Sunday, November 19, 2017

Shared and Used

Something bad is happening and I don't understand it. I've tried to deal with it, push it aside, accept and be a good submissive, but it has remained in the back of my mind and won't go away.

I like my limits pushed. In fact, I entered into my marriage and slave relationship with Jason with the understanding that there would be no limits. That he was my owner and I was his property. (Yes, there is a safe word that I have never used).

It was the most exciting step I had ever taken in my life, born out of love for him and the passionate desire to explore my craving for bondage, subservience, and pain. Being a Slave Bride was core to my being, and it has been the most fulfilling, exciting, erotic, satisfying experience I could imagine.

In all the things Jason has done to me over the years, I submitted and have been happy to. He has hurt me, made me suffer, kept me tied and immobile for hours at a time, whipped me, shocked me, forced me to work as a pony girl in front of others. I haven't been happy about all of this but accepted it all because it is part of my submission to him and that is important to me.

I want to be owned and used by him, regardless of whether I like it or not. In fact, if he only did things I liked, it wouldn't be true submission, would it?

Something has made me quite upset recently though, and I am having trouble processing it.

Jason's been suspending me a lot recently, some of it in very stressful positions. Yeah, it's been painful and has even resulted in a pulled muscle or just some longer recovery periods. I don't mind this, in fact it can be a core part of what is exciting about his bondage. Suspension makes me feel incredibly vulnerable and helpless, which is what I crave down deep. Not knowing how far it will go, how much pain I will endure, it all just makes the whole experience more exciting.

And it has reinforced my complete submission and slavery to him.

The first real, solid hint of what I was feeling was wrong and what was coming happened last Thursday, a week ago.

Jason had placed me in a very stressful suspension position. It happened in the playroom.

It was after dinner, about 7:30 PM. "OK, Siobhan. Go to the playroom and lay down on your stomach and wait for me there."

"Yes, sir."

I went there. I was already naked, having stripped as soon as I come home. We are currently in a phase were I am not allowed clothes inside the house, except for my collar and perhaps wrist and ankle cuffs. There was a mat laying on the floor underneath two of the hooks he had installed for suspension, so I knew what was coming. My heart was beating faster, anticipating the possibility of being hung from the ceiling and experiencing some stress and perhaps pain.

After about 10 minutes I heard the doorbell ring and someone came in. The playroom is soundproof so I can scream without disturbing the neighbors, but I had left the door open. Jason greeted someone and the two of them came into the playroom. It was his friend Mark.

Jason's done this a couple of times before-- had male friends of his observe me while tied and submissive. It's humiliating, which... well, I guess is exciting for me. I like being humiliated because it increases my feeling of helplessness.

"Arms behind your back, Siobhan," Jason ordered as he entered the room with Mark.

I obeyed, turning my head away so I didn't have to see Mark observing me. My hands went behind my back, wrists crossed.

Jason used rope to tie my wrists together tightly, then slipped the trailing end up around my neck and pulled up. This raised my wrists up to the small of my back and maybe a bit higher. Not uncomfortable, but it's a tie that keeps my hands away from my ass so it can be whipped. It was his typical secure job-- there was no way I would get out of the tie.

Jason rolled me over onto my back with my wrists underneath me. Another length of rope went around. Mark was standing by watching with fascination. He had never seen me naked before, though he was aware of my special slave status. I turned my head the other way.

The next stage of the bondage; Jason slipped another rope around my neck. It was worrisome feeling two loops of rope around my neck. I've been choked a number of times, even hung briefly, so it isn't unfamiliar to me but it can be scary.

The rope around my neck was looped around my knees, and cinched tight. This brought my knees up toward my neck, bending my body. My breasts pushed against my thighs and Mark moved around to observe my now very exposed pussy and ass.

I was kind of scared, a feeling I am not unfamiliar with but it is still... scary. The rope around my knees went around several times, with perhaps four or five loops tied back around my neck. The loop around my neck was just to keep my body in the folded position, the real strength and foundation of the tie was on the knees.

The doorbell rang again.

"Would you get that, Mark? Bring them in here."

"What?" I said. I was not gagged-- yet. "Who is coming? Jason?"

He ignored me.

A heavy cable with a hook at the end was threaded through a small pulley in the ceiling above me. It had been there for a while. Jason brought the hook down and placed it under the ropes that went around my knees. That was where the suspension would be.

Mark brought in two other guys; friends of Jason that I knew only slightly. One was named Patrick, the other I didn't know his name. I was in the process of being raised into the air as they entered, and Jason greeted them. It was clear this had been arranged. They had been invited over to observe me being bound and disciplined.

The position was weird, but not terribly uncomfortable, not like some of the previous suspensions. Mostly... it was designed to immobilize me and expose my genitals in a very convenient way. My head had no support and so if I didn't hold it up it flopped back to look at the ceiling.

Jason spun me around a couple of times, making me dizzy.

"Oh... fuck..." I moaned. Disorienting me like that was a terrible feeling.

"She doesn't like that," said the guy that I didn't know.

"Oh, she gets off on it," Jason said. "Touch her."

Patrick reached out and slid his fingers over my pussy. I said nothing, though it was distressing to have some guy touch me.

Jason was undoing his pants. I was hanging so my cunt was at waist height, and I realized why now. Easy access. The position was getting uncomfortable, though not painful. This is typical in suspension or any tight tie. Jason took hold of my hips and straightened my body out, positioning it. He then slid his cock in. I was dry and it hurt a bit, he gets really hard and can shove himself into me any time he wants, lube or not.

I gasped and he started fucking me, driving in and out. It was totally weird to be hanging there, three of his friends watching him fuck me. I didn't like it, I felt embarrassed, exposed and humiliated. But that's what I like, right? It gets me off, as he said.

Well, he fucked me good and hard. I didn't orgasm from it, I think having his friends watch made me too self conscious. It didn't feel good. He did cum inside me, and a couple of the guys sort of cheered when he did.

"Anyone else?" Said Jason.

"What?" I said, my eyes opening wide. "Jason..."

"I want to. Is it OK?" Mark said. I knew Mark. I had never been in a sexual position with him, though.

I have to explain something here. My being a slave to Jason has involved play with others. It's mutual play, where we have paired up with another couple and essentially played with them. Our neighbors, Erin and Jack, are in a D/s relationship and Jason actually had me stay with them for a weekend while he was out of town, and Erin disciplined and tormented me. It was a lot of fun.

We've also had a sort of swinging / wife swapping thing going on with the couple across the street, who are not into BDSM but they have toyed with things and enjoyed playing with us a bit.

What was going on here was a little different. I was hanging immobile, and he had invited his friends over to observe me being tormented and fucked. That was... different. Not quite the same as engaging with mutual friends in a play environment. But I didn't understand how it was different. It was just a real surprise to me when Jason told Mark he could fuck me.

And he did. His cock is big, bigger than Jason's, but I had Jason's cum inside me and it lubed me well. Mark stripped his pants off, and he was hard, of course. He grabbed my hips and pushed that wide cock into me, stretching me. It felt really different. I've had sex with dozens of men in my life, but since marrying and enslaving myself, only... well, probably only one other than Jason and that was Steve from across the street. That was during a mutual wife swap thing that was agreed to and expected by me.

So when Mark shoved in, it was the first new and unexpected cock I had inside me for some time. I bounced around in my suspension as he thrust, it was a bit painful. I grunted and moaned, my head fell back, my neck tired from holding it up. He took his sweet time thrusting deep inside me, he even grabbed my ass cheeks and spread them, wide, and started probing my anus with his fingers.

He finally dumped his load in me, and with drew.

"She is fantastic," he told Jason.

"I know, right?" Jason said, grinning.

"Jason..." I said. "Please... can I come down?"

"Anyone else?" Jason said, offering me to his friend Patrick and the other guy who's name I didn't know.

Patrick declined, embarrassed I think. He probably had never had sex with a woman in front of other guys before. But the guy I didn't know, a tall thin dark guy that looked like an Italian, stepped up and pulled out his cock.

My eyes were staring at Jason, and I begged. "Please... Jason... can you please let me down? Don't make me do this..."

He ignored me. In fact, he spread my pussy lips for this guy to enter me. I stopped begging because it was clear it wouldn't do any good and I hung there and let this guy rape me.

I didn't let him. There really was nothing I could do about it. I was simply being fucked by a guy I didn't know with the permission of my husband and owner.

"She's fucking slippery," the guy said as he was shoving in and out.

"She's got two loads in her. You want to use her ass instead?" Jason said.

I flushed, my head flopped back and I bit my lip as my body bounced back and forth in the suspension. The guy was grunting as he was pushing, and doing it really hard and fast.

He was breathing hard, gasping and managed to get out, "No... no... too close... fuck..."

A minute later he came.

Semen was dribbling down into my anus from my cunt and I felt wet all around that area. In fact you could hear the sloppy slapping from this last guy as he pounded into me.

