Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Dildo Stool

The honeymoon had been awesome. I had devoted myself completely to my new husband and master, and felt more fulfilled than I ever had.

I think I had also had more sex than in any other one week period. Jason was amazing, he seemed to be always erect and ready. There were a few times when we began making love when the cum from the last session was still sticky on my stomach and legs. I was sore in places I didn’t know I could be sore.

All things come to an end, and it was time to return to normal life (or so I thought). We had work beginning the next day, and the house needed to be cleaned; I wanted to get to bed early so I could be ready for work the next day. I began to pick up some of the remnants of our wedding and reception, and was about to get the vacuum out when Jason stopped me.

“Siobhan, dear. I appreciate your desire to keep the house in good order. However, I prefer to fuck you right now.”

“Jason, I have to get this place in order before work tomorrow and it is a mess. You know how I hate to leave a mess around. Besides I am just too sore right now, I don’t think I could stand to fuck one more time,” I smiled at him, kissed him lightly and returned to my cleaning.

Jason stood looking at me for a moment, and then reached out and took hold of my neck collar firmly. A second later a leash clicked in to place and he pulled me away, half dragging me down the hall. I knew I was in trouble and the best way to minimize the results was to just go with the flow and submit. Lucky for me, that’s what I do really well.

He dragged me down the stairs in to the basement and positioned me in the middle of the room. I was partially clothed, and he proceeded to remove what bits of cloth covered me. When my flesh was completely exposed to the cold basement air, he stood and looked at me appraisingly.

“Siobhan, I have to admit that you have one of the most outstanding bodies I have ever seen. But we need to work on you a bit. You see, when I say I want to fuck you, it means we are going to fuck. Period. It doesn’t matter whether you are sore or not. I think we may need illustrate this principle.”

He went to the side of the room and pulled out a low wooden stool. I had seen it before, but we had never used it. I noticed now that it had a small hole in the center. Jason went over to a cabinet on the side of the room, and removed an odd looking thing, that appeared to be dildo shaped but was too straight and pointed. He placed the base of this on the hole in the stool and pressed it down until it was firmly in place. A lubed condom went over it, and his intentions were crystal clear.

“Sit on the stool.” There was no emotion, no sympathy in his voice, just command.

I cautiously manuevered myself over the stool, and lowered myself on to the pointed wooden dildo. At first, it played with the lips of my pussy, and I slid it back and forth to loosen my flesh, get the lube spread around and begin the process of sliding it in. I looked up at Jason with big eyes as I slowly, carefully, slid down further on to the spiked dildo.

The further the horrid thing went in, the worse it felt. It was wide, very wide, and as I went down I felt the flesh of my pussy stretching. He urged me one, impatient at my careful approach and I shoved down a little more and gasped. I still hand’t gotten the thing in all the way and it was going to hit my cervix soon. I slid up and down on it a couple of times, trying to get used to the feeling of being distended by this stiff thing, and then slid down.

There was a sense of relief when my ass touched the stool, though as my weight came to a rest I felt the point of the dildo impale my cervix. It was pressing up and I thought it might enter me further if I wasn’t careful. It turned out I had little choice.

Jason took out come rope and proceeded to tie my arms together, and then raised my legs off the floor so I could not support any of my weight at all. I was thoroughly, totally impaled on the dildo stool, as he tied my ankles up to the stool legs.

The dildo hurt, not a lot, but it was definitely uncomfortable and I whimpered some. When Jason heard the noise, he smiled and kissed me. “That’s my girl. Suffer for me. It pleases me.”

And so I did. I sat there, tied to the dildo stool, the pain of being distended and impaled slowly growing, suffering for him. Suffering for my lover, my husband, my master. And in suffering, I felt myself becoming aroused, very aroused. I wiggled a little, just to feel the dildo stroke and stim me just a little.

Jason left me there, naked on the stool in the basement. He climbed the stairs, and when he reached the top, he turned off the lights and closed the door. I was in darkness, with my only real sensory stimulation the feeling of that huge thing stuck up my cunt. I thought I would cum right then and wriggled and struggled against the tight ropes.

