Thursday, June 5, 2014

Center of Attention

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, March 17, 2014

Riding the Rope

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Cumming Out Party

I think I have mentioned that our neighbors, Erin and her husband Jim, have a unique lifestyle similar to my own with Jason.  Erin dominates Jim thoroughly. You would never know it to look at them in normal life. Erin is a petite, lovely brunette, smiles a lot and while aggressive in business is also an easy person to like.  Jim is quieter, but also friendly, intelligent, and rather tall. He towers over Erin.

What few people know is that Jim wears a chastity device 24/7. Erin wears the key on a chain around her neck, hidden from view.  My slave collar, a permanent lightweight ring of steel, is worn for all to see. While most people think it is just a unique piece of jewelry, those familiar with it know it is permanent, can not be removed, and is a sign of my complete subjugation to my husband and owner. To this extent, Jim and Erin's relationship is more hidden than mine.

Erin loves her husband, but also derives great joy from dominating, controlling and humiliating him. I have little insight into what goes on in their house, but Jason and I have played with them enough to know how serious and debauched their personal lives can be. Jason treats me fairly and lovingly, though he can be cruel; he treats me as his property. At times he uses me as a pain slut, simply enjoying seeing me struggle, moan, or cry from new torture he has devised. These times are not truly hard for me, for I know my suffering pleases him. The most difficult times are when Jason punishes me because of my failure. It is then that I feel the worst because I know I have let him down and deserve the punishment.

So one day Erin invited Jason and myself over for an event that Saturday night. I say "event" because while we were to have dinner, there was other entertainment scheduled. Apparently, Jim had been in chastity for over two months, and Erin had decided to let him out of his cage to pleasure himself. But, in line with her delight in humiliating and controlling her husband, she had invited us over to watch the process and perhaps even join in her domination.

Being a slave myself, I understood how painful this would be for Jim and felt for him, but at the same time accepted that this was the lifestyle he wanted and that ultimately, this gave him pleasure, satisfied him and met his needs. His devotion to Erin is complete, as is mine to Jason.

For the evening, Jason picked out a long gold dress that showed off my curves nicely. Because we were visiting others in the lifestyle, he decided that some form of bondage was appropriate, so when I had finished dressing and doing my face and hair, he placed a light chain around my waist. My wrists were cuffed to the waist chain with one foot chains, which allowed for me to interact with others and some freedom of movement, but would restrict and remove total freedom. I could not reach my hands above my breasts, and the chains were just a bit too short to allow my arms to hang freely at my sides.

We walked over to Erin's house. It was dark already, so I wore my restraints openly. Jason nuzzled my neck as we walked, which made me thrill. I love his attention, and do anything to please him. We rang the doorbell and Jim answered, smiling wide as he admitted us. The living room was warm, scented candles giving a romantic feel in dim lighting. It felt special immediately.

"So, Jim, are you excited about tonight? How long has it been, anyway?" Jason shook hands with Jim in a friendly manner.

"God, yes. It's been two months, eight days and three hours. Give or take." Jim was obviously excited. The fact we were there to see him as he received his unusual reward and orgasm wasn't bothering him visibly. We were intimate with him and Erin. I had actually sucked Jim off once, while he was still in chastity (a miserable experience for him, I can assure you). I had also had the opportunity to do Erin more than once, and even the privilege of having her service me, as well. However, this would be the first time to see Jim naked and out of chastity.

We sat down at dinner. Erin had cooked a beautiful goulash, and paired it with a nice wine. We had two bottles between the four of us. Not enough to get drunk, but a little relaxed. Jim seemed a little nervous and expectant. My restraints made it difficult to eat, as I could not raise my hands to my face; so I resorted to bending over deeply to get my mouth close enough to my hands to get the fork into it. It was embarrassing, but far from the worst thing I have experienced.

When dinner was over, Erin brought out a small pill container. "This is Viagra. Jim doesn't really need it, but then again, I think it will enhance our play tonight."

Jim took the pill with a little wine, and we retired to the living room.

As we sat down, Jason casually said, "I think we should have our property undress, don't you?"

Erin agreed of course. Unquestioningly, I stood and begin removing my clothes, though the waist chain made it extremely difficult. Jason kindly unlocked and removed it, and I finished slipping my dress off, then my panties and bra. I stood naked for all to see, and lowered my head. My long hair covered my face until I remembered my etiquette and pushed it back so the two owners could see me.  I blushed a little but knelt before Jason in a submissive posture, knees spread and hands on thighs. He approved then patted the couch next to him. Honored, I sat next to him, naked, but no longer in a position of submission.

"Now, then, Jim. Please remove your clothes." Erin commanded Jim in an uncompromising tone. Jim stood in the middle of the living room and removed his clothes for us all to see. It was the first time I had seen him completely naked, and was impressed. He kept himself in very good shape for Erin, and I couldn't help but loving it.  His genitals were secured in the cage I had seen before, though his cock was bulging out a little. It looked uncomfortable.

Jason reached over to my lap and began idly stroking my pussy. I obediently opened my legs for him. It felt good to have him touch me, though it was always a little awkward being used in front of others.

Erin had Jim turn around a few times, exposing himself to us. She examined him, had him bend over and spread his legs, and then stand before us with legs spread, his cock cage dangling down. She teased him some, kissing him deeply, rubbing her body against his and even touching his dangling scrotum. His cock continued to expand inside the hard plastic, flesh bulging out and straining against captivity.

Finally, Erin took the key from where it hung between her breasts, pulled it over her head and knelt before her slave. She inserted the key into the lock and removed the base of the structure. Jim sighed as he felt the cage loosening, and closed his eyes, cherishing the moment. Next Erin grabbed the short tube that covered his cock and pulled. It took some effort to get it off, it was so tight. Finally is slipped off and his cock rose quickly into a solid, hard, erect form.

Erin moved around behind Jim and handcuffed his wrists so that he could not reach forward or touch his genitals. Jim stood submissive, though slightly puzzled.