I really did feel like a complete piece of meat.

"Fuck man, that was good, thank you Jason. I hope she doesn't get too mad at you." The guy was using a paper towel to clean himself. We keep a roll in the play room to clean up body fluids that spill, which is fairly common. I drool like a water fountain when gagged and we've had everything from shit, urine and blood to semen over the floor and on me and him.

I hung silently, listening to Jason and his friends talking about my body, my cunt, how good a fuck I was. I was slowly rotating back and forth while they cleaned up and put their pants back on and finally left the room.

Of course, I just stayed there, slowly swinging back and forth. As with most bondage and suspension positions it had gotten stressful over time and I was hoping Jason would come let me down soon.

It was about an hour later he came in and let me down.

"You made me proud Siobhan. My friends really enjoyed you."

"Jason, didn't you hear me pleading with you? Letting some of your random friends fuck me is just... not... I didn't like it."

"Well, you don't like to do a lot of the things I like. That's your role, to suffer for me and do as I say. If I want to share you, then that's what will happen."

"But Jason, really. I am yours. I am not their's. The whole point is that... I am owned by you. You can do anything you want to me. But when you let others do things to me, especially fuck me... it just doesn't feel right."

Jason frowned at me. "Do I need to discipline you? Perhaps a night hanging upside down would teach you some obedience."

"Jason, there is no need to punish me. I just... this doesn't feel right and it... hurt me inside. Not on the outside, but inside."

"Siobhan, you need an attitude adjustment."

"What? No! Please, no Jason, please don't punish me. I am just talking to you. Expressing my feelings. I obeyed, they fucked me, there is no need to punish me."

He was already kneeling before me, tying my ankles together.

"Please Jason. Please don't punish me! Please, sir. I will be good. You can let anyone fuck me any time. Oh, god, no, don't punish me!"

"You had better sit down, or you will end up falling over when I pull up on this rope," he said. My ankles were tied and secured to a rope that went to the pulley overhead.

"Sir, please, I have done nothing! My attitude will change, please sir... please.. make me eat your shit, or drink urine... or... anything... just don't leave me upside down overnight!"

I was saying this as I sat down, because I really did not want my legs pulled out from under me.

My ankles went up into the air, my legs lifting up. I continued to beg as he pulled me higher, my ass rising up.

"Oh god, no, please..." I was crying.

"Dear, this is just something you need that will help you in the long run. Some discipline now, and you will be more compliant in the future," Jason said as my waist went up and my shoulders slid across the mat.

I stopped begging, knowing it would do no good and he might just get angrier.

My head left the ground and I was upside down.

It isn't the first time I had been upside down in my life, its happened a number of times, as a matter of fact. It can be a scary experience if you aren't prepared for it, and it certainly is not something that I can take for long periods of time. The blood floods to your head, you get dizzy and disoriented, and while it isn't necessarily painful (except for the inevitable headache), it can be extremely uncomfortable.

Jason pushed me and let me swing back and forth a couple of times before leaving the room. I was alone, suspended upside down and suffering for my disobedient and negative attitude. I would learn. This was part of my training to be a complete submissive.

I was nothing but meat hanging in the back storeroom of a meat shop. Something to be used.

He didn't leave me up all night. He took me down after an hour or so, very close to bedtime. My head was pounding and the headache lasted through to the next day. I went to work, but was pretty grumpy to the people who work for me.

I've been thinking a lot about what happened. I gave myself to Jason. I am owned by him. If he wants to let others touch me, in any way he wishes, I need to adjust my attitude and be accepting. I gave up my free will to him.

It's just... hard. Really hard.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Suspension Stress

Suspension is it's own unique experience. Not touching the ground, being above it and dangling, creates interesting psychological reactions. Inverted bondage has it's own unique aspects; discomfort from having the blood rush down, the pressure in your head, the complete disorientation.

It boils down to the feeling of helplessness that is enforced by the natural feeling of peril from being hung above the ground. That feeling of peril enhances the feeling of vulnerability which is such a turn on to me. The specially unique feeling of complete helplessness when upside down. The knowledge that I could fall is exciting. The feeling of my body swaying when I struggle, being free and yet still strictly in restraints-- it all comes together to create a fantastic experience.

I guess you can tell I do enjoy suspension when done right.

I've not been suspended upside down too often, just a few times, but each time it was an incredible turn on. Utter helplessness, the disorientation and discomfort, combined with the sensual and sexual stimulation.

Suspension is also one way to make almost the entire body available for my dominant to touch and manipulate. I can't hide my cunt, and I can't cover my back, my head and neck and face are right there, as are my breasts, stomach, ass, feet... whatever someone wants to get to. All with minimal bondage.

The other really unique thing about suspension is feeling my entire weight on whatever part of me is tied. Wrists, ankles, waist-- 135 pounds of dead weight pulling on me as if weights were attached, except the weights are me.

Why am I writing about suspension? Because he has been experimenting with it. Of course, when he experiments, it is me he experiments with.

He read that book by Anne Rice, the one about Sleeping Beauty but she ends up being dominated as a submissive. It's kind of mild and silly in places, but he got one idea from it. He wanted to suspend me from my arms and legs, both tied up high so my ass and pussy are available and exposed.

There are several things that have to be done right with suspension. First of all, the rope needs to be soft and pliable enough that it doesn't cut too deeply into the flesh. Unless you want it too, of course. Second, the tie has to be reliable and not slip. Weight needs to be balanced and because of the significant amount of weight being placed on the tie points, the tie can't slip and constrain. If a full 135 pounds of weight were to be placed on a slip knot that tightened around my wrist or ankle, the result would be a tourniquet. No blood flow. Permanent damage.

The balance on the tie has to be well done; even if the knot is proper, having only one point of suspension can create strain and problems. Kind of like when Jason suspended me by only one wrist recently. I came close to a nasty sprain. The troublesome thing was that Jason wanted to hurt me, that was the purpose of the tie from one arm only; to put the maximum strain on one arm.

The anchor points from which the ropes are secured need to be solid. Eye bolts solidly screwed into a solid wood beam or similar.

And of course, there has to be a way to lift me. Jason has struggled with pulling me up once tied, because he has used just eye bolts. It's a little scary to be lifted off the floor and hanging there while your husband and owner is sweating and straining to pull on the ropes. The higher you get, the scarier it is. I wish he would use a pulley or something, but I think he likes the idea of my body hanging from just a raw bolt in the ceiling.

The technique Jason used to imitate the hanging in the novel was to lay me on the floor and tie four ropes; one to each of my wrists and ankles. It is safer to tie the ropes to leather bondage cuffs, which he did once, but he has decided he prefers to inflict the extra discomfort of direct rope ties on my extremities.

It's his decision, I am his slave.

The first time he did this to me, he tied my wrists and ankles separately and threaded the rope through two different bolts in the ceiling. The bolts were spread apart by five feet or so. My left ankle and left wrist went through one eye bolt, the right ankle and wrist through another.

I was naked of course, laying on the floor with the ropes tied but loose until he began pulling on them. He pulled the left side first, and my leg went up (making me do the splits) and then my arm. He stopped when I was hanging sideways, my right arm and leg still touching the floor but my body lifted up a foot or so.

Then it was time for my right side, and up went my arm and leg toward the ceiling and my body completely lost contact with the floor. I was nervous, but I had been suspended many times before so it wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

Jason moved back and forth between my left and right side, lifting, until I was about four feet off the floor. Because of the position of the two eye bolts, my arms and legs were split wide apart. I swung back and forth slightly as I hung.

"How does it feel?" Jason asked.

"Stressful," I answered. "It isn't that bad, the strain is mostly on my lower back. It's the way my body is curved."

In response, Jason felt my breasts and stomach, and even pressed down on my stomach a bit. Yeah, the place where the most strain was. I grunted.

"Ugh, that's.... the... oof..."

He fingered my clit as I wobbled back and forth.

Weird thing about that position, my head was hanging free with no support. It isn't terribly painful, but to relax my neck meant my head would fall back so I was looking at the wall behind me. That isn't comfortable so I would raise my head, but that requires constantly lifting my head. My neck would get tired and fall back after a while.

So basically, my head was going up and down while I hung there.

Jason felt me up, felt my pussy. "You are such a slut, you are wet."

"Yeah... I know..." I said. I know this. I get off on bondage. I really do. It comes from years of doing it, since I was a young teen. Sex for me means bondage. Bondage means sex. Tie me up, make me hurt, and I get wet.

He fucked me hard, holding my hips to keep me from swinging away.

When he was done fucking me, he left me hanging there and went off to watch TV for a couple of hours. His cum stayed inside me, because with my legs up in the air the angle of my vagina was tilted and kept it in.

