Experiences of a Slave Bride

More Self Discovery

2011-11-22T21:41:00.000-08:00

My first experience trying to tie myself up was unsatisfactory in that I never really achieved a complete helplessness. At the time, I didn't think it could be achieved, but felt that I wanted it. I began daydreaming about being tied up in ways that I could not escape from.

I did a little research, and played with knots when I could. My parents and brother were usually home and I couldn't really do much with them around, but I actually learned some things in the privacy of my own room. Then one day, my parents and brother went out and were not scheduled to return until dinner time. I had a solid four hours to play alone, and I prepared for it.

The parents left, telling me not to get into trouble. I was 14, a freshman in high school, and was still a virgin but just barely. I had been dating a couple of guys informally and sneaked out to see one of them when I could. I could easily have gotten one of them over to get into trouble, but at this point I wanted to see what I could do alone.

This time, I stripped first. The experience before was exciting and turned me on, a lot. I wanted to experience that again. The sensation of being naked increased my sense of daring, as well as making me feel vulnerable and excited. I was wet between my legs before I removed my panties. Touching myself with my hand, I rubbed my clit for a while, just feeling the sensation of being completely naked in the house, and the sensual turn on of anticipating being tied up.

I began with my ankles. It was an easy decision. This time though, I crossed my ankles before tying, and used the rope to crisscross the ankles. This spread my legs while still tying me securely. I tested the tie a bit, making sure it was secure, and then played with myself for a while, masturbating and taking the wetness on my fingers to my nipples.

Next, I took some panties from my laundry. They weren't "dirty", but they weren't fresh either. I put them in my mouth, pushing the cloth deep inside the cavity of my left cheek, then inside the center over my tongue, and then pushing into my right cheek. It wasn't nearly enough. I could feel that the gag wasn't complete, so I got up to find some more cloth.

And fell over, because my ankles were tied. DUH. Rather than untie and retie my ankles, I dragged myself over to my laundry and sorted through for something suitable. All I found was a pair of gym socks. I considered briefly whether I wanted them stuffed inside my mouth and decided it would have to do. Restuffing my panties in, I followed them with the socks. When I was done, my cheeks were bulging and my tongue was pushed down and back, my mouth was so full. I dragged myself back to my desk where I had some wide silver tape I had gotten from my dad's tool box.

The cloth kept coming out. I stuffed it back in and then started wrapping the tape around my wide open but full mouth. My hair was tied back in a pony so it wasn't too hard to get the tape all around my head and around my mouth several times. After about 10 wraps around, I decided it was secure and stopped for a bit to consider my next move.

That gag was strong and effective. I couldn't make much noise. I sat on the floor with my knees spread and masturbated some more. The feeling of helplessness I wanted was coming on and exciting me as I moved my fingers inside myself, pushing and sliding over my clit. My nipples were hard. I pinched them, and felt a surge of pleasure and excitement. I pinched them harder, feeling a little pain that simply excited me more. It was then I had another idea.

Mouth gagged securely and ankles tied I dragged myself into the bathroom next to my own room. There I found a basket that contained what I wanted - clothespins. I grabbed a handful and dragged myself back to my room. I was getting rug burn and realized I wasn't as prepared as I thought I was. Time to get a move on.

One clothespin in hand, I pulled and massaged one erect nipple to its fullest and then placed the clamp on it. As the spring pressed down and closed on the sensitive flesh, I emitted a muffled yelp! It hurt a lot more than I thought it would. I quickly removed the pin, and yelped again as it came off. Wow, that was intense. But I wanted it, desperately. Weirder and weirder I thought, but I was so hot and aroused by now I could take the pain. I put the clamp back on my left nipple, cringing at the pain and waiting a moment before massaging my right breast, pulling the nipple out and clamping it as well.

Fuck, it hurt. But strangely as I sat there and felt the pain, it seemed to diminish. It ached, but I could take it.

I took a rope down from the top of my desk. It had been pretied in a way I had learned by doing a little research. It was a way of tying my wrists by using a knot that was already tied in a loop, then just pulling the loop tight. I had already thought through how to pull on the loop to tighten around my wrists. The other end of the rope would go around my ankles, of course! They would naturally pull and tighten the loop, right?

One end of the rope went around my ankles. It was looped, not tied. I pulled on it to make sure it was secure around my ankles and then moved away to a pre-tied rope that was on the floor next to me. This was the special treat of which I was so proud; I had played with it before to get it right.