I guess I must have been staring and showing my fascination, and maybe I was just a little bit wet. Jason could feel my body self lubricating as he stroked me, and the quickening of my breath as I saw Jim's huge cock finally free for the first time.

"What do you think, Siobhan? I think you like Jim uncaged." Jason asked in a low voice.

"Oh, Jason... please forgive me. Yes, he is well endowed, I can't help but admire. It's fun to see him finally free!" I said honestly.

"Well, would you like to feel him inside you?" Jason asked.

I flushed and hung my head. The question was difficult. I didn't want to answer. It actually hurt my feelings a bit that he had asked. "Please, Jason, I don't want anyone inside me but you. I am yours, and you are all I truly desire."

"I see. But you would take him if I instructed you to." Jason asked pointedly.

Erin had turned and was listening to our exchange. Jim stood still in the middle of the room, naked, his rock hard cock pulsing slightly with his beating heart. I thought for a moment.

"Of course, Jason. I am obedient to you. I would always do as you instruct, for your pleasure. But if I may be honest with you... I am yours. I want no one but you. Seeing Jim like this is arousing, yes. But I have no wish to be used by anyone but you."

"Very well, Siobhan. I understand. Here is how I wish to use you. I wish to use you to assist Jim in his quest for an orgasm. Erin and I will watch and enjoy. You may use any means you wish. Your hands. Your mouth. Your breasts. Your ass. Your pussy. Lube. No lube. Give us a good show. Show us your skills." Jason commanded me and I knew what I had to do.

Erin spoke up, "Yes, I think that is fitting. However, I have a one thing to add.  I must insist that you stimulate him but not allow him to ejaculate for one hour. Jason and I want a good show. After one hour you may allow him to cum. If he comes before one hour, both you and he will be punished. Is this clear?"

I was pretty certain I could do this. I can edge a man well, though I had never done it with Jim. It would be a challenge to read him, make sure I didn't go too far. Regardless, it didn't matter. This was what I was instructed to do and I would have to do it.

"Yes, ma'am." I said.

"That's my good girl," Jason added. He stopped stroking my pussy, and I stood and went over to Jason. The sight of his lean, muscular body before me had turned me on, and I could feel I was wet.  I sort of wanted him and wondered if I could or should allow him inside, as Jason had given me permission. On the other hand, I was Jason's, and never really wanted anyone but him. Instead I focused my mind on how to tease and stimulate Jim without bringing him to orgasm.

I knelt before him, and took his scrotum in my hand, pulling gently. He moaned quietly as I fondled the two firm blobs of flesh inside, not painfully but firmly. I took them into my mouth and tasted his salty flesh, working my tongue and lips around, filling my mouth with his balls. It was sort of fun, angling below him, watching his hips sort of shake a little as I teabagged him. His cock stood straight out as hard and erect as any I had ever seen. I think the viagra had really taken hold.

"You may play with yourself, if you wish, Siobhan," Jason said. At first I didn't. It felt weird, being naked in front of Erin like this, especially as I was working on her husband. After a while though, the whole situation sort of got me going. I mean, I am submissive. It is what I am. Being ordered to get naked and masturbate myself in front of two clothed, observing people, was a turn on. Not to mention I was working on Jim's privates, exploring every part of his body between his legs except for his hardened cock.

So eventually, I did. One hand slipped between my legs and I began rubbing, even slipping one finger inside.

After working on his balls and lapping his thighs I began to nuzzle my way between his ass cheeks. My tongue found his puckering anus, and slowly, insistently, pushed. His sphincter contracted and released, and it felt good to know I was making his body react. It didn't taste good (in fact it tasted like crap), but it was my job to use my best skills to stimulate Jim without bringing him to orgasm for one hour and I was determined to do a good job.

Jim was having trouble standing as I worked on him, still not touching his cock. His breathing came faster and he rocked back and forth. I could tell he wanted his cock touched for he shifted his hips slightly to try and get it to touch my hair or face when it came close. He was desperate for sensation and stimulation.

"May I have him lay back now?" I asked Erin politely.

"Yes, please." Erin was smiling, and I saw that she had moved closer to my husband. Their legs were touching as they watched me teasing Jim. It worried me a bit, but I returned my attention to Jim, sitting him down on a love seat that was close to the sofa where Erin and Jason were discretely touching each other.

Jim had a spot of pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock. I reached out and spread it slowly over the sensitive head, and then stroked slowly down. He gasped, feeling a woman's hand stroking him for the first time in months. I could feel the muscles between his legs contracting. He was already nearing climax, I knew I would have to be careful.

"Spread your legs, Siobhan, I want to see your cunt." Jason ordered me quietly, but with a voice that allowed no disobedience. I did as I was told. I was on my knees, leaning against the chair in which Jim leaned back with legs wide apart, so I slid my knees farther apart and angled my hips so my wet pussy could be seen easily by my husband and next door neighbor. My back was to them now.

My fingers stroked Jim's cock slowly. Whenever I felt a pulsing that indicated he might be getting too close to a climax, I immediately withdrew my hand. A few times, Jim moaned with frustration when I did this, but he knew as well as I that if he came in less than an hour, both he and I would be punished. We didn't want to be punished. It's never pleasant.

Finally I took his cock in my mouth, my lips surrounding his head and moving about slightly, tongue sliding along the bottom of his shaft. Then with a sudden movement I deep throated him. I am good at this. Jason has trained me, and over time I have learned to suppress the gag reflex and take a cock all the way down to my vocal chords if needed. As Jim felt his cock sink deep inside my face he thrust his hips, arched his back and moaned loudly.

I panicked; I didn't know how long it had been and I was worried Jim would spurt cum into my throat right then. I opened wide and pulled back, watching his cock as it bounced. I was relieved when only a tiny dribble came out. It was not precum, it was white, but there had been no orgasm as evidenced by Jim's frustrated growl. If his hands had been free I am sure he would have grabbed my head and forced it down on him right then.

His cock continued to bounce for a while, and cum dribbled out, sliding down the shaft a little at a time. The look on Jim's face was one of complete frustration. He was struggling, trying to get his hands around to his cock, but couldn't.