That first time was a trial, in a way. The next time he suspended me in this position, my legs and wrists were tied together and the ropes lifted into a single eye bolt above. I swear, when he pulls me up and all my weight is hanging from my extremities, I really get an idea of just how heavy I am. I'm not fat, I am skinny actually, bust still I am taller and weigh plenty.

Then staring at the one bolt above me, holding all my weight, and just praying that it isn't going to give way. It scares me. This whole suspension thing has scared me. I've come as close to serious injury being suspended as from anything else.

So there I was, naked and hanging with my arms and legs tied together. In that position he pushed me and my body began swinging around in a clockwise direction.


"Oh... oh... dammit... oh god that is making me sick..."

"Let's try the other way," he said.

He pushed me around and I started going counter clockwise.

"Oh... oh god... I am going to be sick," I said.

"Well, let me get something," was his response. He slid a plastic trash bag over the floor under me. It was a big black one for the outside trash can, split it open and spread underneath me.

"Easier cleanup if you do barf," he said. I felt a pang in my stomach, a desperation that comes when I know he doesn't care if I hurt or get sick, that he is actually liking it. Things get unpredictable then. I have no idea how far they will go.

He spun me around, the ropes above me twisting around and around. I was groaning. He kept twisting me turning me and the rope above me was getting bunched and twisted up it had been turned so many times.

Finally he stopped and said, "ready?"

"Oh... god," was all I said. "Please no..."

And he let go. I began to spin around the opposite way, the ceiling and world spinning in my eyes. The twisted rope was undoing the tension and making me spin around the opposite direction.

"Fuck..." I said and suddenly felt my stomach heave, just a tiny bit. Spinning around like that was incredibly disorienting, and I had never experienced anything like it before. Vomit rose up and a tiny bit trickled down my cheek.

My head was leaning back, I couldn't keep it up when I was feeling that way, and a bit of the vomit went back down and into my lungs. This is dangerous, because if you aspirate your own vomit, you can choke and die. It was only a little bit but as I continued spinning I was coughing and choking.

When the rope hit the unwound position the momentum of my spin continued to wind it up in the opposite direction. Jason pushed, helping me along and tensioning the rope again.

This went on for maybe 15 minutes, and when I finally was still, the rope unwound and my momentum stopped, my face was smeared with vomit and I was panting from the nausea. My nasal passages were burning from the vomit that had come up into my nose because my head was hanging back.

He took this opportunity to whip my ass. I mean, it was just sitting there, perfectly positioned and there was nothing I could do but just take it. He whipped it with a three tail flogger that left nasty welts and caused loud yelps.

When this had all started I was naked, of course, but he was clothed. I don't know when he took his clothes off, I was distracted by a room still turning around and around even after I had stopped moving and just trying to breathe.

Once I had been thoroughly whipped and my ass was burning like fire, he fucked me again. I didn't cum that time, I was just too sick and in pain. It was a miserable experience.

When he let me down, perhaps two hours after he had pulled me up, he held me close and told me, "You are my Siobhan, my pain slut. You suffer for me. I am so proud of you."

I didn't say anything, but just cried for a while in his arms.

The next day I went to work, but was still feeling woozy. I told everyone I was getting over a stomach flu. Why the stomach flu would make it hard for me to sit down wasn't explained.

The next night I begged to be let off of being suspended.

"Please, Jason. I was so sick last night, and the whipping... the fucking while I was dizzy, it was terrible. Can I just have one night off? I will give you the best blow job you've ever had."

"Siobhan, I am disappointed in you. You know you are my pain slut, here to suffer for me. Why do you suffer?" He asked.

I bowed my head and knelt before him. "Because it pleases you."

"More than that, Siobhan."

"Because it arouses you and makes your cock hard," I said, looking at the ground.

"That's right. Now, let's go to the play room."

That night he tried to duplicate the exact suspension position from the book. It was a punishment position, designed to humiliate and torture at the same time.

But, he found that tying my wrists and ankles together and suspending me that way was not enough.

So, he tied my arms together next to my head and bent them back so my wrists were positioned between my shoulders. An incredibly tight and uncomfortable position, though not as bad as a reverse prayer.'

But he used a rope slipped through my bent elbows to help anchor my weight in the suspension. This made the whole thing much more stressful.

With my ankles up and roped securing my elbows to my ankles, my head was shoved between my legs near my knees.

It was like I was folded in half. No... I was literally folded in half.

Then he pulled me up and I lifted off the floor, my arms hurting my head sticking out between my legs (I was unable to move an inch and just hung there). My ass and cunt were thrust slightly forward from the awkward tie position.

I've been in some nasty, tight, degrading and weird ties before, but this was as bad as anything.

It was so tight I found it hard to breathe and just concentrated on making my stomach move in order to get air pulled in and out of my lungs.

Jason fingered me, worshiped my body for a while, and then left me there. Part of his fantasy, I think, that this be a punishment position. That I was to endure as a punishment torture.

I suffered there, hanging by my elbows and ankles for perhaps two hours before he came back and fucked me then let me down.

I called in sick to work the next day. My body felt like it had been beaten; the muscles in my arms and shoulders and back and legs were all stretched and aching and I needed to rest.

When Jason came home he asked me what had happened.

"I called in sick today, Jason. The suspension last night took everything out of me."

I was naked, as I usually was at home, but wearing my collar and leash. I put everything into my pleas, trying hard to get him to understand that my body was abused to the point I was unable to work.

"Siobhan! I understand if you must take a day off of work for health or other reasons, but not without asking me first! You know you need permission to act in this manner!"

I knelt before him and bowed my head.

"I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again. I just... my legs... my back... I hurt so badly."

"You are supposed to hurt, Siobhan. That's your role. To suffer and submit. So next time you call in to work you must ask me permission first. To help remind you of this, you will be punished."

I broke into tears, but that simply inflamed Jason. He led me to the play room and had me face the wall as he buckled my wrists behind my back. Ordering me to lay on the ground he placed ankle cuffs on me and then clipped suspensions ropes onto those.

All this time, I was crying, trying to keep control but unable to.

He hoisted me up into the air by my ankles, upside down.

I hung there for a while, steeling myself for whatever he was going to do next. Blood rushed to my head and the world looked bizarre upside down.

I was only hanging there for a few minutes while he selected his whip and began beating me.

He started with my ass, moved to my thighs, then inner thighs, then stomach, back, and breasts. Each impact was in a slightly different spot so the welts would cover my entire body, but no two welts would appear on top of each other. This maximized pain coverage, but assured fastest healing.

Jason is very, very good at whipping me.

The next day Jason gave me permission to call in sick to work.

I was out for three days recovering.

Jason has become very unforgiving and intense in his punishments. It's always been intense, I mean... he's made me ride the wooden pony for four hours or more at a time. I've just never felt the level of strain and stress as I have from his recent bondage and punishments.

I never know what will happen next.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017


The first time I was suspended in bondage was around the age of 18. I had tried to suspend myself before, having been very active in self bondage, but had never actually done it in any real sense. Yes, I had tied a rope around a beam and around my wrists, trying things out, but never gone through with actual suspension.

I had enough sense to realize that any sort of self suspension could be dangerous. There were two kinds of danger with it. First, the danger of injuring myself, and I knew I wasn't expert enough to guarantee I could tie myself and hang by something without pulling or breaking something.

The second kind of danger was being discovered, which was a constant fear as a teenager engaged in secret self bondage. Any bondage worth doing had to be at least somewhat inescapable, but if it was truly inescapable then my parents or brother would come home and find out. Didn't want that to happen! And with suspension, I couldn't figure out a reliable way of getting myself tied up securely and hanging from a beam without also getting stuck.

So the first time I was actually suspended in bondage was with a boyfriend that I had convinced to tie me up. I allowed him to fuck me while tied up, which was enough of an incentive for a teenage boy to get him to do most anything. When I suggested suspension and explained it, he was wary, but agreed to try it after I agreed to give him a blow job at school, around the back of the gym. And he could fondle me all he wanted while I was suspended.

Well, that actually went well, which was luck in hindsight. We were careful about it, though. I stripped in the garage, which is always sort of erotic. The garage is not a place one is supposed to be naked, so stripping there gives me that titillating vulnerable feeling.

We used some softer rope and he tied my wrists the way I showed him, and then threw the tail over a beam. He pulled, and up my arms went.

Wow, the feeling the first time that happened. Amazing. My arms being pulled, forced up was the beginning, but then as he tightened and pulled the rope I could feel my body stretching, strain my my shoulders and elbows and the tight strain on the wrists. God it was exciting and I got wet right then.

He continued to pull until my toes were just off the floor and I was swinging free, then tied the end off around a brace for the garage door. My entire body weight was stretched on my wrists, and it felt horrible / awesome.

Getting fondled while slowly swinging back and forth was also amazing. He made me taste his fingers after he stuck them up my pussy, and yeah... I was wet. He tried fucking me like that, but no way. The position was wrong and it just didn't work.

