peck and I left, heading out the door and back to my new condo.

Once back in the condo I unpacked several boxes that had arrived; mostly new bondage and punishment gear. I got undressed and tried out a few items, enjoying the feeling of leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, of the smooth curve of a butt plug, and the clink of handcuffs.

When it came down to it though, I used none of that stuff. Instead I got a simple hair brush from the bathroom, bent over the bed and began hitting my bare ass with it. As hard as I could. Spanking yourself is never as good or painful as when someone else does it, but I spanked myself for a good twenty minutes, grunting and heaving and panting all alone in my condo.

I went to bed, legs and back aching from the penny punishment, and my ass burning from the self-punishment. Once again I reassured myself that life would go on. Jason was not out of my life, though things had changed. I would find other partners, and explore new things. Life was all right.

Monday, January 22, 2018

Estelle Again

The next day I was in a better mood.

It soured some when I got notice from an attorney representing Jason in the divorce case. He had moved quickly to get representation. I was going to have to do the same.

I make more money than Jason at my job. I'm a director at a corporate IT department, and have about ten people working for me. When Jason and I got married I signed a prenuptial agreement which was restrictive, essentially a slave contract. It turned everything over to Jason, and gave him control over all assets. The only assets I had were those he had given me, and that wasn't much.

Luckily, I got a paycheck fairly soon and the cash from that got me back on my feet. But I needed an attorney, I needed to see if I could get something out of the mutual property. The slave contract I had signed was carefully crafted to be completely legal, but could still be challenged I was sure. Anything can be challenged.

Don't get me wrong-- I didn't resent that Jason had all the assets. It was part of the deal I signed up for. As a slave, I had nothing except what he allowed me. Even my job was something he allowed me to have, simply to I could serve him by bringing in money. I was sure glad I had the job now, though.

I was in a better mood because of my self-bondage session the night before. It had made me realize my life wasn't over. I had lived without Jason before, and I would again. I didn't especially want to; I really wanted for Jason to take me back. That just didn't seem like a possibility right then.

So I was immediately planning for a self bondage session that evening after work. Estelle was the room service maid who had done turndown service the night before, and had agreed to come by again that night. More or less. It meant I could really do some self bondage and this excited me the entire day. I was distracted in meetings and left work early.

One thing that had made me feel weird and naked was that Jason had removed my slave collar. It was a thin steel ring, light and classy, and could be worn anywhere without raising eyebrows. But, it needed a special tool to remove and Jason was the one with the tool. He had removed it that night and so for the first time in a number of years I wasn't wearing a collar around my neck. I really did feel naked without it.

I thought of getting a replacement, a slave collar of my own to replace it, but decided against it. The collar was a symbol of my slave status. If I was no longer an owned slave, I should not be wearing a collar. It was like wearing a wedding ring when I wasn't married. If I wanted a slave collar, I needed to find a master and owner to collar me.

These were just some of the issues I was dealing with in the week after the initial breakup. There was a lot going on, but I am stabilizing myself slowly but surely. A big part of that stabilization was getting back into some bondage and feeling normal again. Even if it was self-bondage.

For the second self bondage session, I decided to try something I had seen someone else do. It was actually quite a simple tie, but would render me completely helpless in a rather convoluted way-- something that made me wet just thinking about. The only hard part was that it required creating some very specific ties using pre-cut lengths of rope.

For this, I went by Home Depot again, and got new rope, duct tape, and a cutter. I had ordered some self bondage equipment over the internet including various types of cuffs, timers, clamps, straps, harnesses... over $500 worth of stuff. It costs to get quality, but is worth it. But for now, the rope would do as long as I prepared it carefully.

I actually took off from work early, at 3:00. The prospect of once again getting into some bondage and being truly helpless was exciting me and I was distracted during the day. In fact, I was even wet during the day. I know, I checked. I wanted to go to the women's room and masturbate but made myself wait. I wanted to be totally aroused and frustrated when in bondage.

(One thing about the bondage items I ordered was that it would make it easier to add dildos or vibrators to the experience. Rope bondage made it difficult to arrange self stimulation during the restraint.)

Back in the hotel by 4:00, I first stripped to completely naked. I set about measuring and cutting the various lengths of rope, which has to be done while naked-- the presence of clothes can completely alter the length measurements. I added a couple of rope strips over the sample I had seen to make things more secure and restrictive, but in the end there were five lengths of rope.

The one dangerous part of this was that it involved a loop around my neck. Basic principle of self bondage: nothing around the neck, ever. I was violating this principle, but I had confidence I could tie the loop so it would not get tighter. No slip knots and the pull on the neck would be limited. Uncomfortable (that's the point) but not painful or dangerous.

Pain. I wanted some pain. That was going to be tougher, pain is usually your body telling you something is injuring it, or about to be injured. There are ways to produce pain without actually injuring, but it's a fine line. For men, the best place is the testicles, For women... it's the nipples. They are sensitive and can produce a spike of pain before any real damage is done.

Once again I had failed to prepare properly. I looked around for something to invoke a little pain while bound. My boobs are large enough to be bound, but boob bondage by itself doesn't cause a lot of pain. A crotch rope? Not really, not unless combined with something. Capsaicin or something really nasty like that (applied properly it will make me sob in pain). Nope.

Just the one classic item, available in most homes and in the better hotels. Skirt or pants hangers with clips. My hotel had some. Hmmmm.