I realized that he had just had a ruined orgasm. A nasty one, too. An orgasm that had been held in chastity, locked away for over two months, teased and pulled from him (by me) and finally ready to blow. Then suddenly, stimulation removed, full pleasure not achieved, cum slowly squeezed out in dribbles.

Poor guy.

I turned and saw that Jason and Erin were sitting close to each other, their hands on each other. My husband's cock was out being stroked by Erin's hand, and he had his hand buried in her pants and I could see his fingers working her clit. They were having fun watching me perform with Jim. Seeing Jim suffering just made it more fun for them.

My face burned, seeing the two of them pleasuring each other. I was jealous. Yes, I had just spent a significant time masturbating Jim and giving him a blow job, but I had been instructed to. It was for their benefit, not mine. Seeing Erin with her hand on Jason's cock made my blood run warm. I said nothing, though. Jason is my master and I am not to question him.

"That was only 43 minutes. Nowhere near an hour," Erin said, looking at her watch. In doing so she had to remove her hand from my husband's cock, much to my satisfaction.

"But Erin, I didn't orgasm. She stopped. That was totally ruined, I didn't get off at all!" Jim's voice was a mix of frustration and whine.

"Well, from my perspective, Jim, you have a cock and balls covered with cum; that means you came." Erin got up and walked over to her naked husband, slid one finger up his still erect penis and licked.

"Yep, that's my husband's cum. I recognize the taste. You came, and in less than the one hour time limit. I was prepared to let you have some time out of your cage, but now.... well, you just can't control yourself. I guess it will be back inside for you!"

Erin went into the kitchen for a moment, and Jim sat glumly on the chair, legs spread, cock still hard though no longer pulsing. He was facing more time locked in chastity, and after having come so close to orgasm. I felt truly sorry for him. I sat on the couch next to Jason and leaned next to him, whispering in his ear.

"I did the best I could, really. I read him well. Please keep that in mind when you punish me."

Jason whispered back, "Don't worry Siobhan. I saw how well you did. I think your punishment might consist of allowing me to fuck you tonight, and then sleep in my arms."

"Ohh!" I caught my breath at this and lowered my head. That was no punishment, it was my dearest delight to be taken by my man, and then held by him after.

Jim, on the other hand, sat still as Erin returned from the kitchen with a bowl filled with ice and water. She knelt before Jim as he obediently placed his cock and balls into the freezing cold, sucking air in between his teeth from the temperature shock. It must have hurt, leaving his genitals in the ice as it slowly melted, and his cock slowly shriveled. The viagra was fighting the ice, but eventually lost. The shriveled remnant of erection disappeared, and his penis hung limp and numb from the cold.

I think I saw a tear trickle down one cheek as Erin took the male chastity device and slid it back on. Jim turned his head away when the lock clicked into place. Who knew how long before he would be free again? Erin was a bitch to him. I was happy that I was owned by Jason.

A while later I had put my clothes back on to walk back to our house, this time without the restraints. I felt proud to be by Jason's side, free and unrestrained, holding his hand.  Once inside our home I removed my clothes and we went to bed. Jason did as he promised, fucking me twice, unrestrained so that I could wrap my arms and legs around him and hold him close. After the second time we spooned, and I drifted off to sleep wrapped in my owner's protective arms.

Thursday, September 19, 2013


A while back I discovered a new fetish.

I really thought I had found my niche, my place in life. A subservient, owned slave of my husband, lover and owner. I endure pain for him, experience humiliation for his pleasure, and strive to please him in every way. My body is his, my mind is his. In this place I am happy and fulfilled.

How have I discovered a new fetish, a new enhancement to my life?

It happened on my birthday. Jason always celebrates my birthday with me, for which I am grateful. His attention delights me, in whatever form it takes. His gifts are always thoughtful and appropriate.  This year Jason gave me several presents. They represented more than I could ever hope for. I knelt naked on the floor before him as I opened the packages.

There was a promised trip to visit the woman with whom I had shared a stall at the pony farm. Even though I would be serving her master during the trip (which made me very nervous), the prospect of seeing her delighted me.

There was also a new sapphire pendant for my collar; I love sapphires, and anything which adorns this symbol of my slave status so beautifully makes me shiver in delight and pride.

The last box was long, such as flowers might be delivered in. I opened it, wondering if he had gotten me roses, but when the lid came off all I saw was fur. I reached out and touched it, puzzled. The fur was real, or felt real, and was incredibly soft and fluffy. I looked and stroked it for a while, and then lifted the object from the box. It was long, tapering off at one end. At the other was a rubber plug. A butt plug.

All at once it hit me. It was a tail. Jason had gotten me a tail for my birthday, a long, soft, brownish tail that looked like it might belong to a fox. I began to smile, though I must have also looked puzzled as I held it up to my face and let the softness stroke my cheek. The end ran over my breasts lightly, and felt good, causing my nipples to become erect.

"You are not only my wife and slave, you are my dearest pet," Jason said, stroking my hair. "I thought it might be nice to play with a tail some. What do you think?"

"I love it, Jason. Thank you, so much. Does it make you happy?" I really did love it.

"Of course, dear, but it will make me happier if you wear it."

I stood, turning my back to him and spread my legs slightly. Bending over slightly and exposing my naked anus, I took the plug end of the tail and slid it between my ass cheeks. He observed as I slowly pressed the rubber plug against my anus, pushing out slightly to relax the sphincter and make it easier to enter.

"Do you need any lube?" Jason was always thoughtful.

"No, I am used to this. I can do it."

Pressing harder, slowly working the widening rubber plug deeper and deeper, I finally reached my other hand down between my legs so it could help. I stepped a bit further apart and bent over more and then pressed with both hands. Even with my sphincter trained to relax and accept objects into my ass, it took a little working to get it in.  Finally, the widest point of the plug slipped through and my muscles closed around the narrower neck.

The plug filled my rectum completely, not unpleasantly, but I did feel very full. I raised my body up and brought my legs together. The soft fur tail came out from between my ass cheeks and descended almost to my knees, brushing nicely against the back of my legs as I moved.