He left me up for about ten minutes, after which I begged him to let me down. My hands were going numb, which even back then I knew was a bad sign.

I've written before about one of my most painful bondage episodes, where I was strung up in a strappado.

When suspended, my entire body weight is pulling on whatever part of me is tied and suspended. I weigh about 135, so imagine having 135 lbs tied to your wrists and just dangling there as dead weight.

Well, imagine that with your arms lifted behind your back. I mean, it's a well known method for torture because it hurts a lot and can cause real damage. Which it did. A pulled muscle and I was just... fucked. My boyfriend at the time fortunately realized what was happening and let me down pretty quickly.

OK, fast forward to the present.

Jason has never been one for suspension bondage, probably because it takes some work and preparation and a space and is just in general too much trouble. But a few weeks ago he put in a couple of eyebolts in the ceiling. I knew what was going to happen when he did this, and sure enough that evening he positioned me below them and strapped me in. He used wrist cuffs (much safer than rope), and lifted me up.

It doesn't matter whether you are ten feet off the floor, or one inch from the floor. If you are unable to touch it, then you are swinging free and completely helpless and hanging. In a way being close to the floor is worse because it is juussst out of reach and I have this habit of trying to point my toes to touch the ground and try to relieve some of the pain on my shoulders.

Which of course Jason loves. He loves to see my body try to automatically compensate for whatever predicament he has put me in. He says it enhances my beauty and is very erotic.

Well, with those eyebolts in the bedroom Jason has taken to suspending me in there for almost any small infraction. Once he determined I had not wiped up a few drops of spilled water on the kitchen counter. The punishment? An hour of suspension hanging in the bedroom.

A week ago he left me up there when he went to bed. I was hanging right at the end of the bed, and I suddenly figured out why the eyebolts were placed where they were. On his side of the bed.

I hung there, slowly, gently swinging back and forth, as he lay in bed naked and started to play with himself.

I watched as he stroked himself to an orgasm and spurted semen over his stomach. He got a couple of kleenex and wiped up, then rolled over and went to sleep.

About that time I swore at him, then begged him not to leave me there all night.

All that got me was a ball gag, a big one and tightly strapped. It didn't keep me quiet but it was hard to be understood after that.

Fortunately he didn't leave me up all night, or I would have had to call in sick to work the next morning while I recovered. He took me down when he got up to pee at about midnight.

Most suspension is now occurring in the playroom instead of our bedroom. The playroom is more serious, because it has better soundproofing. I can scream in the playroom and not bother the neighbors.

What all this is leading up to is how interested Jason seems to have become with suspending me. OK, I am his slave, owned by him and he can play with my body any way he wants. If he wants to put water wings on me and float me in the pool, he can do that. If he wants to suspend me upside down while he masturbates, OK.

I have to tell you though, some of the positions he has been doing are right out of the Spanish Inquisition's play book.

"Jason, please don't suspend me tonight, I have meetings all day tomorrow and it really can make my joints hurt and put some abrasions on my wrists and stuff."

"Siobhan, I do care about your work, but tonight I have something special planned and we are going to do it. I love using your body for my pleasure, and this is what pleases me. Remember why you suffer for me?"

I nodded. I knew the answer. "Because it makes your cock hard."

"That's right. Tonight you will suffer because it makes my cock hard."

Yeah. It is my role in life. Let Jason use my body any way that makes his cock hard.

What he did was bad. Really bad, and scared me. I sort of like being scared, because the whole point of enjoying bondage is the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability, and if I am scared it is because I feel especially helpless and vulnerable. Well, I was scared.

First, ropes tying my ankles to my shoulders. Not tight, there was a two foot or so gap, but it was enough to pull me legs back toward my head. My wrists were strapped and tied to my ankles as well, helping to enforce the inverted O position.

Then ropes around my hips. These are the ropes that went up above me to the beam, and then got pulled up. So I wasn't being suspended by my wrists or ankles, but in the middle-- by my waist.

As my waist and hips slowly rose into the air and my head went upside down on the floor, I was saying "ohhhh fuck ... oh fuck fuck fuck..."

Wow, what a weird, inverted, uncomfortable but not damaging position to be in! It must have gotten Jason off because my legs and knees were spread enough to expose my cunt, and I was completely helpless.

Jason spent some time worshiping my body; he runs his hands along my flesh, feeling, touching, probing. The sensation of his fingers on my nipples, then running down my sides to my buttocks and in between to probe for my holes-- it makes me feel incredibly helpless.

The whole scene was a test, too. He was testing some tie techniques that he used the next night to do what he actually wanted.

"Oh Jason... please... don't make me go backward like that again--- oooohhhhhh god oh god oh god..."

He tied my wrists to ankles without any slack, then tied and lifted my hips.

It didn't hurt as much as the night before, he had gotten the weight balance on my hips a bit better. Still, I was bent backward upside down, swinging about a foot from the floor.

He worshiped my body for a while, and then finger fucked me. Not enough for me to orgasm, though.

When he let me down we were both so horny we went to bed and he fucked me in my favorite position-- missionary, my knees up next to my shoulders.

The next night I came home from work, fixed dinner and knew the entire time we ate and cleaned up.... he was going to tie me and suspend me again. It was certain. Neither of us had to say anything.

After cleanup, I simply when upstairs, stripped, then presented myself to him in the playroom.

It is clear he is getting more aggressive, trying to find ways to strain and stretch me. I think he really wants to make me hurt, though he is trying to make sure I am not injured.

Hanging, especially upside down, is very unpleasant. Not pain, per se. But torture none the less.

That night he did a similar technique. First he tied the waist harness around me, but he instead tied my wrists and ankles to an eyelet in the floor. When he lifted me up my arms and legs were secured behind me to the floor.

By continuing to raise me he put increasing pressure on my arms and legs and back. He pulled, creating more pressure and making me moan and finally cry out, begging.

The back was the worst part. I thought it would break. It scared me. I was also having trouble breathing, gasping and sobbing, begging for mercy.

He likes it when I beg.

I could tell he was enjoying the twisted, painful position my body was in. His hand ran gently across my flesh, settling between my legs. My clit was massaged and I found I was panting toward and orgasm. God I was in such a horrible, painfully strained position but here I was cumming.

My orgasm appeared to satisfy my husband, because he relaxed the ropes and let me down. I couldn't pull back into position, I couldn't bring my legs around in front of me. My muscles and joints weren't cooperating. Jason helped, and eventually took me to bed.

I was unable to fuck after that one, the pain and strain had left me weakened and shaking.

Two nights later he tied me in that inverted body curl one more time. This time he lifted me up facing down. The ropes were tied to my elbows and ankles, and the result was not nearly as painful.

Even though, my shoulders experienced strain similar to the time I had injured myself with strappado. I begged to be let down but Jason ignored me.

Well, he didn't ignore me. He enjoyed my begging and stroked his cock. Then he shut me up by sticking his cock in my mouth and making me suck it until he spewed sperm into my throat and I swallowed it all.

I had a talk with him the next day.

"I love you babe, and I am yours. I know, I committed myself to be owned by you and to submit to whatever you desire. My body is your playground however you wish to use it. But... Jason... the suspensions the last couple of nights have come close to causing some sort of permanent damage. I think my back has a problem. It will most likely heal quickly, but... Jason... could we please not suspend me for a while?"

Now, I think that was a very good way to explain the situation, don't you think?

"Yeah, I saw that the inverted position, curled back, it was causing some abnormal stress. Tonight we will do something that won't put any strain on your back, OK?"

Well, that wasn't what I had been hoping for. I wanted some time off.

"Take your clothes off. Let's head to the playroom."

"Jason, I was hoping you would give me a night off from being bound."

"Oh no, Siobhan. We are increasing your time restrained, not reducing it. I am thinking of putting you in restraints full time."

Not knowing what to make of that, I obeyed and stripped, and walked to the playroom.

He tied a harness around my chest, and I immediately wondered if he was going to try and suspend my by my breasts. I have never been suspended by my breasts, and I know it can be done but imagine it must be very painful. I was sweating it out as he tightened the rope around each breasts, making them bulge out like balloons.

Things is, my boobs are not really large enough to be suspended by. I hoped he wouldn't try to suspend me from them.

Nope, he then tied my left wrist behind my back, tying it to the chest harness.

And put one wrist cuff on my right wrist.

And pulled me off the floor.

Yep. Suspended by one arm. One wrist, I should say. My toes.... damn they were close. If I pointed them down I could just feel the edge of the carpet material brush my big toe. But I was off the floor. All my weight, all 135 lbs, on my right wrist and arm.

I cried out in pain, not immediately but the strain quickly rose and became first uncomfortable, then painful.

OK, I told myself. I've been through a lot, been in a lot of bondage and I know when I reach my limits and this isn't a limit.

He lifted me about six inches off the floor and I dangled, swinging back and forth.