I pulled a hanger out and felt them. The clamps for the skirt were stiff. I flexed them a bit, trying to loosen them, then tentatively put one on one nipple. And yelped and took it off. Yep. Pain. Perfect. But I didn't want to do permanent damage. The clamp would cause pain, probably the right amount (which for me is a lot). But I was going to be tied up until, what.... 8pm or 9pm maybe. It was 4:45, and that might mean clamps on my nips for up to four hours. That could do damage.

I decided to wear the clamps while binding myself and then remove them just before securing my wrist. I flexed the clamps a bit more to loosen them, put one on my right nipple (ohmygod it hurt...) and then on my left nipple (ohmygod it hurt even more...), winced and looked at my naked boobs and tits clamped in the full length room mirror, bent over and wheezed from the pain, then turned to begin tying myself up.

I was ready. I decided to do the bondage on the bed. It was a king size and had plenty of room.

Everything was measured, and I looped a few items, creating the rope that would bind me. One aspect of self bondage with rope is to plan out and prepare the slip knots, loops and the like. It never works to sit trying to wrap rope around your body as you slowly tie yourself up. Some things, yes. But not the items that really need to be secure and reliable, like neck, shoulder or wrist bindings.

First to put on was a strip of rope that went around my neck. Not safe as a self bondage technique, but I had used this a number of times before and had faith I knew how. Tied to that was a strand of rope that hung down on my back, about halfway. At the end of that was a cinch loop.

The gag was easy. Similar to the night before. My panties, stuffed in my mouth. The duct tape went over my mouth, sealing in the panties. Duct tape can be rubbed off pretty easily so I wrapped it around the back of my head. That in turn wrapped around my hair (which is down to my shoulders and brown), then back to the front and around again, three or four times. When I was done, there was no way that gag was coming off.

My nipples were throbbing. The pain was bad (good).

Then came a crotch rope. Crotch ropes can be used for a bunch of things, including as an anchor for other ties such as wrists, or for keeping insertions such as dildos in, or for simple discomfort (if done tightly or with extra knots, that kind of thing). In this case I inserted a butt plug, but even large ones can come out when I struggle so the crotch rope would help keep it in. I also pulled it pretty tight so the ropes dug deep into my slit and ran right over my clit.

I was already feeling the thrill of being tied. My nipples hurt badly, my mouth was gagged tightly, and the crotch rope felt nice.

Next... a set of ropes in loops of a specific size. I slipped one up each of my legs to my thighs, just above the knee. They weren't super tight, and had a bit of slack-- this was intentional.

Now came the final move. In self bondage you can tie yourself up as much as you want, but until you fasten those wrists, you are not helpless. The last step is always securing the wrists.

For this I slipped my right arm through the loop of rope that was on my thigh. There was enough slack for this, though not a lot.The other arm slipped through the loop on the left. At this point I could have slipped back out, but I moved my arms to behind my back. This forced my legs apart and twisted the loops around my thighs quite tight.

My wrists went behind my back and found the loop hanging down from the neck loop. It was a struggle, but I managed to get my wrists inside, one at a time. A good pull to cinch the loop tight and... bam. My wrists were tied behind my back, pulled up to the neck loop. My arms were tied to my legs, pulling them apart. I was tied and helpless.

Damn it felt good.

I wriggled a bit, feeling how secure the tie was. Having my legs pulled apart was a bit humiliating, which was the point. I was bent over against my thighs, as well, forced by the thigh loops around my arms.

As I wriggled I felt the nipple clamps hurt even worse.

Oh... I had forgotten to remove the clamps... I closed my eyes and felt the intense pain in my nipples, burning. FUck.  Fuckity fuck fuck. I tried saying "Fuckity fuck fuck", but all that came out was a very soft "mmmmmmmnnnmmmm". The gag was doing it's job nicely.

OK. I could get them off. I wriggled legs around. They were held apart by my arms. Fuck. I could not get them close enough to get the damn clamps off. Oh god... once I realized I was completely helpless to remove the clamps, the pain got significantly worse. Like... fffuuuccckkkk....

God that made me wet. I wish I had some way to get a vibrator into my crotch rope instead of that butt plug. Jason had my only vibrator, I hadn't gotten it when I left. Bastard. I blamed him for this.

I continued working on it. Finally I tipped over so I was on my knees and my face was on pillows on the bed. But my arms tied to my legs kept them up and I couldn't get my breasts down against the sheets to rub them and rub off the clamps.

Well, I did succeed in getting close but the minimal rubbing action just hurt worse.

I spread my legs as wide as I could, knees pointing directly away from each other. Pushed my hips down, until my cunt was pressing against the sheets. I blessed Jason for implementing a flexibility training program for me some time before. At one time I would not have been able to do that. Now I could, and my breasts were finally on the bed, pressing, and I began moving them.

The clamps were too damn tight! I just succeeded in screaming into my gag with the agony. Looking at the clock... 6:00pm. I had up to three more hours. I did not want these clamps on that long!

I lay panting for a while. Tears were in my eyes.

I had been through more pain than this. A lot more. Jason had put me through more, I had ridden a wooden pony for hours, I had hung upside down with weights tied to my tits. I've had needles inserted under my fingernails.