I wriggled my ass for Jason, who laughed. "Does it feel like it might come out?" He asked, stroking the tail and the back of my thighs at the same time.

I shivered with delight at his touch. "No, that's a pretty big plug. I feel like I need to poop pretty badly, but it also feels good. I really love the feel of the tail."

Jason fetched a leash and locked it onto my collar. "I would like you to be on your hands and knees for the rest of the evening. You are my pet tonight."

Dropping down, I crawled over to him, feeling the tail brush my naked flesh. We played with it, and I learned how to make it wag and flip around. Jason fondled it, and other parts of me. The tail rapidly became an integral part of my body, one that I enjoyed. It made me feel soft and playful and happy.

We had birthday cake that evening, Jason eating his on a plate while sitting on the sofa. I ate mine from a plate on the floor, still on all fours. My face was quite a mess, given I was not allowed to use my hands. Jason cleaned me up and I lay my head on his lap as he stroked my hair. If I could have purred, I would have. I was the happiest pet girl ever.

I could feel Jason's hardening erection as my head lay on his thighs. Responding, I nuzzled through his pants. I wasn't allowed to use my hands except for walking, for I was his pet. So I pushed and rooted about, encouraging his cock as best I could. Finally he unzipped and pulled it out. Eagerly, I took it and let it fill my mouth, feeling his hard flesh slide across my tongue and the roof of my mouth until the head pressed against my throat.

Pushing my head down as far as it would go, his cock slipped back into my throat. Years of practice
enable me to suppress the gag reflex while doing this, and it feels amazing to be so filled and feel the throbbing, pulsing member deep inside me. I withdrew most of the way, feeling the penetration of the tail on one end and Jason's member on the other. He reached down and grabbed my tail, pulling it up and over my back, causing the plug to wriggle and stimulate me down there. I in turn took him deep, sliding him in and out, using my tongue and throat to play and massage his sensitive skin.

He came inside me, spurting down my throat. I swallowed every bit as it streamed into my mouth. Jason tastes like a mix of musk and fruit with a hint of bleach. Not an unpleasant taste, and because it is his, I take it eagerly.  His playing with my tail was stimulating me and made me aroused, but not enough to have a climax, though I wanted one.

"I want to fuck you with your tail on." Jason had grown somewhat soft, but I knew with a little encouragement he would become hard again. I knew his body as well as my own. Using my mouth, I licked and teased until his cock stood hard again, and then slid to the floor on all fours, with my ass up in the air, tail hanging down, legs slightly apart. Jason slid down behind me and lifted the tail up so it rested on my back. I was ready, quivering wet as his cock slid home. I gasped, feeling the fullness of both his cock and the butt plug. The softness of my tail on my back felt good too, and as he began to pound in and out I grunted and lowered my front down until my breasts squashed flat on the carpet.

It didn't take long for me to cum. I was so aroused by the sensations involved with the tail, and his taking me in this way that I shuddered and cried out while he was still pushing hard. He lasted a lot longer, ramming home, jiggling my entire body with the force of his thrusts. I was gasping, panting, clutching the carpet as he fucked me doggie style; and I came again, moaning and grunting like the animal I was.

Jason finally came inside me, and we collapsed together. I rolled to my side and wrapped my arms and legs around him, my tail resting between my thigh and his.

That evening Jason took my leash and guided me to a cage that he kept, though it wasn't used often. He set me inside with a bowl of water and shut the door. I curled up happily as he readied himself for bed and then turned the lights out.

From that day I have loved being Jason's pet. I am his wife first and his slave second. But at times when he is playful he will allow me to wear the tail and I become his pet. The whole sensation is rather a mystery to me, why it is so exciting. Part of it is wearing the plug. Part is the softness of the fur, touching my buttocks and legs. A big part of it is feeling that I have been reduced to the state of an animal, and am truly Jason's pet. I feel sexy and exotic with my tail, and would wear it much more of the time if I were allowed. I love the tail as a symbol of being a beautiful, soft, feminine pet animal, and when he plays with it, and with me, I am happy.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Selling Pain and Humiliation for Cash

I've described how I experimented with self-bondage at a very early age and slowly introduced myself to bondage with others. I was hooked; there was nothing better to me than feeling lost and out of control, completely subject to the whims of another, male or female.

After self bondage, I did some tie-up games with other girls, and even expanded that to some sexual relationships. I found the bondage was more intense and satisfying with men, in spite of my attraction to women. Men were more unpredictable, riskier, and more sexually aggressive as dominants, and they always seemed to fit my needs better. Girls were fun, but I never felt complete loss of personal freedom or control with them.

By the time I was 19, I had been in several submissive relationships with men, some better than others. I enjoyed each one in its own way, and felt like every step in expanding my limits and delving deeper into my submissive nature was exciting. I kept searching for the right guy, the one that would take me, demand from me, discipline and punish me, take my will away and make me his. I will write about some of these early experiences at some time, I am sure.

There came a time when I was curious whether I could take my natural interest and desire and parlay it into some money. I knew bondage models made cash but not much about the industry. Porn wasn't really an interest of mine and I wasn't about to begin a career in it, but I kept wondering if I couldn't indulge in my natural desires, satisfy myself at some level, and actually get paid for it. I struggled with this concept and finally decided to give it a try.

I really have to emphasize that I was inexperienced in this area. I quickly browsed some sites. Most were awful. The girls actually seemed happy and smiled at the camera, the ropes looked like they would fall off by themselves at any moment, and many sites were filled with simple porn that had some padded handcuffs thrown in for spice. That actually nauseated me and I was about to give up on the idea when I ran across something that looked really interesting. The images were dark, and the girls looked like there was really no way they were getting loose. There were some bizarre things going on, but I zipped over to the application page and filled it out.

The application had a long list of questions, some basics about body type and looks, but these quickly gave way to questions about limits. Just reading through the questions excited me. There were questions concerning breath play. Questions about pain. Electricity. Nudity. Public exposure. Humiliation. Penetration. piercing and blood. Wow. It was as if I was reading about a whole new world that I wanted to dive into. I checked off a bunch of the questions as 'yes' and submitted the app.