One thing about suspensions; the less you move the less they hurt and the smaller the chances of getting injured. Just hanging motionless is the best path.

Except sometimes you can't. Your body demands escape. It feels something hurting it and just wants to go. So I ended up struggling a bit, which made me swing back and forth more and made very slight increases in the strain, hurting me more.

I was crying by then, and started begging again.

I had begged more in the last few weeks than ever before, and it was because of the strenuousness of the suspension positions.

When I beg Jason typically will either sit back and enjoy the sound of my pleas, or he will gag me. This time he gagged me. Not too terribly securely, but enough to let me know my pleas were meaningless. He didn't want to hear it.

So I simply swung in place by one arm, trying to relax the muscles, then trying to tense them to hold myself up, then discovering tense muscles grew tired to fast and relaxing them...

Why did he tie my ankles? I don't know, it wasn't like I could do anything with my legs, but maybe I was kicking around a bit. In any case, he tied my ankles together and then watched me swing around slowly.

At one point I know he licked the tears from my face.

At another point he masturbated and spurted his cum on my stomach and hip. It dried there before he let me down.

OK, so that was last night. I called in sick to work today. I may see the doc about a sprained shoulder. I think I came close to dislocation last night.

Jason was really having fun though.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Arm Bondage

I love Jason because he loves me.

I love Jason because he ties me up.

I love Jason when it gets so tight I can't move and my body is helpless, vulnerable, and I am completely exposed and at his whim.

I love Jason because he knows how to restrain me in ways that make me beg to be set free.

I love Jason because he knows how to turn me into jelly by making sure I can't escape and then touching me in just the right way to make me beg for release-- not to be set free but to release the orgasm that wells up deep within me.

I've had a love affair with bondage since before I was twelve years old, and now my love affair has the ultimate fulfillment-- my man, my partner, my lover, my master.

Jason hurts me sometimes, making my entire world come into a sharp focus, every sensation more intense, more exciting, more overwhelming. He gets me out of my brain and into subspace where I can think of nothing but how to endure, how to please him so he will be kind, how to pleasure him so he will be cruel.

Remember that pain is your body telling you something is wrong-- that you are being injured. It's your body's way of urging you to run for the hills.

Which is why pain in bondage is so important, for me at least. I love bondage because I feel helpless in it. Vulnerable. At someone else's whim.

If my body is telling me I need to run for the hills, that I am hurting-- and I can't move... it makes the feeling of helplessness and vulnerability much more intense. It makes everything more intense.

It's a balancing act. Pain is a warning that you are being injured. It can occur when there is only the potential for being injured, and real injury has not happened as yet.

Then again pain can happen when tendons are tearing, muscles are being pulled, flesh is being punctured and torn, bones are breaking, and so on. The key to using pain in bondage is to invoke pain without the injury. This takes skill and attention. A lot of it.

I love Jason because he has this skill, and pays attention.

Strappado is painful. Well, heck, it was designed to be painful. It was invented as a quick and easy method of torture back ... well, most people think of it as being from the middle ages, the Spanish Inquisition, or whatever. But like most easy and effective method of torture, it has been around since people have wanted to hurt other people.

Yes, I've been in strappado. It its easiest, it is uncomfortable. At its worst it is excruciating.

Understanding strappado is important. Its design was to use the victim's weight against herself. By hanging a victim by their arms behind them, it forces the arms and shoulders into places the shoulders and muscles weren't designed to go. Thus, pain.

The pain is a warning that your muscles are being torn from the bone, that your rotator cuff is about to be ripped in half, that your bones may break, that your arm may be pried from its socket at any moment.

I was in strappado the first time when I was about 20. My boyfriend at the time didn't even know what it was or planned it, he just had tied my wrists behind my back as well as binding my legs to practice tying me up. I mean... believe it or not, getting tied up in different ways was one of my favorite ideas for a fun Saturday afternoon.

I don't know why he got the idea, but he attached my wrist tie to another rope that went up and through a hook in the ceiling used for a hanging plant, and pulled.

Up went my wrists behind me, and of course I bent over. Bending over keeps the angle of the shoulders from being too severe. If the arms go straight up behind you, chances are you are going to do some serious injury and will be in a lot of pain.

I gasped, the whole thing rather unexpected. My ankles were tied so I couldn't walk away, plus when your arms are stretched behind you, you can't walk away anyway.

My boyfriend was like, "wow, that's incredibly sexy, Siobhan... I love you in that position!"

I was gagged, but most gags don't actually keep you from talking so I swore at him and told him he might love the position but it hurt. I told him to go fuck himself. He responded by pulling on the rope and raising my wrists another foot or so, which made me gasp and cry, and I shut up.

He left me in that position about a half hour, which was about all I could take at that time. I gave him a blow job to thank him when he finally let me down.

Bent over like that I was prime for a fucking from behind, but had my clothes on. (A lot of my bondage early in life was done while clothed.)

I am pretty flexible, and Jason has been emphasizing keeping me in shape and improving my flexibility. I can do the splits with no discomfort, and my elbows can be strapped behind my back with no problem.

Strapping the elbows behind the back, touching, is extremely debilitating and feels awesome. As in, impossible to get out of and it can make one feel completely helpless. Jason actually enjoys strapping my elbows together and then telling me to go about my business, working in the kitchen or whatever.

With elbows strapped but hands free you can still do work, but it is difficult. Every motion, every task reminds you that you are bound and restricted.

Of course, if in complete strict bondage, having the elbows tied also enhances the feeling of complete submission and helplessness.

OK, back to strappado. This technique is dangerous, but it is adjustable. The more severe the strappado, the greater pain (and greater risk of injury).

For most people, lifting their wrists even a little when tied behind the back will cause discomfort. I've trained my arms in flexibility over the years, and for me the discomfort really sets in about the point my arms are straight out behind me, perpendicular to my back. I've seen women sobbing with pain at that height.

For me, it's enough to drive me forward. Strappado does that, the higher the wrists go the more the victim (me, in this case) moves and bends forward. This essentially reduces the angle.

It's one reason Jason loves this position and strappado. It forces me over, bent forward. Add a leg spreader and it's a perfect way to take me from behind, and there's little I can do about it.

If the wrists keep getting pulled higher I keep bending forward, but at some point the body can't bend forward and the pulling rope instead works to raise my body. This is the point where things get serious. The angle of my arms goes past 90 degrees and the shoulders really cramp and hurt.

The pain runs from my elbows through my forearms, is worst at my shoulders but also spreads over my upper back in the form of cramps, especially if I am left in that position for long.

Strapping the elbows together is a cruel addition to the strappado. It means the strain on the shoulders is more severe, as the arms are bent slightly back in addition to being rotated upward.

I'm usually positioned over a mat or cloth on the floor, as I have been known to lose bladder control and pee myself accidentally from the strain and pain.

As with many forms of bondage and torture, I have love/hate emotions about strappado. It's incredibly intense, and can hurt a lot. I suppose if it was used the way it was used for true torture, dangling with weights on my ankles, I would pass out or something. I can't imagine the pain of having my arms literally ripped out of their sockets, which is what would happen.

Fortunately, Jason knows how to put the strain on my body without doing permanent damage.

There are variations on strappado, one of the most common being to restrain my legs in a kneeling position. Jason will take a rope around my waist, threaded through my crotch and then tied around my knees, keeping me kneeling. It isn't possible to lean forward as much when kneeling like this, especially in this configuration because my ankles are tied up near my waist and I end up resting on my knees.

Losing my balance, tipping over forward or back or worse, to the side, can result in my full weight being placed on my arms, which is agonizing. The risk of this happening keeps me very still.

I love being naked when bound. When I was younger, because I didn't always trust the people that were tying me up, I was frequently bound while clothed. But ultimately being naked while bound enhances the feeling of helplessness and fear.

The worst strappado I was ever in wasn't with Jason. Jason has finesse, style, he employs variety, and I trust him to use me sexually during our bondage sessions. Well, duh. He owns me, and can use me sexually any time he wants. No, the worst time was with a guy named Keith. We had played tie up games a few times, and he had proven himself very adapt. I was about... 18 at the time and he was 21 or 22.

I was wearing some nice clothes, something I felt sexy in, and stylish. I thought it would enhance the experience of being tied up. Heels and everything. Keith had never seen me naked (and never would), but he did get very aroused by our sessions, and would sometimes masturbate in front of me while I was tied up. That was a bit humiliating, though frankly, I enjoyed being helpless and humiliated. So I didn't mind.

Well, we were at my parent's house (I was still living there actually, and in high school I think), and arranged for Keith to come over while they were out up at some museum in LA. He brought an extra set of ropes and was tying me up almost as soon as he was in the door.