It was the three hours that got me. I began rubbing again, harder, on the sheets trying to pull the clamps off. I didn't take pain for an answer, I just kept on. The right clamp shifted and moved so it was pinching just the very end of my nipple, which of course made it hurt ten times worse. I screamed into my gag again and rubbed it all the way off.

And screamed a bit more. The blood was rushing back into my poor smashed nipple. After a minute or two I started working on the other one.... and with similar pain and screams I managed to get that one off.

I lay there, moved my knees up just a bit to a more comfortable position and waited.

Clenching my ass around the butt plug I wished I had a vibrator. I was wet and ready to cum. I loved this. I was tied and there was nothing I could do about it until Estelle did her turndown service.

Yes, I know what you are thinking. "Estelle never came! Self bondage gone wrong!" Sorry to disappoint. Estelle came at about 8:30pm, entered the room and stopped, staring. I thought she knew what she was into, but apparently the sight of my ass up in the air, legs spread, and the butt plug sticking out, was enough to surprise and maybe shock her a bit.

"Miss, are you all right???" she said in a worried tone. I made muffled "mmmm" noises and she saw I was gagged.

Estelle is actually rather good looking. Younger than me, and nice dark hair. I found myself wishing she'd maybe pull out a dildo and make me cum. No such luck.

She fumbled with the gag for a bit and undid it. I spit out my panties and immediately said calmly, "Thank you Estelle. I am just fine, thank you. Thanks for making sure to come by. I'd be stuck without you."

"Miss, I worry about you. This not normal."

She started working on the ropes, which were hard to get undone. "There's a wire cutter over there," I said, indicating a table across the room.

She got it and made quick work of the ropes.

"I told my boyfriend, he say he wants you to come by, he can help tie you up. I told him no."

I smiled. Getting rid of the last strands of rope, I said, "That's kind of you Estelle, but I think I am OK for now. Though..."

I thought for a moment. "Perhaps you and I could engage in something a bit more... interesting that just the turn down service you have provided?"

Reaching out I took her hand in mine. She looked confused and slowly withdrew her hand. "Oh, miss... no... I am not... you know... lesbica."

I sighed. "All right. Well, can I count on you to come by and perform your turndown service tomorrow night?"

Estelle once again looked a bit uncomfortable. She wasn't looking at my naked body.

"Miss, my schedule, it is not for tomorrow. Maybe I work tomorrow, but it is not certain."

"Well that won't work," I laughed. "Don't want someone else barging in on what you just saw."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, Miss. Someone else might call the police."

I sighed. I was going to have to find some other way. Moving into an apartment and getting more supplies would help. And eventually, I needed a dominant. Or dominatrix. Someone that could do more than just self bondage.

"OK, Estelle. Well, listen. Call me if you change your mind."

I handed her my card, along with $100 cash tip for her services.

She looked with wide eyes and nodded. "Yes. Thank you... "

"Call me Siobhan."

"Thank you, Siobhan." She turned and left.

I ordered a late room service and ate naked watching TV.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Rediscovering Self Bondage

It's been a week since I invoked the safe word and effectively ended the slave relationship I have had with Jason.

I'm devastated. It's my responsibility, I did it, it was my choice. I didn't have to. There was nothing bad going on physically, I was locked in a leg spreading bracket, unable to move, but it didn't hurt and the discomfort was mild.

It was the mental anguish. The anguish of my owner, my husband, letting other men take me. It is honestly difficult for me to understand, because I have fucked many men in my life, some of them rather disgusting. I've allowed a guy that was probably near 60 years old to tie me up and abuse me and then fuck me any way he wanted. So what was so different about this?

Bondage and submission is just so complex. It's nuanced, it's about the subtle interplay between two people and how one gives up control to another. Power exchange, the process of letting someone else have the power. Frankly, it's in the mind.

That principle was core, is core, to the relationship I had with Jason, and yet he broke me. My mind broke, really. I ended up taking the power back.

I spent the last week in a motel, and have arranged for an apartment. I move into it this weekend.

Being alone is really, really hard. There are a couple of girlfriends, including Diane from across the street, who have spent some time with me, supporting me. She's a dear, even if she is a bit self-centered. Erin has helped a bit, but she's a hard core domme and has been only partially understanding.

The hotel is a nice place, not like a Four Seasons but better than a Motel 6, you know?  Point is it has turn down service in the evenings, which is kind of dumb for me, but hey...  Anyway.  I am working, of course, and get back to the hotel sometime around 6 - 7.

But the weirdest thing has happened here at the hotel.

I'm really going through bondage withdrawals, I am so used to being tied up and dominated and hurt, the complete absence of any bondage at all is like suddenly weening myself off opiates. I can't stand it. It's like removing Jason from my life has gutted me and not wearing a collar and cuffs or being suspended and stretched from the ceiling is just rubbing it in, making it even more painful.

To tell you the truth I was in a real depression and was circling the drain toward doing something like cutting, or some other sort of self harm. I would get to the hotel in the evening and strip, spend the entire evening naked because I was so used to coming home and conforming to Jason's rules.

I needed an outlet, something that reconnected me with my inner self and the self that had been part of me since I was quite young, long before that Bastard Jason.

So, I decided to re-engage in some of the self bondage that used to be so frequent in my teens and very early 20s, before I began really turning myself over to guys to dominate me. The technology for self bondage has advanced a lot during the last 15 years or so, but most of it is only available through the internet. I wanted to get started right away and didn't have time or space to order equipment.