After a while, the pain began to get worse and I felt like the entire lower half of my body was cramping. My cervix was pressed in, my legs were cramping and my pussy was distended painfully. My back hurt from sitting on the stool, and in the dark, I had no idea how much time had passed. It might have been five minutes, or five hours. I knew I should not call out unless I was seriously hurt, that this was my master’s punishment and I was to take it. This was my gift to him, obedience in suffering. Asking for relief was simply out of the question.

My legs began to shake as I tried to lift myself up, but failed.

I noticed my moans were getting louder, as I involuntarily reacted to the stiff pain that was growing in my loins.

The lights suddenly came on and blinded me. My eyes squeezed shut and I heard Jason coming down the stairs. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked up at him with a pleading look in my eyes. He was eating a sandwich, and leaned against a table and observed me twitching for a while. When he finished the sandwich he asked “Would you like to change position?”

“Yes, please.” I knew he wasn’t going to let me up off the stool yet, but any change in position would help me cope.

He came over and untied my legs from the stool. Blood suddenly flowed back and I yelped a bit at the unexpected pain as I placed my feet on the floor. My wrists and arms were freed, but he pulled me forward and retied my wrists to my ankles. I gasped as he pulled the ropes taught, bent over at the waist but still sitting on the horror stool.

The new position, while providing relief for my leg and back muscles, shifted the hard wooden dildo inside of me until it pressed back against the wall of my vagina and wedged up to the side of my cervix. I began to wonder if it would press against my spine, which could become very, very painful.

“Well, now Siobhan. You are pleasing me this evening. But we need to teach you one more lesson. I think we need to make sure that cunt of yours is stretched nicely so we don’t get sore any more, don’t you?”

I raised my head up to look at him with difficulty, and said nothing. Tears were beginning to run down my cheeks.

“Rotate.” He said it simply, clearly.

I couldn’t believe it. But I knew what he wanted.

“Rotate. Now.” He was impatient.

I started to move around the stool, moving my feet slowly, turning on my impaled cunt, just a few inches at a time.

“Keep going. All the way around.”

I kept going. Sliding my legs to the left a bit at a time, my arms following for they were tied to my legs. Step by step I rotated on the stool.

For the first time since sitting on this chair I felt totally humiliated. I had become some sort of pain-filled circus act, with a long stake in my pussy, rotating for the amusement of my master. A trained dog. I hung my head as I continued the rotation.

When I finally completed the turn, Jason came over and lifted my head up, and kissed me. He untied me, and slowly lifted me off the dildo stool.

An hour later I was laying on my back in bed, legs spread wide, fucking the living daylights out of my husband and master.

I had to work the next day, but I couldn’t think about it at all. Right now I was just his fuck toy, and loved it.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

The Honeymoon is Over

I had worn clothes for a total of about 5 or 6 hours during the entire week. The rest of the time I had been naked, which meant I stayed in the hotel room or on the patio.

The patio was enclosed by a low wall, providing some privacy; but if someone came close up to it, they could see over. It happened a couple of times as I lay naked on the lounge chair, getting a nice tan with no lines. Some guys playing frisbee got a little close and got a nice full frontal look at me laying on the lounger. They were embarrassed, as was I, though there was nothing I could do about it.

The second time I was seen naked, the couple in the room next to ours spent some time on their patio. The guy kept looking over to make sure I was really nude, which I was. That time I would have gone back in to the room, but I was shackled to the patio table. Jason had gone out to get us some booze, and I was laying on the lounger with my legs spread the first time our neighbor glanced over. Trying to cover myself wasn't going to work, so I just smiled and spread a little wider, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Except for the one time when Jason really had to punish me for disrespect, I was pretty free to roam around the hotel room, enjoy the patio, or whatever. If I was tied up, it was only lightly, as I was when shackled to the table on the patio. It really was a wonderful honeymoon.