The first tie he did was a lame one with my wrists tied to my ankles. You have to realize that to do some of these ties can take a long time; it can take 15, 20 minutes just to get me tied up. Once tied up he didn't want to let me out, but I was talking to him and telling him how stupid the tie was and he finally got mad and said, fine. Let's do another one then.

Well, he did my elbows behind my back, something I had only done once before, and then brought the rope down to my wrists. The rope was wrapped around my arms 5, 10 times in each place-- it was a serious tie. I could feel just how secure and helpless I was.

He then taped my mouth shut, telling me I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. This was after my arms were bound and there was nothing I could do about it.

And then he tied a rope through the wrists and up over a beam in my parents living room and pulled. Whoa... I quickly walked backward to the place where the rope went up in order to relieve the tension, and stopped.

He kept pulling and my shoulders kept twisting and I bent over and was making grunting noises through the tape, and was really feeling his revenge for my insulting him earlier.

Keith stood in front of me when I was there, unable to move much and pulled his dick out. He wasn't allowed to touch under my clothes or remove clothes, that was part of the deal, but he could sit and jerk off while watching my helpless tied up self all he wanted.

As he was stroking himself he pulled harder, until my arms were almost straight up vertical. I mean, I was bent over a bit, but mostly I was standing with my arms pulled all the way up and I literally thought they were slowly working their way out of my shoulder sockets.

My eyes must have been bulging out and my muffled screams under the tape gag were warning him I was in distress, but he had to finish jerking off. It took him a minute, and when he finally came his semen spurted several feet and got all over my dress and blouse.

Well, he let me down after that, I sank right to the ground and lay down, and untied my arms. I must have sworn up and down a blue streak when he finally untaped my mouth, and told him he had gone too far.

"Oh, but you have no idea how beautiful you looked," he said.

I also had to clean my best blouse. Asshole.

The newest arm bondage tie Jason has used on me is a variation on the strappado. He ties my elbows and wrists together behind my back. Then, he ties the wrists to rope around my chest, either at my breasts or just above them. This raises my elbows by itself, because my wrists are secured to a higher location on my body.

It is rather like being in strappado, but mobile. I can walk around, though it is a very uncomfortable position and I don't feel much like moving.

Of course, not content with this rather tight and uncomfortable position, Jason will tied my elbow ropes to a suspension rope and lift.

The interesting part is he can lift the rope as much as he likes and it doesn't make the strappado worse, because it also pulls on the arms that are secured to my chest. The result is he can actually lift me off the ground, feet swinging in the air.

That isn't to say it isn't painful. It is. It hurts. But I can take it for a while, long enough for him to play between my legs in whatever way he wishes, as I hang helpless, gently swinging and whimpering before him.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Refinements on the Wooden Pony Experience

A very strange thing has happened. The other day I was walking in from the parking lot at lunch time, into work, and I felt the need to pee. But I also felt inexplicably aroused and sensual. Bladder control and the feelings of discomfort from having a painfully full bladder have become arousing to me.

Throughout the training, I think I have come to feel the sensation of a full bladder as being erotic. It's associated with being bound, dominated, and fucked. The other day I had a full bladder at work and was about to head home; I skipped the restroom and kept the full bladder on the drive home and for a little while at home, before releasing it.

Jason is continuing the bladder control training by imposing restricted bathroom privilege periodically and without announcement.

For example, at seven in the morning, I was getting out of bed. "Siobhan, no toilet privilege for the next four hours."

"What? Jason, you could have warned me, I haven't peed yet!"

"That's the point, Siobhan, you have to learn to deal with body control and restrictions at any time, in any condition. You belong to me and I have the ultimate control over your body functions. No toilet for four hours."

"Yes, sir," I grumbled, getting dressed. I was already in discomfort and that spread to pain as the hours went on. But as the discomfort increased, so did my arousal. I was actually wet after a couple of hours and wanted to masturbate.

Of course, masturbation is also something that is under Jason's control, and I had to ask permission.

"You have permission to masturbate Siobhan, as long as you do it before me."

That isn't a punishment; I enjoy dropping my jeans, spreading my legs and letting my husband and owner observe me pleasuring myself. He enjoys it as well.

The more I do this, the more I associate sexual arousal with a full bladder. Or rather... I associate a full bladder with sexual arousal. After the initial training I ended up masturbating when I got aroused from the discomfort, and now I can't feel the need to pee without also wanted to rub myself to orgasm.

So yeah... that's weird but also very real. I get a full bladder, and I get horny.

Sometimes Jason's bladder control training has not been 100% successful. I do my best but there are times when I get distracted, or just can't hold it completely.

So what happens is a couple of times I have begun to leak. Now, the thing about leaking when you have a painfully distended bladder-- once it starts it is ten times harder to stop. Typically, by the time I have noticed I am letting some urine go, it's hurting so bad I can't stop it and it just... all goes.

When it happens it really is humiliating. It's like a flood pouring down the cloth of my pants, the warmth spreading suddenly.

This usually happens at home, thank goodness. Jason's random training periods tend to be at home but there are times when he hits me with the toilet restriction during the day when I have to go out, or am already out.

The result was that once I lost control in public.

Like I say, it happens without warning. I don't know I am about to pee, to lose control. Just... one moment I am in pain, trying to go about my business without leaking and wondering whether I can find a private place to masturbate to burn off some of the arousal that comes with a full bladder.

The suddenly, the warmth floods my crotch and down my legs.

When it happened in public we were walking between two stores in an open mall. I felt it beginning and suddenly begged Jason to slip into a little alley way between stores. The process of wetting myself completed there, though I had to walk through the mall with wet pants (and strange, humiliating looks) to get back to the car and home to change.

Yes, it feels great. I have to admit that I am usually in pain when I make this kind of slip and the feeling of relief is tremendous.

Of course, I am punished for such slips.

Jason has been using the wooden pony for such punishments. I have to say, I don't like the wooden pony at all. It hurts, especially as time goes on.

Sitting on the wooden pony is designed to start out uncomfortably, and then slowly become more painful and horrible as time goes on. It's a long term sort of experience, and one that creates a specific set of behaviors in any victim riding the pony.

The pressure of my body will press my crotch onto the wooden beam, which can either be flat or angled. Angled (pointed) hurts more right away because the point digs into my cunt, but flat (like a 2x4) slowly catches up and before long my cunt is aching just as much.

Once it really begins to hurt my body seeks a better position to relieve the discomfort. I know this is part of the process, part of the humiliation I experience and what Jason enjoys seeing. I can't help it. I rock or lean forward to put the pressure on a different part of my cunt. Usually I lean back which puts the pressure on my ass.

Depending on how I am tied, this might not last long, and my ass begins hurting quickly anyway and I rock the other way, leaning forward. My weight ends up pressing on my clit and pelvis... that usually doesn't last long, I can't stand it, so I rock back.

Once the pain starts to get really bad I also begin to rock to the side, but usually there are bondage limitations as to how far I can take that. I usually have a noose around my neck or my ankles are tied up to the horse or spread out, making side to side rocking difficult. Still, I do it. I have to. My body is desperately demanding that I find a way to relieve the pain.

It's the slow wriggling of the wooden pony victim trying to displace their weight that is the classic "riding" behavior.

It's the frustrating, ongoing, relentless pain that just slowly gets worse and worse over hours... that's what gets me about riding the pony. Sometimes I am left alone to ride, and I think that is worse. At least if Jason is there watching me wriggle and cry, someone is enjoying it and getting a benefit from it. But if I am alone... I feel soooo alone. Lost. Just in pain by myself. Jason's presence with me is a comfort even if he is the one doing it to me.

Well, Jason has worked out a way to add just a bit of nastiness and discomfort to the process.

Normally when I ride the pony I am naked, of course, and my cunt is squashed right up against the wooden point of the horse. Jason sometimes adds little items like clamps to my nipples or binding my arms in a reverse prayer to make things a little worse. But most of the discomfort comes from my labia being smashed on the wood.

Often I can shift my body a bit to get the labia positioned properly-- my slit directly over the wooden ridge. Except that actually feels awful. Very soon after achieving that I want to get the wood ridge out of my vagina and shift my weight to try and get it on one or both labia lips. That's pretty painful itself over time, but at least these tiny shifts in weight can help me endure for a longer time.

I find it amazing how expert I have come on small movements and how they can make the torture just a little easier to bear. Something most women would not even imagine.

Well, Jason's little evil variation-- he found some small clamps (that are really quite tight and hurt going on) and places them on my vaginal lips.

He's experimenting with what is worse-- clamping my labia or my inner vaginal lips. I won't tell him but I think it is worse on my labia, but that could change based on future experience.

So these clamps also have small loops through which a string, twine, or rubber band can be threaded. Once threaded, the string is wrapped around my upper thigh. This pulled the clamp wide, making sure my pussy is held open for the edge of the pony to drive into my vagina as far as possible.

This makes it impossible for me to shift my weight to move to a different area of my cunt.