I would have preferred to use cuffs, locks, straps, panel gags and harnesses, but Jason had every bit of my bondage paraphernalia. Well, his paraphernalia that he used on me. I guess it isn't mine any more.

As a result, I had to make do with some basic rope techniques. There was a Home Depot on the way back to the hotel and I stopped to get the rope the third day I was in the hotel.

To be honest, it has been a while since I did this. Tying one's self up isn't that hard, really. But tying one's self up securely in a way that makes it impossible to get free, while at the same time leaving a method or escape path to getting free-- it's a contradiction in terms that requires a bit of thought and practice. The best way to get free is to have a lock that can be undone with a timer, such as ice or a timed lockbox.

Rope is a lot tougher. You either have to leave a way to undo the tie, in which case you are not actually secured thoroughly which makes the whole thing feel like a cheat and crappy, or you have to set some barrier between you and a blade of some sort to cut the rope. Or a candle to burn through it but that is dangerous because candles can go out (I learned that at 17).

Well, I had room service steak the second night I was in the hotel and kept the steak knife. That was my way out. I put it in the bathroom, on the counter, and closed the door. I figured that would be enough of an obstacle, which it was, considering how I was going to tie myself. (That was a mistake, by the way, one I realized later. The steak knife was hard to handle and would have taken forever to cut through the rope. I should have gotten some solid wire cutters or shears when I bought the rope).

About 7:00, after I ate room service and was relaxed, I stripped down to nothing. It felt good to be naked, even if it was in private. The anticipation was enough to get me wet, and I knelt on the bed and rubbed my clit for a while with the rope laying on the bed in front of me. I stopped before cumming though, I wanted to be at full arousal for my bondage session; it was hard to stop. I hadn't had an orgasm in three days.

The first part was easy. I sat on the bed with my legs together, looped the rope into a double strand and slipped it around my ankles, back through the loop in the opposite direction and around again, cinching it tight. Then looping the rope around the center between my ankles and they were nicely secured. Easy-peasy.

Next, the same rope up to my knees, around once and hooked through the strand from the bottom, back around the opposite direction and around once in the middle, tightening. Wow, it felt good and my legs were tightly done. No way to get out of that.

The trailing length of rope from my knee tie I pushed aside and did a quick chest harness. Not too hard, just around the shoulders and above and below my breasts, then tied in front. Once my wrists were secured behind me it would be impossible to undo.

Now for the hard part. I had taken a single strand of rope and created a double cinch, a classic self-bondage set of loops that allow one to put their wrists in and then tighten. Once tightened, the rope doesn't loosen (if done properly) and you are truly secured. No way out.

The prepared double cinch rope went around the back of the chest harness and was tied there. That was a tough part, reaching back and getting that secured, but I was able to do it on the side then slip it around to the center, between my shoulder blades. No fancy knot needed, the harness served as the anchor. I might be able to get to that knot, but would require me to raise my hands all the way up behind me and that wasn't going to happen, and granny knots don't come undone once tightened.

I lay on my stomach on the bed. I was almost done. First... I stuffed my mouth with a cotton wash cloth from the background. Ugh. It was not going to be comfortable; it was going to soak up my drool inside and dry my mouth out. I gagged once putting it in. A short strip of rope went around my face and was tied behind my head to hold the gag in place.

The whole process of tying myself up was exciting me no end. I mean, it was bringing back times when I was 16 years old just learning and exploring my kink, trying new things and discovering just how sexually aroused I was by the process. And the feeling of helplessness. And later, the feelings of discomfort and actual pain that came from being tied helplessly.

Before going further I got a vibrator I had and inserted it between my legs. My knees were tied together, so my thighs were tight together. I managed to squeeze the vibrator in and turn it on. Yes.... I did not need that stimulation to get off from self bondage, it was an end in itself; but the vibrator was icing on the cake. I moaned a bit and wiggled, feeling the vibrator do it's job on my pussy.

Finally, the other end of the rope I tied to the rope between my ankles, after bending my knees to get my ankles up as far as I could. The result was a strand of rope that was tied to my chest harness at the top, and my ankles at the bottom. The cinch loops were in the middle and I was straining to keep my knees bent and as far up in back of me as possible so they wouldn't close the cinch loops and make this whole thing for nothing.

The last piece. Both wrists behind me, right above the small of my back. The cinch loops had closed some and were hard to get on. I shoved my left fingers in, being careful not to close the other loop, and wriggled in. Once the left wrist was in, I did the same with the right. It took a little effort, but finally I was in place.

All it took was for me to relax my legs and the rope behind my back pulled the cinches tight, and my wrists were inescapably tied behind me.

Holy crap. I lay there, face in the pillows of the bed, feeling the vibrator, testing the ropes, my heart beating, panting, aroused, excited, and frankly... I felt like a little girl again.

I mean, how perverted is that, right? Laying naked in a self tied hogtie in a hotel room, rocking my hips against a vibrator tucked between my legs... and I felt like a 16 year old.

My hips kept rocking back and forth rather as if I were humping someone underneath me. The gag muffled the cries of my first orgasm, which ended in tears. I am not sure why the tears, but I am not a stranger to them. But I'd never cried after a self induced orgasm, or one with a guy for that matter. It had only happened before with girls I had made love to.