Skip straight to the interview. I guess I was pretty and young enough because they called me right away. The company wasn't that close, so I took a day off to visit. A guy interviewed me and seemed interested. He was old and sort of goofy in a sinister way. I remembered wondering whether he was for real, but when he showed me the studio and the rigging he had, it was obvious. This guy was serious. And I wanted to try it out. I mean, fuck... he had chains. I had never been in chains. There was a set of stocks in the corner. It was like a playroom and I wanted to play, though I tried hard not to show it.

The last part of the interview was me taking my clothes off. I made it clear right then I wasn't going to fuck him, and didn't want any surprises later when I was tied up. He assured me that he would not stick any part of his body into any part of mine, and so I removed my clothes and stood naked in front of a complete stranger. He turned me around, had me bend over with legs spread. After he examined me in a rather humiliating manner, touching and probing flesh, he told me to put my clothes back on. I think the whole thing was a test to verify I was really willing to flash my cunt in front of a stranger.

I signed an agreement, received a brief set of written instructions, a date was set, and that was that.

The day of the shoot I was nervous, but excited. My boyfriend at the time tied me up for sex but wasn't really interested in dominating me so I was looking forward to this bizarre situation with some strange old guy and some truly heavy bondage. On the other hand, I really had no idea what would happen. The guy had assured me that he wouldn't take me beyond my limits, but had also told me that payment was contingent on my completing the shoot. I could bail at any time, but wouldn't get paid if I did.

Arriving at the warehouse that served as the photography studio / dungeon, I parked and took a small bag with me into the building. The bag contained a change of clothes and some basic toiletries. I was wearing a light cotton dress, knee length, bra and panties underneath, and running shoes. My legs and pussy were freshly shaved, and I thought I looked pretty good. An older woman greeted me at the front like I was in an insurance office, and sent me back to where the old guy was working in the studio. He had me dump my bag and introduced me to three other men. I hadn't realized there would be that many people there, and felt my nerves get rattled.

"What is this, I wasn't expecting a bunch of extra guys here."

The old guy, his name was Bruce, explained, "Well, we have one video person, one for still shots, and one for sound. John also helps with the rigging. Though frankly, it shouldn't matter that much. We are filming this for distribution, you know, which means there will be tens of thousands of guys jerking off while looking at you."

Oh. It sunk in. Yes, of course, this was going to be photographed and sold. I was about to let a huge number of men masturbate while watching me tied and helpless. It was a humiliating concept, and sort of exciting. I felt dirty, but it also felt really good to know I was giving myself up to this. I was about to be used. This was tapping some deep inner need in me and it felt good. In fact, it was a little scary how good it felt to know I was about to debase myself in this way.

The studio was barren; old brick walls, concrete floors, metal beams exposed in the ceiling. Wires all over, though none in the area where filming would take place, they were pushed back. Several metal devices were over at the side and a single wooden chair sat in the middle of the open space. I sat down in it, fully clothed, waiting as the guys finished prepping. The chair was hard and uncomfortable. I pulled my dress down to my knees. It was weird sitting here, being ignored, like a prop.

Bruce started to talk to me, and I suddenly realized they had already been filming. A cold chill went through me. I was on camera. ACK!

Bruce asked my name: "Siobhan".

He said I was very pretty. "Thank you." I smiled. I like that I am pretty.

He asked whether I was familiar with the site: "Yes, I have looked at it a little bit."

Was I interested in bondage, or there for the money? "Both, really."

Had I experienced bondage before? "Yes. I enjoy it regularly."

And so on... finally, he said, "Let's get started. Turn sideways in the chair."

He took my arms and pulled them behind my back, quickly tying them at the wrists and then the elbows. I had never been tied so quickly, and the result felt absolutely secure. In a matter of seconds I was no longer able to use my arms or get free. My elbows were pressed together, which hurt a little though I am fairly thin and flexible so it wasn't too bad. The guy with the video camera moved around to get a different angle, and it seemed like he was panning across my body, so I struggled a little bit for him. It seemed like the right thing to do. It confirmed that there was no way I was getting out of this tie.

A hook descended from the ceiling and was placed under the ropes binding my elbows together. It pulled up, lifting my arms back and up.

Whoa. That hurt a little more. It went beyond a little discomfort into the realm of actual pain, the muscles and tendons of my shoulders twisting and stretching. I automatically stood on my tiptoes to relieve the pressure. It helped though my feet would get tired pretty soon. The video guy went around me and disappeared.

The weirdness and seriousness of this experience sank in as I hung there, dancing on my toes. The guys in the studio were either off behind me doing something, or taking pictures, but that was it. I was just hanging there, in a very uncomfortable situation, almost ignored. This was different than anything I had experienced before. It was truly inescapable, totally beyond my control as I had never experienced before. With guys before I knew that it was part of sex play, and that the guys were having fun and would let me go if I asked.

My sense of helplessness was enhanced when Bruce returned and put a ball gag in front of my face. I reluctantly opened my mouth and he slid it in place. It was a big one, and I could feel jaw muscles stretching as he pulled it deep inside, pressing my tongue down and pulling the corners of my mouth. I bit down as he buckled it behind. Well... so much for any safe words, I thought. I dangled some more. The video and still cameras were capturing my predicament in detail, and even though I still had my clothes on I felt more exposed than ever. My dress was pulled up across my boobs tightly, stomach exposed, and the edge of the skirt pulled high enough the camera was catching a glimpse of my snatch.

I wasn't nervous any more. I was excited, turned on, and a little scared. I could swear my panties were getting wet.

My ankles were tied together. Bruce did it with such ease, and the final result was clearly inescapable. It was harder to keep on my toes and there was more pressure on my shoulders and arms. They were in pain now, a low throb. I whimpered a few times. The video guy loved it.

The ball gag was making me drool. I knew this happened, most gags make me drool, and this was no exception. My face was forced down some from the weird position of my arms, and I could see long threads of drool descending to the floor and collecting in a tiny puddle. The camera captured the body fluids as I lost them through my mouth. Shit, this is humiliating, I thought.