The whole point is the longer the pony smashes and drives into a single area of my flesh, the faster and more that area of flesh hurts.

Shifting around, moving around the pony doesn't help as much, because my lips are held in place, spread out.  The wood actually drives up into my vaginal slightly. The horse is raping me.

All this happened last time I lost bladder control. Jason brought me home and cleaned me up, but that evening announced a three hour session on the pony.

"Three hours! That's... I can't do three hours!"

"Of course you can, Siobhan. You've done three hours several times."  He's right of course. One hour hurts but I can do it, two hours is agony and I will go way out of my way to avoid that kind of punishment. Three hours is torture and has me sobbing, begging and willing to do just about anything to be released. And I mean anything. But I've done it.

"Please, Jason. How about if we mix it. A flogging? How about one hour and a flogging. While I am on the horse. OK?"

Jason smiled. He knew I hated the pony, and unfortunately, he loves it. "How about three hours with a flogging? Take your mind off your cunt?"

I almost said yes, but decided I was not going to risk it. Sometimes extra pain somewhere else actually does take your mind off a constant painful ongoing relentless torture. But no, I was not going to risk it. So three hours it was.

This was the first time he had applied his little labia spreading trick though. I was naive and didn't think much of it until I had been on the pony for about an hour and realized that my inner vaginal wall was getting really sore from my rocking back and forth, rubbing it.

"Fuck.... fuckfuckfuckfuck... that hurts... Jason... that hurts..." I was talking, expressing my pain. I can't help it. It gets Jason off, actually. He was there with his cock out of his pants watching me suffer.

"Bad language, Siobhan." Jason went inside (the wooden pony is in our garage, another nasty aspect of the experience because it gets cold there, or hot during the summer). He came back with a bit gag and put it on me. The bit gag doesn't stop anyone from talking, and certainly doesn't keep one quiet. It is basically just a humiliation technique. And it makes me drool, a lot. I think Jason likes to see my chest and breasts covered with saliva.

After all, I am riding the pony and have a bit gag in my mouth. Irony, sarcasm? Something like that.

Well, I had been rocking back a lot to put the weight on my anus, which is probably the least painful position on the pony. Jason caught this and decided to do something about it.

He has some nipple clamps that are really tight, stiff buggers. They hurt like demons going on, smash my nipples down to the width of paper, bruising them. They don't come off by pulling unless I pull really, really hard and then I scream for about five minutes as the blood flows back and the nerves in my nipples come alive. Better to leave the clamps on and let the nipples just go numb.

Jason put the clamps on me and tied them to the front of the pony. This effectively prevented me from shifting my weight very far back. I was stuck, sitting on my cunt, labia spread, pointed wooden pony rammed up my vagina.

Yes, I cried. I don't know how far in it was, one hour, or two? But I lost the ability to endure and began to cry, tears streaming down my face. The drool splattered out of my mouth as I sobbed, spraying on my breasts and stomach. I struggled and pulled. I was willing to pull off the clamps if I could and it would help relieve the pain in my cunt.

The clamps wouldn't come off though. And my cunt wouldn't stop hurting.

I begged Jason. Yes, the bit gag made it a bit garbled, but it wasn't that hard to talk. I told him I would do anything. I would eat his shit. I would eat dirt. I would go without peeing for 24 hours. I would run through downtown naked.

After a while I just sat and sobbed.

And then it was over. Not without a bit of screaming, though. The clamps were yanked off first and the neighbors really must have heard me scream at that. It took me a bit to stop the yelling.

He then unfastened my ankle restraints and let me put some weight on my feet. Blood started flowing back into my poor bruised cunt... and I screamed again and then cried.

He undid my wrist restraints, and then helped me off the pony.

My last scream was when he undid the clamps that help my labia wide.

All in all... I loved it. I hated it. I loved to hate it. I am one sick puppy, what can I say?

I think... down deep... he is eventually going to figure out he can nail my labia to the horse. I dread the day he thinks of it and decides to give it a try.

Friday, February 24, 2017

Bladder Training

You've probably read about the incident with my lack of bladder control and roadside urination in Arizona from the earlier post. It was most certainly humiliating to be forced to urinate along the roadside, in public with cars whizzing by.

The subsequent enema punishment a week later was also painful and I failed at it, allowing some leakage before being allowed to go to the toilet. Jason promised additional training for body control and submission as a result.

I haven't written about it yet, but Jason did follow through on that promise (or threat, depending on how you look at it).

The first sessions involved bladder control. They occurred over two rather painful and embarrassing weekends.

Saturday morning and we were at breakfast. I had fixed a nice one of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice. Later, I planned to do some grocery shopping and meet with a couple of neighbors for lunch.

Jason informed me I was mistaken. "No, Siobhan, this weekend we are going to be doing some bladder control training."

My eyes got big and I said nothing. I was imagining the possibilities, mostly painful.

"Get undressed, and meet me in the playroom." The playroom is our third bedroom, and has been specially equipped with various devices used during sex, discipline, domination and... well... torture. Yes, I have to admit I am tortured. It is my pleasure to be tortured by and for Jason.

I went into the playroom, shaking a little in anticipation. I pulled my top off over my head, and unhooked my bra. Both pieces were folded neatly on a shelf designated for this purpose. I was wearing casual jeans, which I removed; typically I am barefoot at home, I am not allowed to wear shoes inside. Last came my panties, which I folded with the pants on the shelf, and I was completely naked. For the next several hours, I would not need to be clothed.

"Lay down on the table on your back and spread your legs," Jason said calmly.

I did as instructed. I had no idea what was coming, but I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. I spread my legs, exposing my genitals for him, and waited.

Jason first used some soap to sterilize my cunt. I had recently shaved and he was using an antiseptic soap that stung a little. I moaned at the irritation but it quickly passed. He washed and disinfected his own hands.

Then came the speculum. It's a smooth, high quality stainless one from a medical supply. I've had it inserted many times before. It's a little uncomfortable, especially when cold, but not bad. I felt it slide in and then expand, spreading my flesh and stretching it slightly. I always feel like that speculum is designed to drive home how no part of my body is off limits. It exposes my body more than just being naked. I am forced open in unnatural ways for examination and... manipulation.

He then produced some tubing that ended in a catheterized tip. Oh. I now began to understand what he might be doing.

A tiny bit of lube on the tip and he massaged my cunt flesh, spreading and poking around to expose my urethra. I could feel the lubed end of the catheter probing around and then find the entrance to my urethra. Jason pushed gently.

I gasped. It wasn't going in easily, and it took all my will power to keep my legs spread for him and not reach my hands down defensively. He continued to push and suddenly it went in. I yelped, "Ahhh!" and then it was over. Or at least that part. The tube was in, and the first hurdle done.

Jason could see I was having trouble. Moaning and wriggling a bit, I had managed to allow the catheter all the way in, but whatever was coming next wasn't going to be pleasant. I looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Would it help if you were restrained for the next part?" He asked kindly.

I nodded my head. Things are always easier for me when I am tied up, the tighter the better. I needed to be bound. He knew this. I can take a lot, but I need to be helpless. Nothing turns me on more than having my body abused when I am unable to respond or even move.

He used the medical restraints. Nicely padded cuffs that buckled tight and spread my legs out. I was able to wriggle about quite a bit, but my wrists and ankles were secured at the side of the table, exposing my body and keeping me from attempting to cover myself or remove the catheter.

Jason also kindly inserted a dental gag, spreading my jaw open. There wasn't anything necessary about this, but the feeling of having one's jaw forced and held open adds to the feeling of helplessness and invasion. And believe me, I was being invaded.

The catheter had a clamp on it to keep any liquid from coming out. I did not need to go to the restroom before he had told me to submit to him in the playroom, but when he unclamped the tube there was a sudden flow of urine that went into a pot positioned just below my butt on the table.

"We need to start with an empty bladder so I know exactly how much liquid is inside you at any time. I want to be precise," he said. It was meant to reassure but it didn't. I was nervous and a bit scared about what he was doing to me, but I was tied down now and had no choice. Whatever he did, it was going to happen whether I liked it or not.

I hadn't really questioned anything until now. It isn't my place to question what Jason does to me or my body. I've learned and gotten quite good at simply obeying.

But at this point I was shaking I was so nervous. My mouth was held wide open by my mouth spreader which made it impossible to talk, but I made some noises with my tongue. "Anngnggg ngnng eng enn engggggeeeaaaa?"

Jason understood reasonably well.

"I am going to fill your bladder and we are going to practice having you hold it. We'll do this a little each day, increasing the amount that you can hold, and how long you can hold it. It will be unpleasant, but I will enjoy the process and that's what counts."

I turned my head away to keep him from seeing a single tear that trickled down my cheek and simply nodded my head. I understood.

And so what Jason termed my bladder control training (and I refer to as my bladder torture) began.