It was a sort of figure 8 tie, that had two loops on each end with the rope wrapped in the middle. The loops would cinch tighter if pulled (though not a lot, I hadn't gotten that part perfected yet). Reaching my arms behind my back I slid each loop of the figure 8 over one of my hands. By pushing and rolling the ropes higher, I managed to get them up to my elbows before my arms couldnt stand it any more and I relaxed, spreading my elbows apart and cinching the rope tight around my arms. My elbows were now about a foot or so apart behind my back.

I lay there for a moment. My hands were still free but the tie around my elbows had restricted me, a lot. My breathing was fast and shallow, partly from the effort I had put into getting the elbow ropes on, and partly because I was so aroused. I wanted to cum but reaching my clit was no longer possible. It was time for the last step.

I lay on my side and bent my knees as much as I could. The rope that went around my ankles and ended in the wrist loops was too short; I needed to get my feet further up. I wriggled to where I could press my knees against the desk for support and then curved and bent my back so that I could reach my hands all the way to my feet. I grabbed the loops (there was one for each wrist with a wrapping in between) and managed to get my wrists into them.

It had been a huge struggle to get myself tied and I finally relaxed. As I relaxed, my legs moved away from my wrists a few inches and pulled the cinch tie tight. Whamo! I felt it immediately. The rope encircled my wrists, my body naturally pulling my legs away and keeping the cinch tight. Wow, it felt good. I was helpless.

I lay on my side, panting a bit. I had successfully and unwittingly placed myself into a rather tight, constricting hogtie. It felt marvelous. I wriggled, and all it did was make the ropes tighter. I rolled onto my stomach, and felt my legs sag down and pull my arms back and shoulders up. I was in an inverted curve and either my shoulders would be pulled back or my legs would have to be pushed up.

The clothespins on my nipples continued to hurt, but not nearly as badly as when I had first put them on. The flesh ached, and I realized for the first time that my self tie prevented me from stopping the pain. My wrists and hands were aching from the tight ropes which constricted blood flow. I forced myself back to relieve some of the tightness, and got no relief.

I rolled over again, considering my predicament. I was stark naked on the floor of my room. My breasts jutted out in front of me, with clothespins on the nipples. My wrists were effectively tied to my ankles, which were in turn tied in a way that forced my knees apart, exposing my pussy. I had done better than I had ever imagined. I writhed for a little while, struggling.

My ties were complete. I was secure, and it was going to be damn hard to get out of. The elbow ropes were the surprise to me; the effectively stopped me from moving my wrists around to reach the knots. I hadn't bargained on this and I began to wonder how I was going to get out of this.

OK. Yeah. I was 14, and naive. Really naive. I may have prepared for this play session and set things up for a secure self bondage session but I hadn't thought far enough ahead to make sure I could get out of it. Panic rippled across my body and I started struggling and writhing. I saw the clock. Two hours had passed, my parents would be home in two hours and find me here! Excuses ran through my head, explanations. A rogue rapist had broken into the house and tied me up. That was it, I could explain it that way. Except the house was locked from the inside and there was no break in. What was I going to do?

The ropes were tight, and I wriggled my hands to try and get free. My jaw was hurting from how far wide it was being held open; I bit down on the panties and socks, that helped a bit. My nipples were burning with a deep pain that was turning into numbness. My legs were cramping, and when they cramped I automatically tried to move them out straight, which pulled on the wrist cinch until my hands hurt, badly. I started to cry. I tried to yell. Nope... the gag was a good one. It muffled the sound.

Finally, I stopped. It was time to get real and think. There was only one way out that I could think of, it was a long shot but I had to try. I had to get a knife from the kitchen and cut myself loose.

If you have ever been in a hogtie, you will know that it isn't easy to travel in it. Small movements can be made with a lot of effort. The most effective way to move is to roll to one side, scoot legs forward then roll to the other side, and so on. When I got into the hall, I tried rolling all the way over onto my back. It was humiliating, as my body arched up, pushing my hips into the air with my legs spread wide as if I were welcoming some guy to fuck me.

It was incredibly slow going, and every move made the ropes tighter. About a half hour later and most of the way down the hall my right nipple clamp rubbed off and I screamed in pain. I had no idea that taking the clamps off would be more painful than putting them on; I lay there on the hall carpet and sobbed into my gag for a bit and then pressed my other breast down and wriggled until that clamp came off as well. I screamed again and then began wriggling down the hall toward the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I was faced with a difficulty. The knives were sitting in a knife block on the counter. The counter was about 3 feet higher than I was. I lay looking at the knives and cried, tears running down my face and over the tape of my self imposed gag.