The best part of it all was being Jason's complete sex toy. We must have fucked an average of 4 times a day, in every position and using every hole. I was sore, and he must have been too, because at the end of the week he wasn't ravaging my body quite as much.

But now the honeymoon was over, in more ways than one.

It was time to go home. I packed us both, neatly folding and storing all our items in suitcases. I left one outfit out for myself, to wear on the way home. When I was done, Jason asked what the outfit was for.

"I thought I would wear that home; I have been naked for the whole week, but I need to wear clothes driving home."

"Think again, dear," said Jason. "You have done a nice job packing. Pack that last outfit and then lay on the bed, on your stomach. Wait for me there."

I did as I was instructed, and Jason left for a few minutes. When he returned, I was laying naked on the bed, on my stomach. I looked over as he entered the room and saw he had a metal bracket with him that looked a little like a spreader, but not quite. Disturbingly, he was not the only person who entered the room. With him was a bellman.

Laying on the bed, I obediently waited for them as they moved to either side of the bed.

"Lift her leg up, like this," Jason was speaking to the bellman. I felt hands roughly grab my ankles, and bend my legs so that my heels almost touched my ass. Moments later the metal bar was placed under them, and my ankles fit in to depressions made for them. Metal covered them and held them in place, spread just wide enough for my pussy to be clearly accessible.

"Now - her wrists," and my wrists were grabbed and pulled hard, lifting and arching my back slightly as they were drawn down to the same bar that held my ankles. My breath came out in a slight moan as my body was bend backward slightly. There was a squeaking noise as another hinged bar swung closed over my wrists and ankles, and a click as my wrists were locked in place next to my ankles.

I was not going anywhere, not bound like this. The pain in my back from the pulling was mild, but I would have to be careful. Over time it would get worse.

"So... your wife has maybe the best body I have ever seen," the bellman was undoubtedly gazing at my naked ass, back and pussy (not to mention my bound legs).

"She does, doesn't she? I am quite lucky, and I intend to enjoy it as much as possible."

"Um... I don't suppose... given she is restrained and all.... well, that maybe I could touch?" The bellman was losing control of his lust. The spreader bar was keeping my legs apart, and I didn't have to guess what part he wanted to touch.

"Sure, I guess it would be OK. Just no scratches or anything." At this surprising announcement I flushed, totally humiliated and in gasping awe that Jason would allow this stranger to fondle me! I was not a thing to be passed around! But this was a reminder that I was Jason's slave, destined to do his bidding. I was no longer my own, but his property.

I buried my face in the covers of the bed as strange rough hands slid over my ass, spreading the cheeks and then probing my ass gently, exploring my body. Tears were running down my cheeks as his hand slid between my legs, and over the soft folds of my pussy. Fingers spread my lips, exposing my inner vagina and clit. My muscles were going involuntarily from the shock of this touch, and I knew they could see my insides contracting.

His probing eventually settled on my clit, and I was surprised to feel that his fingers were wet and slippery. I was wet, with arousal! I couldn't believe it, and hid my face deeper in the covers as his stroking continued to get me off and my breathing got harder and quicker.

I could feel my hips moving slightly in rhythm with the bellman's stroking, and heard Jason say something to him; I don't know what because I was too busy hiding my face and thrusting my hips as he massaged my clit. Oh Jason, forgive me, but he was bringing me to orgasm, and I was panting, moaning and writhing in my bonds. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but let him do me, let him bring me to climax, and I reached the climaxed and moaned loudly, straight in to the covers in which I had buried my face.

He stopped, thank goodness. I don't think I could have stood it if he had continued. My clit was sensitive, I had just been masturbated by a stranger while my husband watched, and had a solid orgasm from it. I would have died if he had continued.

Instead, they lifted me up and put me on a cart.

The cart was rolled out of the room and then to a freight elevator where we descended to the garage. I was being carted down to the SUV like our luggage. When we got to the bottom level, I was rolled out to the car, and lifted in to the back. The metal spreader dug in to my wrists and ankles painfully and I cried out.