He injected the water into my bladder. The syringe didn't hold a huge amount, so once he had injected it all I simply felt like maybe I had to pee but the sensation of the catheter was much stronger so that the whole feeling of fullness wasn't significant at all.

"That was 200 milliliters. Just a start." Jason refilled the syringe and once again pushed the plunger and I could feel the cold water flooding and expanding my bladder. I wriggled a little in my restraints as I felt suddenly much more full, the sensation of needing to pee coming on. It wasn't painful. I just needed to go.

"400 ml. That's a full bladder, but at the low end."

It didn't feel like the low end. If my bladder felt this way on the road, I would have asked we pull over at the next stop.

"Let's just hold that for a while, shall we?" Jason said.

"aaaahhhhh????" I said with pleading eyes. I needed to pee.

"Yep. We will start this at half an hour. You can do that." Jason was brimming with confidence about my ability to withstand discomfort.

"Aaaaggghhhh...." I said, accepting his demand unhappily.

Jason left the room, leaving me alone, strapped down to the table. That was cruel. Had he stayed around, he could have distracted me from the discomfort in my abdomen. But no.... he left.

After 15 minutes I would gladly have had him flog me, just to distract from the nagging feeling of needing to pee.

I would peed, too, even if it had been all over the torture table in the play room, dribbled all over onto the floor and everything. It's amazing how one's mind can think of nothing else when your bladder is full. Just needing to empty it. But... the catheter was clamped shut, I was restrained, and there was no pee for me.

Jason returned and I immediately begged for relief. "Aaaaeeeghhhg ehehehhhhggg!!!!"

"I see," he said kindly. "Well, let's unclamp you."

With that he unclamped the catheter and the water immediately began to run out, fast. I couldn't have stopped it if I had tried because the tube ran all the way to my bladder.

My bladder, the ability to retain or expel urine, was entirely at Jason's whim.

When all the water was gone, I let out a sigh of relief. "Ahhhhh....."

"OK, some recovery time before we start again?"

My eyes got wide. "Aaaahhhh????!?!!!" He was going to do some more????

He waited for a few minutes and then injected me again. More fluid into my bladder.

"Ohhh... uuuccckkkkk uucccccckkkkk!!!!" I cried out from my forced-open mouth. Two syringe fulls and I was back at 400 ml. It seemed more painful this time. But of course, he couldn't stop there. Another syringe.

"Aaaahahgggh  oaahhhhh!!! Uuuuckccckkkk Uckkkkkk!!!" I cried out as my bladder extended more and more, taking the water that was forced into it. This couldn't be healthy, I knew it. This was more than my bladder was supposed to hold. And that was true because it hurt. Before, I just felt like I really needed to pee. This time I was hurting. Actual pain. Not bad, not like some of the muscle cramps I've had in strappado, or when I did the cunt rope walk... but it was painful.

"600 ml. That's a good full bladder. It should be quite uncomfortable now."

I nodded frantically. "uh huh uh huh..."

"Eeeeeeese...   eeease?" I was begging now to be released. The clamp shut off my catheter and I was filled.

"Be back in half an hour!"

"ooohhhhh!!!!!!" I cried.

"What, you want something to distract you?"

I knew what that meant, but frankly... I was willing to accept it. "Eessssss".

Nipple clamps.

Painfully tight ones, with twine rising up and tied from a hook above me so my nipples and breasts were pulled away from me. Yeah, they hurt. It was a different kind of pain though. Just... regular pain. Not the kind of urgent pain where my body was telling me I could do something about my bladder. My body could not understand why I didn't just release it. Why didn't it just flow out?

I lay there, nipples dragged out, bladder full, all by myself, in agony.

I shouldn't call it agony. I've been in agony when I had a pulled and torn ligament from a bad bondage session. I've been in agony from hanging in strappado just a little bit too long. I've been stapled. I've had my ass beaten until it bled. I've dangled from the ceiling by my ankles while my nipples received random shocks. Those hurt a lot worse.

Still, there is something very special about bladder demands and the cramps that set in when they aren't met.

I'd been in the playroom for two hours when he started the fourth session. 900 ml. Oh god, my bladder was so full. He wanted to get me to a full liter of water, but I was sobbing, tears running down my cheeks after holding 900 ml for an hour.

Yes, an hour. I was tied down and unable to pee for an hour. My life had narrowed to my lower abdomen. I forgot everything else. My job, my home, friends... all gone. All I could think about was the pain just above my cunt.

My bladder was so full I could see it. I raised my head and looked at my abdomen and could see the hard distention of my urine sack, low down in my abdomen. It didn't look like that much. But it was so clear, the bump under the flesh like a huge malignant tumor. That was it. My bladder, filled to bursting.

I wondered if it could actually burst. I didn't think so, but I was beginning to think it might.

After an hour of serious pain, writhing against my bonds, crying and begging, raising my hips up and moving from side to side, after an endless hour, he released the clamp.

The full 900 ml came gushing out.

It was strange. The sense of relief when I was finally able to pee was tremendous. Huge. It felt so damn good I almost didn't mind being filled. Almost. Not quite.

Finally he removed the catheter, slowly pulling it out of my urethra. That felt fantastic as well. God, it felt good. The nipple clamps had come off some time before, so when the speculum was removed I was all done.

Jason removed the restraints, I sat up on the table and panted. He put his arm around me, kissed me, and told me how proud he was of me. That made me glow and I looked up at him and grinned.

"I can take a lot, can't I?"

"Yes, my little Siobhan, you are a real trooper. I am proud of you."

So that was Saturday. The training continued on Sunday after had a wonderful romantic night out the evening before. Honestly, Jason can be so romantic. I love him so much.

Anyway, Sunday came and at 10:00am the second training session continued. I continued to be tied down because, well, I wanted it. I not only love being tied, but it took away my ability to fight the training, which I was sure I would do. I would not be capable of just laying there and doing nothing while my bladder was in agony.

We varied the amount that I took alternating between low volumes of liquid held for long periods of time (like two hours), and high volumes of liquid held for short periods of time (10 or 15 minutes).

It wasn't becoming any more pleasant. I was simply becoming more familiar with the pain. Two hours, laying there with nothing to think about but a full bladder and wanting to release my urine... I have to say, I got used to it.

The second weekend we tried for the ultimate goal-- large volumes of liquid, held for long periods at a time.

Jason also did the most unusual thing. For our first exercise of the day on Saturday, he filled my bladder with 700 ml, which is quite full but not enough for incredibly painful cramps, and then we fucked.

Yeah, he inserted his cock into my cunt and fucked me, while I had the catheter inside me with a really full bladder.

Was it fun? Um... well, I came. A good, solid orgasm. Knowing the pain and pleasure together were part of the kinky experience, well I suppose it enhanced things a bit.

I love being fucked, raped in bondage; rough fucked in painful and difficult ways. So this wasn't that much different. The feeling of the catheter inside did sort of enhance the sensations, especially on my clit.

Jason reported afterward that he thought I felt noticeably tighter. I guess my full bladder created more of a bulge and pressure down on my vagina and he could feel it with his cock inside me.

Saturday afternoon we reached a sort of maximum goal. 900ml held for two hours. Good god that hurt, and it just went on and on, getting worse as it went on. I might have started at 900ml, but my kidneys were working and during the course of two hours I am sure they added another 100 or 200 ml. I mean, it really hurt, rather like having a charlie horse cramp in your leg, except this was inside my abdomen and didn't get any better. It got worse as time went on.

But ohhhhh... the amazing feeling of relief and joy when Jason finally unclamped me and the liquid ran out. I cried in relief, actually.

At 900ml you can really see the belly distended. It looked a bit like I was pregnant.

So... that was it for Saturday.

The last part of the training that occurred on Sunday was to fill my bladder but not tied up or immobile. I had to fill myself and show off my distended stomach proudly, walking about, doing housework, serving a meal.

I did this. For Jason, and for myself. By this point I was proud. Really proud of my achievement and how much I could take, how much pain and discomfort I could set aside in my mind and actually control myself.

It's rather like how my limits have expanded since I have been with Jason. I can spend more time secured in tight bondage, take more painful positions and torments, and I can do it all without complaining.

The next Friday evening I cooked a meal with 800ml in my bladder. I was naked, of course, and Jason would come by at times and put his hand on my stomach. We could see how I was distended, and yes it hurt but I went about the kitchen duties without complaining.

We sat down at the table (Jason clothed, myself naked) and had a nice time. It became increasingly difficult to hold the liquid without grimacing and showing the pain, but when the meal was done Jason came up to me and told me to show off my accomplishment.

I smiled and felt the curve of my abdomen, the tense flesh stretched over the expanded bladder. He touched it as well and told me how proud I was.

It's an accomplishment. I can take more pain now, I have confidence I can control my bladder better than anyone. It's an accomplishment in training my body, in extending my limits and in showing Jason my complete obedience to his control.