There was a footstool in the corner. That was the only option. Slowly, painfully, I wriggled over to it. When I reached it I pushed it with my head, two or three inches at a time. It finally made it over to the counter.

My whole body ached and cramped. It hurt horribly. My left leg had a charlie horse, and my shoulders ached as well. My jaw ached from the gag. I writhed, feeling the wetness between my legs which indicated I was still aroused beyond belief.

Right then, at that moment, I decided I needed a boyfriend to help me. I wasn't going to tie myself up again. I needed a guy to be there, to control me. It made sense. I wanted to feel helpless and I was amazed at how horny I was tied up like this, but I also knew I needed to be submitting to someone else, not just tying myself up. Strangely, this thought motivated me and I started the task of getting my body up onto the first step of the stepstool.

My breasts rested on the first step, flattened out on display. The metal edge of the step scraped against my ribs as I wriggled a few inches higher, leaning against the step. Inch by inch I pushed my body higher, leaning against the steps.

Thank god there was a plate at the top, next to the block of knives. I pushed it with my head and the knives slid. I pushed and maneuvered until finally the knives fell from the counter to the floor with a loud clatter. I literally threw myself down off the step stool and landed on the floor next to the knives. I got one in my hand (which was numb) and started sawing.

The clock on the wall said I had 10 minutes. I sawed faster. It wasn't working. I was getting the barest bit of rope to separate. At this rate it was going to take an hour. I fumbled around, feeling the knives, finally finding one with a serrated edge. That one worked better. The rope began to fray and stretch. I sawed harder, unable to be very effective because of limited movement. Suddenly, my legs straightened out. The rope from my ankles to my wrists had given way and I was no longer bent back. I let out a muffled whoop and then cry as the cramps rolled through my naked body once again.

Once the rope around my wrists was cut away from my ankles, I was able to work them free. I was then able to roll and move the elbow restraints and finally undo my ankles. When the gag came off it hurt like the dickens, the tape taking some of the hair behind my neck with it. The panties and socks came out, and I was free.

The parents were 10 minutes late. I gathered the remnants of rope, tape and gag together and limped to my room. I hid the remains of my bondage, lay down on the bed, spread my legs wide and started masturbating furiously. I came in less than a minute, after which I lay panting and recovered from my experience.

When my parents came home a few minutes later I was showering. I was bruised, had some minor scrapes, but was none the worse for the bondage.

I knew what I wanted then. And I also knew I needed someone else to play with in order to get it.

Self Discovery

2011-10-06T17:10:00.000-07:00

I have been asked numerous times how I became involved in bondage, pain, and eventually into a submissive relationship that is entirely and completely fulfilling. So, here are some of my memories and recollections. Ultimately, there is no reason why. There is no triggering event, no special perversion caused by an abusive parent. There was simply a growing and passionate desire for certain things.

My earliest memory of bondage was when I was still pretty young; before I started dating any boys. I was a virgin, and while kissing behind the gym was an interesting new activity I was far from being sexually active. Yes, I had matured well, had breasts and an overall womanly shape with long dark hair, and was even considered a bit of a slut by kids in school (they were jealous, mostly). Let me also be clear. At this point in my life I didn't even know that bondage and SM existed as a fetish. I had seen no pictures, read no stories, never talked of it, and was unaware that it was a sensual activity engaged in by anyone.

My family lived in a decent lower middle class house with a two car garage. We only had one car, so the other half of the garage was dedicated to a lot of the usual junk. It was there that one day I found some rope. A long, soft length of rope. I had entered using the back door from the back yard, and the main front door that tipped up for cars was down, and it was dark and quiet. A single light bulb from the back lit the unfinished interior.

I remember sitting on the floor in my jeans and playing with knots. In order to get a good position for the rope I wrapped it around my ankles and then practiced tying various knots. Wriggling to get out, I found it rather easy to loosen the knot or stretch the rope and get free. So, I wrapped the rope tighter around my ankles a few more times, providing a sturdier based and tried a different knot technique (I was completely naive to knots and was making things up as I went along).

There came a point when I had the rope around my ankles and knees, with a tie at the ankles and was working on the knot at the knees when the most horrible of noises came -- the front garage door had its bolt slid out and moments later the springs creaked as it slowly lifted up. I was sitting on the floor half tied and desperately trying to undo the knots as the door rose and my older brother walked in. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and the rope was rapidly removed.