"Hush, Siobhan, hush..."

Jason took a ball gag on a leather head harness, and hushed me.

The drive home was long, especially long as I drooled all over my chin and neck, and my legs cramped horribly in the awkward position. My ribs pressed against the hard floor of the SUV, as did my breasts, and over time, it really began to hurt. I moaned in the back of the car, but made do by withdrawing inside myself, into my sub space.

When we finally got home, Jason unlocked my restraints. It took a moment for me to get my limbs to stretch out, they had been bent severely for a number of hours. I needed to pee badly, but I was instructed to bring in the luggage first. Carrying the suitcases across the drive completely naked, I hoped none of the neighbors would stop outside our driveway and look in. I made it inside, and begged for permission to pee.

Jason led me to the toilet, and I went to sit. Before I could, Jason stopped me and instructed me instead to stand over a bucket in the corner of the room. There, I was to spread my labia lips with my fingers, and let him observe my urination in to the bucket.

For some reason I was more distraught by this than by almost any other indignity that I had undergone so far. I begged him for some privacy. I would not be able to let the stream loose if I was observed closely and was spreading my pussy lips for him. I tried, but it didn't work, and yet my bladder was about to burst.

At last Jason took me by the hand, leading me to a room in the back that had been transformed in to a sterile tiled operating theater. Once there, he informed me that if I was going to lie about needing to pee, that he would have to control the process. He would be taking away my privilege of peeing until he felt I had learned a lesson. In the back room was a flat table, and I was instructed to lie on it, on my back.

The table had stirrups on it, and my legs rested in them. One strap over each thigh, and one strap over my waist and I was immobile as he did what he pleased to my body. Jason took a long rubber tube, place a small bit of lube on then end and probed my pussy lips apart until he found what he wanted.

The tube went to my urethra, and slid in. I was being cathetered. The sensation was one fo the most awesome I had ever felt, the sensation of something entering a part of my body never before violated, sliding up inside and probing deeply. It was also mildly uncomfortable, and I made a few mewling noises as it went in.

"There, there, Siobhan. You will come to thank me for this later. Trust me."

I had no idea what he meant and for some reason, I shuddered a little with anxiety over what else he had in store for me.

When the tube reached my bladder, a sudden rush of urine flowed out. Quickly, Jason took a small clamp and placed it on the tube, cutting off the stream.

"Now dear. You are not allowed to urinate without first requesting permission. This little arrangement will help you. Let's go upstairs and unpack, OK?" Jason was positively chipper as I felt the pain in my bladder growing.

"Jason, can I please finish urinating?"

"I gave you that chance. No, you may not. Perhaps later. Let's unpack now."

Oh my god, I thought as I swung my legs off the table and stood. A length of tube about 6 inches long extended between my legs, and the clamp kept me from urinating though the tube up my urethra felt like I was constantly peeing. It was the strangest sensation to constantly feel as if I was peeing but never getting relief.

We climbed the stairs to our room and I began unpacking.

It hurt. My bladder was hurting. I knew if it lasted much longer something might go wrong with my body. An infection maybe? But it wasn't supposed to hurt like this, and the urge to go was becoming overwhelming.

I knew if I asked again I might be punished. But I couldn't help it. I needed to go so badly, I had to ask again.

As soon as we finished unpacking, I asked. "Jason, can I please, please urinate now? It really hurts, and I am not sure if this is good for me."

"Yes... you might be right. Well, OK. Let's go downstairs. We can try again. But you know that I am giving this to you, you must give me something in return, later," Jason smiled warmly and just a little cruelly.

I didn't care. I walked as quickly as I could to the bathroom, positioned myself squatting over the bucket, and when Jason released the clamp my urine streamed down and sprayed forcefully against the metal.

The sensation of relief was overwhelming. When I was done, I breathed a huge sigh, lifting my face to look at the ceiling as Jason replaced the clamp on my tube.

Whatever came later, it was worth it.