Scissors. Bruce arrived and started at the bottom of my dress. Oh my god, he was cutting my clothes off. No wonder they had warned me to wear old clothes I didn't mind messing up. "Messing up" meant cutting to shreds. Shit, shit, shit. The cut rose up from my right thigh, past my waist and to the arm. Feeling the cold metal of the scissor blade made my skin crawl. A couple of more snips at the shoulder and the rag that had been my dress fell off and was discarded.

The video camera moved in front of me as Bruce moved behind, reaching around and running his hands over my helpless body, feeling my flesh. They roamed, running down and sliding under my panties (oh god, I shuddered). The old guy pressed his hand between my legs and massaged my pussy. I felt myself flush, and grunted, moaning with mixed disgust and embarrassment. He could feel just how wet I was, and believe me, I was wet. He knew I was aroused now and I felt like a slut. A slut he was using in just the way a slut should be used.

His hands slid back up (the video camera capturing it) and slid under my bra, fingers pinching my nipples. I moaned again, this time in complete frustration at being used by this old man for his pleasure as he filmed it for his profit.  But then, I had sold myself to him. I was in fact his, for the next few hours.

He cut my bra off. He didn't have to do that. He could have unhooked it or even undressed me before I was tied up like that. No, he chose to cut my clothes off of me. My breasts bounced slightly as the bra suddenly snapped free and dropped to the floor. Two snips and my panties were gone as well. Except for shoes, I was naked and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The simple act of cutting my clothes off made me feel more alone, helpless and submissive than I had ever felt in my life.

The cameras (video and still) got good shots of my cunt, though with my ankles tied together they probably couldn't see much. My arms were really beginning to ache and I wondered how long I would be here. Didn't they realize how much this was hurting me? My drool ran down in a river, getting on my boobs and chest.

What I didn't realize is that these guys didn't stop. Things just kept getting worse. Instead of giving me some relief, they added to the pain. Nipple clamps appeared before my eyes. Not nice little ones that hurt a little, but big fucking evil ones; one went on my left nipple and he ratcheted it tight. "Fuuccckkkkk" I said, though with the gag it came out something like "ccggggkkkk". The right nipple fared no better, the clamp squeezing home and crushing the sensitive flesh. "GGGGGGGgggggggkkkk" I said.

Tears were coming to my eyes. My arms hurt, my shoulders hurt, and my nipples were aching, badly. I wasn't sobbing but the pain was enough to make me cringe and draw some water from my tear ducts. Showing just how callous they were, the cameramen zoomed into my face, showing the pain and watching a tear trickle down one cheek.

It kept going. Weights were added to the clamps. Holy fuck. My boobs were dragged down and pulled, making the clamps hurt worse. I began to wonder how long I had been there. It seemed like a long time but it wasn't, not really. We had just gotten started. The thought made me cringe and the pain seemed sharper.

Bruce put one hand on my face, caressing it, leaning in and kissing my cheek. I looked at him, sort of pleading, trying to let him know that I was his but I really wanted him to show some mercy. He nuzzled my neck, kissed it affectionately, and then moved away. I realized he wanted to see me broken, pleading, and that's pretty much were I was headed. Bastard.

Things slowed down for a bit at that point. I just hung there, standing on the balls of my feet to try and relieve some of the pressure on my arms in back. The weighted nipple clamps had stopped hurting so much, and felt just sort of achy-numb. My drool was collecting around the ball gag in a sort of foam before it dripped down to the floor. The worst part was the way my arms were pulled up behind me. The whole thing was just humiliating and painful.

I have to admit I was loving it in a way that was totally surprising me.

They left me there to deal with the discomfort for maybe 10 or 15 minutes, whimpering. It was at this point I saw the video monitor. It showed what the video camera was filming, so I could see myself. What I saw shocked me. I looked terrible; my arms were red and twisted, my face was streaked with tears and running mascara, my boobs looked like an old lady's, dangling down because of the weighted clamps. I was so embarrassed, it made the whole experience worse and I looked away. I didn't want to see myself suffering.

When Bruce came back he predictably made things worse. With a slow, even pull he raised my elbows and arms further up behind my back, until I was lifted off my feet. Fuck, it hurt and dangling in the air like that was like... so demeaning. The ropes pinched hard, and my legs started to kick automatically. I quickly learned that kicking, a natural response to being suspended, just jerked my body and made it hurt more. So I settled on just hanging there, breathing, watching the camera men walk around getting various shots of my misery.

Finally Bruce lowered the rope holding my arms up. I sank back down onto my feet with relief and took a big deep breath. Bruce played with the nipple clamps a bit, but they were numb. Then he removed one of them. and my nipple exploded in pain. I screamed for just a moment, caught unawares. Clamps hurt going on and coming off. When he went to the other clamp, he kissed me and fondled my breast as I held my breath waiting. Then the second one was off, and I only yelped behind the gag a little bit. I remember thinking, well crap... at least that's over with.  What a dumb thought that was.

I was lowered all the way to the floor where I lay for a bit, just resting. Bruce undid the ball gag and ropes binding my arms. There was a clock on the wall. I had been there an hour and a half. I had committed to spending four hours. Whoa. The camera guys were taking a break as well, so I guess this was the OSHA required work break time. Not that I was going anywhere. Bruce rolled me over onto my stomach and tied my arms arms behind my back, left wrist to right elbow and vice-versa. I was still immobile but it no longer hurt. It was downright comfortable.

He slowly drew my legs up in front of me, adding rope interconnecting my knees, ankles, and neck in a strange intricate tie. He pushed my uncooperative legs into place and tied them back to my body. I remember thinking how grateful I was that I was flexible; it was a little like doing the splits. It didn't hurt, but was very tight and somewhat uncomfortable. The ropes that held my arms behind me also criss crossed my boobs, squeezing them and making them stand out.

I lay on my back, legs tied up high, with my pussy exposed clearly. This was so much more fucking intense that anything I had ever imagined. I lay there for a while, unable to move even a tiny bit, tied into a sort of human ball.