Anyway, the vibrator was still going and asking if I wanted another one. I thought about it but decided I might as well try getting loose now, since this was the first time I had done this in a long time and I didn't know how long it would take me. Just damn it was fun though. I do not understand why I like being tied up and having things done to me, but I do.

Anyway, I sort of rolled over to the side of the bed and looked down. To get to the knife I was going to have to roll off the bed (I hadn't thought about that while tying myself) then squirm to the bathroom door, somehow get onto my knees and twist the handle to get the door open then crawl inside, push myself onto the toilet somehow and then knock the knife off the counter onto the floor. After which I could begin sawing away at the ropes.

It was really  obvious that I hadn't done this in a long time because my first obstacle, falling off the bed onto the floor in a hogtie position, was looking intimidating. I could break a bone. What the hell was I thinking? And I had done too good a job of tying the hogtie-- my ankles were pulled way up behind me and my back was arched, and my wrists and hands were hurting because wriggling around had tightened the cinch ties even tighter.

I whimpered a bit to myself, the vibrator relentlessly trying to get me to orgasm again, and looked over the edge of the bed again. My hair hung down toward the floor and I began the slow wriggle toward the edge. The second obstacle of opening the door was going to be ten times harder.

There was a knock on the door.

My eyes went wide and I looked at the closed hotel door.

"'scuse meeee.... turn down service... housekeeping..."

Fuck. Well, fine. I didn't care if I had turn down service, I never understood the purpose behind that anyway, except for the little chocolates they left behind. My gag was going to stop me from telling her to go away, so I lay quietly.

Then the click of an electronic lock being released and the door handle turning. FFFuuuuCCCkkkkkk she had a key and I hadn't used the deadbolt she was coming in and was going to see me all tied up fffUUUcccKKKK....

The hair was hanging over my face as I turned to look at the maid as she entered. She entered then stopped for a second.

"Hmmmmgfggggggfffff."  I said, hoping she wasn't going to scream. "Hmmmsmfffhmphhhmmm..."

She did gasp, and stay very still for a moment, then moved quickly in, the room door closing behind her with a thunk.

Well, that hurdle was over. I was stark naked and tied tight, gagged, with a buzzing vibrator between my legs, but at least she hadn't called security.

"Are you all right?" she said in a Spanish accent. She was young, maybe 25 or so, younger than me, and rather pretty. I could see her face next to mine as she knelt next to me.

I nodded, calmly, trying to give off the aura that I was Not a Victim and she should remain calm. "Mmmemmpphjh."

Reaching behind my head she worked to undo the knot of the rope that held in the cloth gag. I was drooling, of course, and suddenly wondered if she would be mad or disgusted about me expelling body fluid all over her carpet. It is so strange what we think of when in the midst of weird and panicky situations.

The vibrator kept buzzing as she worked on the knot, and I couldn't help but squeeze and thrust my hips a couple of times. I mean, really... it felt good!

The nice maid had a lot of trouble with my knot. It must have been tighter than I thought, or she just wasn't used to knots, but she finally got it off. She pulled the cloth out of my mouth and I worked my jaw and tongue getting rid of the dry cloth-y taste and feel.

"Thank you, please don't be upset, I am not in trouble or anything, this is just..." My voice trailed off. How was I going to explain this?

"Do you want me to untie you?" she said hesitantly. That was a weird question to ask someone you encountered that was all tied up, and I realized this maid had probably seen a lot of weird stuff in her time being a hotel maid.

"Yes, yes, please. I have a knife in the bathroom I was going to use to cut the ropes, but..."

She began working on the knot of my chest harness.

"A knife? What good would it do in the bathroom? How did this happen? Who did this to you? Will... will he be coming back?" She said worriedly.

I shook my head as she finally got the harness knot untied and began unwrapping me.

"Can you remove the vibrator, please?"

She hesitated, looked between my legs then shook her head. "Please, ma'am, I would rather you do that."

She continued undoing knots. "Who did this to you?" she said again, still worried.

"I did it to myself," I explained. "I... tied myself up. Self bondage. People do it sometimes, it is a kind of kink."

She nodded. "I know many kinks. My boyfriend, he likes to use handcuffs when he fucks me. I... um, I don't like it so much."

She got another knot undone and it was easy for me to being unwrapping the ropes myself.

"Yeah. I like being tied up. When there is no guy to tie me up, I ..um... do it myself. I'm really sorry. Really..."

She stood back as I finished unwrapping ropes.

"Oh, it's OK. One time I found four guests all wrapped up together in bed. They tried to get me to join then, but... " she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And I seen stuff before. My boyfriend, he watches the porno on the internets."

"Yeah. Well, I still apologize. Though you really saved me a lot of effort. Looking at the door, I think you are right, it would have been pretty hard for me to open it when I was tied up."

Actually, I was realizing I was probably damned lucky she had shown up. I had mis-estimated how much I could do while tied up.

"Look... " I looked at her name tag. "Estelle. Can I give you a tip if you won't tell anyone about this?"

I had moved to my purse, still naked. It didn't seem to bother her much, and I got the idea she had a little more experience with her boyfriend than she was telling me about. Pulling out two twenties, I gave them to her.

"I appreciate your helping and," I paused meaningfully, "your discretion."

She tucked the $40 in her maid's dress pocket and smiled. "Of course."

A thought struck me. "Say, Estelle. Do you always do turn down service on this floor?"

She nodded. "Si, Monday through Saturday, each evening."