Bruce lifted me up and slipped a leather  loop around my neck and then pulled up on it. It choked me and I coughed. Holding me upright until I was balanced, they let go and the noose was the main thing that kept me sitting in an upright position. I was tied and couldn't move a muscle, so the leather strap around my neck was my only way of staying upright. If I fell one way or another, it squeezed tight and strangled me. My head was forced slightly to the side and I looked up, away from my body. Moving my head was impossible.

I was sitting on my ass, except my legs were tied up in front of me, all the way to my boobs. My ass and cunt were exposed. My ass was sitting on the floor on the bony part and hurt. Suspended from the ceiling, I had to keep from moving or the noose would tighten around my neck. It was a painful, miserable, exposed and humiliating position.  Bruce pulled on the strap around my neck a little, making sure it was tight (the bastard).

Wondering if this could get any worse, I sat there, trying not to move. Of course it can get worse, I discovered. How? I met Mr. Pogo.  Mr. Pogo was a short wood handle with a large stiff rubber dildo at the end. Bruce took Mr. Pogo and smeared it with lube. Oh my god... I knew what he was going to do with it. Protest was useless, in fact it would just be filmed in detail. I clenched my teeth.

The end of the dildo was rubbed against my pussy. I hate to say it felt good, but it did. With each rub, it went a little further, spreading my lips and penetrating just a little more. Finally he shoved it in and I gasped. Holy crap that thing was huge. I felt like I was having a baby in reverse, the flesh of my vagina distended and stretching to allow the phallus inside. He pulled it part way out and then shoved it in again, and began fucking me with the thing.

It hurt. It was humiliating. I grunted and groaned as it shoved back and forth, getting deeper and wriggling around. He kept going, pushing in and out, harder and harder. I wanted to cum, but couldn't. My nipples grew hard, and I knew Bruce was aware of my reactions; he knew just how women reacted and he knew me. He was playing me. Just when I thought the pain might get to be too much he pulled Mr. Pogo out. A wave of relief swept over me.

"You looked like you were enjoying that. You were, weren't you?" Bruce was  talking to me from above where it was hard to see. The video camera was zoomed in on me.

"Yes," I said in a raspy voice because of the leather noose around my neck.

"Let's see if we can help you with that." Bruce knelt down but I couldn't see what he was going to do. Didn't matter... whatever he wanted to do he was going to do. There was a buzzing noise.

A vibrator. It touched my pussy, massaging the fold of flesh and finding my clit. The sensation was overpowering, the vibration just on my clit, nowhere else, driving me insane. My eyes rolled up in my head and I started to make gurgling moans. I forgot completely that the cameras were filming me, and just let myself be swept by the stimulation. Not long after I grunted and moaned through an orgasm and the vibrator was removed.

Realizing I had just been forced to have an orgasm on camera, I almost began crying. My face was streaked from tears already, but the humiliation of that experience was beyond anything I had imagined could happen.

"You know, we require that our girls ask for permission to cum. Didn't you know that?" Bruce was sort of amused.


"Yep. And I think you just came without permission. For that, you will need to be punished."

Oh... my god... he was going to do something worse to me? What the fuck could he do short of cutting off limbs... slicing open my abdomen and choking me with my own entrails... I was horrified... terrified... I wanted to orgasm again so badly...

A few minutes later I was strapped to a metal chair. I use the term "chair" with caution. It was shaped like a chair and I sat in it, but that's where the similarity ended. It was made of steel, just a frame of squarish tubes and no padding or any covering at all between the metal tube frame. I was strapped in tightly at ankles, knees, wrists, elbows, even neck. I had drunk some water kindly provided by the still camera guy, because I had been sweating profusely and dehydrated during the last three hours.

Punishment began.

More clamps. These had metal wires surrounding the clamps and long lead wires to a small black box. One nipple clamp had a red wire, the other black. I wasn't dumb. I knew what this meant. Pain. Simple, unadulterated, electrical shock pain. On my sensitive nipples, rippling and radiating through the soft flesh of my boobs. I caught a glimpse of myself on the monitor and turned my head away, though not before I saw the look of fear on my face.  The video guy was loving it.  So was Bruce.

"Tell me, did you cum just a little while ago?" Bruce asked.

Scared, I shook my head. "No."

It suddenly felt like my nipples were being stabbed with red hot needles, deep into my boobs. I jerked and yelped. The pain only lasted a second, but I panted and was crazed from the sudden pain for 10 or 15 seconds after.

"Don't lie to me. If you lie you know what will happen. Do you know what will happen?"

I nodded.

My entire body convulsed as the red hot pain shot through my nipples and across my chest. I screamed a little this time.

"Speak up clearly when you speak to me. Do you know what will happen if you lie?" Bruce said with an amused tone. He liked seeing me writhe.

"Yes sir, I will get a shock." I got out.

"Good, yes. Now, we don't allow orgasms here unless permission is given. Did you receive permission?"

I was stuck. "No, I didn't have permission."

"Then you will be punished. How shall we punish you?"

I thought for a second. A second too long. I imagined the smell of burned flesh as the muscles of my body tensed from the piercing pain that seemed to fill each of my breasts like acid milk.

"Speak up. How shall we punish you?"

"A spanking?" I quickly said.

Bruce laughed. "Good idea, but no. I think we will give you a little shock. This was the lowest setting. I think we will raise it to the middle setting."

Bruce adjusted knobs on the black box, and I whimpered, crying, tears running down my cheeks as I waited for the electrical impulse. It came not long after, and I clenched my teeth and arched my back against the surging pain that coursed between my breasts. In the back of my brain I remembered that electric shocks above the waist were dangerous. It could mess with the heart, even stop it. What the fuck was this guy doing?

"Fuck... you..." I said in between clenched teeth as I recovered from the last shock.

Instead of getting angry, Bruce actually laughed. "Well, maybe later. But for now, I think we need to just continue the discipline."

He left for a moment while I panted, getting my breath back. When he returned, Bruce was carrying a plastic freezer bag and a leather strap. He carefully opened and expanded the bag and then put it over my head. I could still see the studio pretty well, though it was slightly distorted.

Then Bruce put the leather strap around my neck, sealing the plastic bag.  I should have remembered the principle of that place by now. However awful it is, it will always get worse. As I breathed, the air in the bag was sucked into my lungs, collapsing the bag around my head. Breathing out, the bag expanded until it was filled and round.

The shock hit me again, pain zapping my poor nipples. Each shock seemed worse than before, the nerves raw and damaged. I screamed and the plastic back expanded out like a balloon. I sucked air in and the bag collapsed. Except breathing in it wasn't... good enough. The air didn't satisfy. I breathed out and in again, this time more urgently. The air simply was getting worse. Oxygen had gone out of it, and while I was still breathing, it wasn't giving my body what it needed. I kept panting in and out, the inside of the plastic bag fogging with moisture, but I was suffocating.

Wham. The electric shock hit me again. I screamed, and then continued panting. I knew it didn't matter, but my body insisted. I felt discomfort in all my limbs and my heart was pounding. I sucked in as hard as I could, trying to get some air in through a crack, anything. Nothing. The plastic bag was sucked into my open mouth, but there was no air. I gnawed on the bag, trying to get a hole in it.  My brain was screaming in panic, and I started shaking my head, trying to shake the cobwebs of creeping unconsciousness.

I saw Bruce outside the bag reach forward and cut a small bit of the corner of the bag off. It was only a quarter of an inch, but it was enough. Cold, fresh air came when I sucked in. I felt my lungs and heart react, and the blackness that had started to overcome me receded. I breathed for a while, getting air back into my lungs, though the small opening made it difficult and laborious.

Bruce was standing next to me. He took fingers and closed up the air hole in the bag. Immediately the air started to go stale again, and within four or five breaths the oxygen was gone and I was begging him to let me breathe.

"What will you do for me if I let you breathe?" He asked.

"Anything. Anything. Please..." I was begging.

"You said earlier that you wanted to fuck me. Do you still want to?"

I paused a moment. I didn't want to fuck him, but I wanted to breathe. I didn't know what this bastard would do next, but I had learned my lesson. It can always get worse.

I nodded.

A quick jolt of electricity made me jerk in pain. I screamed out, "YES! YES, PLEASE LET ME FUCK YOU!"

The strap at the bottom of the bag was loosened and the bag removed. I sucked in precious air. It was so wonderful. I breathed in, sucking fresh air, feeling oxygenated blood flood my body. It was wonderful.

I sat for a while, recovering. I noticed the camera guys for the first time in a while. The experience had been so intense I had completely forgotten where I was. It had all been filmed, including my breakdown and pleading. Wow.

There was a slight smell of urine. I looked down and saw I was wet. I had peed a little from the shocks, or the baggie, or both, without knowing it. That had probably been caught on video as well.

Bruce was back, thankfully removing the electric nipple clamps. What a relief. "So, I think maybe we should finish up but we have time for one more activity. I will let you choose. Would you like Mr. Pogo again, or maybe have your breasts caned? Six strokes, each side."

I thought about it for a moment. Mr. Pogo was unpleasant, no two ways about it. Bruce was holding the cane; it was a small, relatively thin flexible strip of bamboo. It looked so small, lightweight. I hated Mr. Pogo because of how it had almost made me orgasm in front of the camera, and I didn't want that again. The cane didn't look bad at all.

"The cane..." I said hesitantly.

Bruce smirked (he hardly ever actually smiled, just a smirk). Standing to the side of the bondage chair, he tapped the stick across my left breast. Tap, tap, tap... then a stronger stroke. It wasn't hard, but whoa, did I jump. It stung. A sharp, cutting sting. I yelped. The cane continued tapping slowly... not hurting, maybe a little uncomfortable, but then... whack! Another stroke.

"Oh my god!" I yelped. I had never been caned, and didn't realize just how painful it was. My poor breast. Each stroke left a raw sting, like being slapped, hard. The thin bamboo didn't lessen the pain, in fact, the thinner stick increased the cutting action and made it hurt with less force.

The video camera zoomed in close on face, recording my pained expression and reactions from each stroke. It didn't matter. My left boob was throbbing by then and Bruce was moving over to the right one. Tap... tap... stroke.  The pain built with each stroke. One stroke on top of another. The soft flesh of my boobs bounced with each strike, and by the time he was over I was crying, tears running down my cheeks.

And then the session was over. I was released. A feeling of relief flooded my body. I had made it through, lived a bondage and domination session far beyond I had ever experienced, and come out the other side. I stood and walked naked off the set area, got my bag and took a shower in the restroom. Fresh clothes and feeling clean did wonders.

Bruce met me in the hall as I walked out of the restroom. "Come into the office for a moment."

I went in and sat down. My body still hurt, but I was feeling a lot better. Nothing permanent was damaged.

Bruce took out a check and handed it to me. $1,500 for four hours work. It was damned miserable work, but it was the best I had ever been paid for anything. I just stared at the check for a while.

"You did really well. I never got the feeling you were at your limits and you stuck it out. I would be happy to work with you again sometime." Bruce was almost smiling.

"Uh... yeah... well, this was just sort of an experiment with me." I wasn't sure I wanted to repeat the experiment.

"Trust me," Bruce nodded his head at me. "I know women, and you were actually enjoying some of that. This is something you can do. Give it some thought. Up to you. And if you ever want to engage in some private play, let me know."

As I walked out to my car I thought about it. He was right. I had never, not once, considered stopping the scenes. It had been horrible, painful, degrading, humiliating, agonizing and I had loved it. It just seemed right to me. Thinking back, when I had screamed out that I would fuck Bruce, I had meant it. I would have done it and gladly, because it seemed the right thing; to be dominated and forced into submission. It was natural for me.

That night my boyfriend saw the angry red welts on my breasts, and I told him what I had done. There was an argument, and we broke up. He wasn't going to be able to give me what I needed, and he didn't like what he saw in me. We weren't destined for each other.