I smiled, and nodded. "Well, I appreciate the service you provided tonight. Perhaps... you might be able to render me the same service tomorrow night."

She looked at me sideways, and I could tell she was fingering the forty bucks in her pocket.

"In fact, I think I would be very grateful, and you could expect another tip." I said.

Estelle nodded. "OK, ma'am. I come and do turn down service. I knock on every door. No answer, I come in, do turn down. I do this room too. Tomorrow."

I gently guided Estelle to the door. "That would be wonderful. My gratitude would be... very significant. Until tomorrow, then?"

I wanted her gone, I was so aroused by the situation, being discovered, the bondage, this cute maid, it all had come together and I swear I was flushing. I wanted to masturbate and she was keeping me from it.

"Thank you ma'am." She exited the door then stopped just as the door was closing. "Oh, and ma'am?"

She handed me two chocolates.

I think I had just discovered my self bondage escape timer.

During this whole evening, I hadn't thought about Jason once.

Monday, November 20, 2017

Safe Word

I don't know what to say. I guess it has been building for a while, and the shit hit the fan a couple of days ago.

A week ago things seemed to be slipping back into the old pattern. I was not allowed clothes at home, and Jason took me any way he wanted. His fucking has been a bit more aggressive and I had been sore from it, but that is very much normal for us and for me. I've been sore from a lot of things in my life, including dildos that were never intended to actually be inserted into a vagina. Having Jason grab me and force me down, taking me from behind and ramming roughly... it's normal.

And fun. I mean, this is what I have loved. I want to be submissive, I want my partner to control me, to use me. When he isn't tying me up I feel like something is wrong and a bit lost.

I know, I know. I am a sick puppy. I can't feel normal unless I know I am being abused and mistreated and restrained and used in some way.

The one thing that changed a bit was a sort of bracket bondage device that Jason got. I've been locked in devices of one sort or another many times. This one was a bit new. It had a sort of flat base where it rests on the ground, then a post in the back. There are two cuffs on the side of the post. My ankles go there.

Then from the post is a metal arm sticking forward. There are two metal cuffs on that, both rather loose. They have latches but frankly they don't need it given the position of the victim (me). The real thing that makes it inescapable is at the far end of the metal arm. Another metal loop, a collar.

The first evening I saw this, Jason took me into the play room and it was on the floor. He had set it up earlier in the evening.

"Siobhan, this is where you will be spending the night tonight."

"Yes, sir," I said. I wasn't happy about spending an entire night bracketed in something, it can cause cramping and loss of sleep, which impacts my job. On the other hand, it is my role in the marriage and I am obedient.

"Lay on your stomach on the base." Once I had laid down with the upright post between my legs near my pussy, Jason bent my knees and closed the ankle cuffs. The metal was cold on my stomach and ankles.

"Arms behind you," Jason instructed. He pulled my arms up, which created a mild strappado position with elbows close to each other and held in place with the brackets. At this point I was fairly secure, though the elbow and wrist cuffs were rather loose and with some struggling I probably could have gotten out.

Except then... Jason grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. The last piece slipped around my neck and clicked shut. That did it. Unable to move forward or back because of the stiff, unyielding position of my neck, the other restraints were inescapable.

"Am I to remain here all night, sir?" I asked.

"Yes. Tonight, and every night. I am instituting a new regimen of discipline to help you learn complete, unquestioning obedience. When you truly accept your position and owned property then we may move to another arrangement."

"Yes sir." I said.

"Mouth open." I opened my mouth and he inserted a ring gag with an inflatable insert. He pumped it up until my mouth was full, and left me there.

All night. Unable to move. Certainly not the first time, but it doesn't make it any easier. The thing that really got me was the collar, which held my head up off the ground and back slightly. I simply could not sleep in that position. If I relaxed too much the weight of my head pushed down on the collar and I choked. Not badly, but enough to keep me from sleeping.

The next day was hard. No sleep makes me a grouch and I chewed out a couple of people at work for reconfiguring some network security parameters without announcing to users. I got home and fixed dinner (naked, of course). It was burned because I was dead on my feet.

Jason punished me for the burned dinner. I have a leg and wrist spreader that does a remarkably effective job of keeping me immobile with my ass up, and he locked me in there and caned me. Twelve strokes. Painful, leaving some nasty welts.

An hour later I was in the bracket again for the night.

Three days of this and I was exhausted. After a couple of nights of no sleep I was so tired I fell asleep in the bracket in spite of the collar digging into my neck. I didn't say anything to Jason because... well, the whole point of the training was to make me more compliant. Compliance was the only way out of it.

Then came Saturday, roughly 5 pm.

I was naked and standing in the waiting displayed position. That's a pedestal in the bedroom. When I am not needed Jason will sometimes tell me to wait there. My wrists were cuffed behind my back and I simply stood and waited. It's unpleasant because I have to stand and the pedestal is small, not allowing much movement. You should try it sometime-- just stand in one place, not moving your feet anywhere, for a half hour and see how tired your body becomes.

Of course, I was also in five inch heels (my only clothing), which made it harder to stand in one place for a long time.

The doorbell rang, which sent a chill through my stomach. That's a new reaction, but since the last couple of times Jason has had friends over, I have become afraid of visitors.

There were a couple of voices in the living room. I stayed in my waiting position. A few minutes later Jason came in and silently blindfolded me, then led me out of the room. It was a relief to be able to move and walk, but I was scared.

The living room smelled of smoke. At least one of his guests was smoking. I was standing in the living room, naked, with several of his friends observing me. They made comments-- approving of my body, asking Jason what I was like as a fuck, what kinds of torture he administered. This wasn't the first time I had been exposed in front of his friends. I spent an entire superbowl standing naked and hooded in the living room once. But I had a different vibe about this one.

The rape from a week before, combined with the fact these guys were here specifically to see and interact with me, made me scared to death. I think I began shaking.

"Knees, Siobhan," barked Jason. I sank to my knees (wrists still cuffed behind me). "Mouth open!"

I opened my mouth, not knowing what would be inserted into it. I couldn't see anything or anyone though I could hear them talking. Mostly about me. My knees were kicked wider apart so the men could see my cunt more easily. I kept my mouth open in an O.

Someone stuck fingers inside my mouth, running them around, checking my teeth as if I were a horse. They were then shoved deeper inside, pressing on the back of my tongue and I gagged, but managed to keep my mouth open as instructed. I felt a strand of stringy slime following the fingers and dripping over my chin when they were removed.

They were warming me up. I knew what was coming, it had happened a week before when I had been raped by one of his buddies and there had been absolutely nothing I could do about it.

"Let's get to it, then," Jason said, laughing as he fondled one of my breasts. He pushed me down until my head and stomach were on the floor, kicked my legs apart and barked, "Knees!"

I pulled my knees up under my hips, which had the effect of pushing my ass up in the air. Fingers invaded my cunt as Jason began working with my wrists and ankles. He unlocked my wrists and pushed my arms underneath and back between my legs on the floor.

As soon as I felt the cold metal touch me I knew what was coming.

I wasn't gagged (yet) and I felt like I had to say something. "Jason, I don't want to be passed around with your friends."

He ignored me, and I felt the cold steel pressing against my ankles and wrists simultaneously. He was placing me in the punishment spreader, a metal bar that spread my ankles out about three feet wide. This was combined with securing my wrists in the middle. The position shoved my ass up in the air, and completely disabled me. I couldn't even crawl in that position.

"Please, Jason. I am your slave, not theirs. I don't know these guys." It was true, too. I didn't recognize any of their voices.

He pulled my blindfold off and said, "Take a look. Now you know them."

I looked around at a set of guys I didn't know. Five of them, plus Jason. My stomach was tied in knots, cramps, butterflies, and I think I was still drooling from the fingers and hadn't bothered to try and stop it. I literally could not do anything but lay there with my head on the floor and my ass up in the air, legs spread.

"Let me get her warmed up for you," Jason said.

"Jason, please! Don't do this!" I begged.

"Awww, the bitch doesn't like it," said one of the men, a balding short guy that looked like the CEO where I worked.

"She's going to put a damper on this with all her whining. Let me take care of this," Jason said. He shoved a ball gag in my mouth, one of the big ones, and buckled it behind my head.

"Obedience, Siobhan," Jason whispered in my ear as he grabbed my head and tilted me back so I was sitting on my ass, back resting on his chest. My arms and legs were pulled up in front of me, and my cunt exposed for the other men to see. One of those men was already undoing his pants and taking out his cock, stroking it.

Jason held me from behind and massaged my pussy. It felt good, I have a very sensitive clit and pussy and it doesn't take much to get me off. In spite of the situation I moaned and leaned my head back on him as he rubbed, starting off slow and making circles.

"Hahahaha... she likes that though, Matt," one of the men said to another. "Look, it's shiny down there, think she's getting wet."

A couple of the men knelt down to get a better look at where Jason was rubbing me.

I can't help it. Bondage and humiliation gets me off. I was bound and bracketed, unable to move or do anything, and was being used. It got me off. I was aroused, getting wet. Moaning. I didn't want these guys to rape me, but then this was an incredibly hot scene and Jason was forcing me to become aroused in it.

"Who goes first? Want her on her back, or on her knees?" Jason had warmed me up enough.

I sat there, arms and legs immobile, gagged, looking around at the strange and somewhat ugly men that were about to gang rape me. I hadn't been crying. Not yet.

"I wanna go," said a short, dark, hairy guy. He already had his cock out and it was hard. "On her back. I wanna see her face."

I closed my eyes. Jason attached a rope hanging from an eye bolt in the ceiling and lifted my spreader bracket up into the air, getting my feet out of the way of my cunt. I tipped over onto my back (not much I could do about that, it just happened).

Dark hairy guy licked his fingers and shoved them in my pussy, then followed with his cock. I moaned, shook my head and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at him.

Some of the guys took chairs and exposed themselves, stroking hard cocks, and a couple stood near to where I was getting banged by the dark hairy one. He was pounding really hard, but the rope on my spreader bracket kept my legs and arms in the air and my body relatively stable. When he finished he pulled out and sprayed it all over my stomach.

"Fuck.... fuck.... she's good... dammit I liked that, Jason. Your slave is a fine fuck."

"Next?" Jason asked. Bald guy stood. He had removed his pants and was naked from the waist down.

Bald guy was overweight and had a big fat stomach. He knelt below me, and tried to get his cock in but his stomach got in the way. I closed my eyes once again to pretend I was somewhere else until Jason undid the rope and grabbed the bracket, tipping me over so I was on my knees instead of my back.

Fat bald guy was able to get inside me then and he pounded away, my head jerking and bouncing on the carpet where it lay. This was only the second guy and I was getting sore already. I felt his balls slapping my clit and his stomach slapping the top of my ass as he took me violently.

Fat guy came inside me and the way he was huffing and puffing I thought he was going to die of a heart attack.

"Can I take her in the ass?" Said the third guy. He was a tall, skinny, ugly guy.

"Yes, That's an extra $20," Jason said.

"No problem," skinny ugly said.

Ball gag make it harder to be understood and muffle speech somewhat, but they don't stop you. At hearing what Jason said, I cried out, "Mffoooo aaatth theeellling meee???" It was messed up, but Jason could understand ball gag speech. He knew very well I had asked, "you are selling me???"

Skinny ugly guy shoved it in my ass without further ado; my ass cheeks were already spread wide from the leg spreader, but he grabbed and pulled them wider apart. I grunted and screamed as his cock spread me unexpectedly. Hard anal fucking is a punishment for me, that Jason has used more than once. It can be quite painful, unless I am lubed and ready and relaxed, which I was not.

Tears were flowing now and I was looking at Jason standing and watching skinny ugly has he shoved and grunted his way to orgasm inside my ass.

Thank god it didn't take him long or I think I would have gotten a prolapse or started bleeding badly. When he was ready to cum, skinny ugly pulled out and moved to where my face was laying on the carpet and jerked off on my head. Gobs of cum slid down my face onto the carpet. I lay quietly and let the guy have his orgasm at my expense, staring blankly ahead of me.

"Thathon. Ooo thon't geth thooo thell meee." I said through the gag. "Jason, you don't get to sell me."

"You are my property, and I get to do anything with you I like," Jason said, and motioned for another guy to come take his turn.

This guy was a greasy black haired ratty looking person. He pulled his cock out of his pants through his zipper, just exposing his cock. Apparently he was shy. Kneeling behind me he slid inside my cunt and slowly began moving in and out. He didn't go in deep, he kept the head of his cock right around the opening to my vagina, slowly moving in and out.

I growled at Jason. "No, Jason. Stop this now. I am not OK with this."

There was a flash of light. The other men were taking videos or still pictures with their phones. I turned my head away. My head was the only part of my body I had control over.

"Don't make me gag you with duct tape, Siobhan," Jason said.

I was no longer nervous. I was no longer scared. I was terrified, and angry, and sad, and my world was crashing. I was Jason's submissive. I was owned by him. I had devoted my life to him, and made a promise to let him do whatever her pleased. It was my duty to accept this. It was part of my chosen lifestyle. It was fundamental to what I wanted.

I lay there, my mind swirling, my stomach cramping from the fourth rape that day, but mostly because I was about to do something that I had never considered was possible.

Tears were flowing down my face, I was sobbing. I love Jason. I love him so much, he has been the one person in my life that has given me everything that I need. Not just want. Need. I need to be restrained, bound, humiliated, suffering, used for someone else's pleasure. I can't imagine not being that way.

Ratty guy was getting close, I could tell. It wasn't easy for him, he had to work at it, finding just the right way to use my body for his maximum stimulation, but he was getting there. He finally made a small gasping noise and I could feel his cum flooding out of my pussy and down, dripping onto the floor. He had not cum deeply inside, in fact he might have only had the head of his cock inside me.

"Don't... don't make me do this, Jason," I pleaded.

He ignored me. "You next, Farley. Which hole do you want?"

"Oh, her cunt for sure, but let her drain some of Pedro's cum out first."

I looked up at Jason and said it.

The safe word.

"Divorce!"

OK, it actually sounded like "Thithorthe".

Jason looked at me, his head tilted sideways. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Thithorthe!!" I called out from behind the gag.

Jason knelt beside me, holding off the last guy, Farley I guess was his name. God, I would never willingly fuck a guy named Farley...

He undid my ball gag. "Say that again?"

"I want a divorce," I said, sobbing.

Jason stood up slowly, then turned to the others. "OK, sorry guys. That's all."

Farley protested. "Wait a minute. I paid my hundred bucks, just like those guys, I want my share of--"

"Put it back in your pants, Farley. I will give you your money back. Now get out."

After more grumbling and swearing, all the guys left and Jason unshackled me from the spreader bar.

"OK," he said.

"I'm sorry, Jason, I just... just... I can't take it having you just ... give me to other guys. I begged you, tried to tell you."

"Save it Siobhan. You know the deal. You were my property to do with as I pleased. Until you invoked the safe word. As of right now, we are no longer married, you are a free woman. I no longer hold any authority over you."

He lifted my chin to look up at him. "Nor do I want to. Go upstairs. You can sleep in the guest bedroom tonight. Pack your things and be out by Sunday afternoon at 6 pm."

Sobbing I went upstairs, took a shower to wash off the semen of four strange men, got dressed inside the house for the first time in several weeks, and went to the guest bedroom.

That was two days ago.

I am in a hotel now, trying to figure out what to do. I've been crying non-stop, almost, for those two days. I didn't want to leave Jason. I want Jason. That's the point. I would do anything for him, except... be with someone else. Subject myself to other men. Especially... not be sold to other men.

I am lost, completely. My home with Jason had been a known, secure place that was my life. Even if I was bound, punished, used, suffering, the abuse and suffering was because I chose it and it was what I wanted.

Now what do I do?