"Whatcha doin?" My brother looked at me with idle interest. He didn't really care what his younger sister was doing that much.

"Uh, I was just bored. Wanted to see if I could tie some knots. What are you doing here, perv?" And that was that. I forget what happened after that, but whatever it was, was unremarkable and passed quickly.

What stayed with me was the feeling I had while my legs had been tied up like that. There was this desire to see if I could really tie myself up and truly restrict myself. The desire wasn't pure, either, it was something dark that I knew wasn't going to be accepted or condoned and was humiliated when it was discovered. I knew that the sensation I had as I felt my legs bound and restricted was exciting to me in a very new way. What was more strange was how excited I felt being discovered; the humiliation that I had experienced when my brother walked in was like a huge adrenalin rush and stuck with me.

I didn't realize it at the time, but it was a sexual rush.

Being discovered playing with the rope was a huge rush and made the whole experience exciting. I wasn't stupid though, and I knew that if I was to try to do this again and was discovered again, it might result in interference. Like, my parents being told, and maybe being sent to a councilor or punished or yelled at. So, I was more careful the next time. This meant waiting until there was no one to interrupt me, which took a while. It eventually came when my parents were visiting my grandparents for the afternoon, and my brother had gone off to be in some music thing he had. I was alone for several hours.

It never struck me as strange at the time, and maybe doesn't even strike me as strange now given my life style, but I had been waiting weeks for the opportunity to try self bondage again. During these weeks I had thought of various reasons why I had found the tie easy to get out of, and how to improve it. I also imagined how it could be extended. The idea of both my legs and arms being restrained appealed to me, excited me, and was part of my agenda that afternoon.

I locked the doors to the garage this time; it would be easier to explain why I was in there with doors locked than why I was trussed up like a chicken, should someone come home early. Sitting on the floor with the rope, I began.

Looping the rope and then wrapping it around my ankles and then threading back through the rope a couple of times created a very tight tie with 8 loops of rope around my ankles. I wriggled, found it getting loose and tightened it until it hurt a bit. The pain felt satisfying, because I knew the rope was tight enough it wouldn't come off. I didn't realize it but the pain also gave me a shot of adrenalin and enhanced the experience; pain was accepted then and continued to be accepted as part of the bondage experience for me ever since.

Stretching the two strands of rope up and then around my knees I performed the same looping, threading and tightening. I tied it off and sat there for a bit, concentrating on the helpless feeling in my legs. It was satisfying. It felt good, in the oddest way I couldn't explain.

It wasn't enough though. I needed more. My legs were immobile (I rolled around on the floor a bit to see just how immobile), but the rest of my body was free and I could feel how that diminished the entire experience. Something was wrong. I needed to tie my wrists.

Sitting on the floor, my legs bent at the knees so I sat slightly crooked, I tied my wrists in front of me. That was tough. Really, tough. You need at least one free hand to tie a knot. I managed to wrap rope around my wrists and pull it tight, but a knot was impossible. I simply wrapped the rope around about 10 times and threaded it through as much as I could, and decided that was enough.

Sitting with my legs tied was uncomfortable so I lay down. My hands tied helped, and the experience was getting closer to what I knew I desired deep down-- being bound and helpless. Still, it wasn't there. I sat up and attempted to retie my hands behind my back. This was better-- the feeling of helplessness was stronger, and I was getting aroused. This was the first time I realized that being bound and helpless was sexually arousing to me; it didn't seem odd because I was still discovering my sexuality and everything seemed new and exciting.

I lay down on the floor for a while, feeling the experience of being pseudo-restrained. My legs were secure, but my wrists were an illusion. I could live with that for a while, but the experience wasn't complete.

All in all, I spent about 2 hours in the garage, trying to get the ropes tighter, the knots more secure, actually trying to get a good knot in my wrists so I couldn't just wriggle out. The whole experience was incredibly exciting, arousing, and tantalizing to me.

While I was tied, I actually spent some time getting the handle of a broom between my legs (I was still wearing jeans) and getting it to rub. Once I got it between my legs and extending through and pressing against my crotch, my hands (tied behind) grabbed it and managed to move it back and forth a little. The whole experiment was turning more and more into a sexual exploration.

Realizing I didn't know how much time had passed and I needed to stop, I wriggled free of the rope around my wrists, and undid the rope around my legs. The clock inside the house indicated I probably had an hour to spare but it was a good, safe time to stop. One thing was crystal clear from this experience: I was excited by being restrained, and wanted to try it again. A lot. It was also clear that it was a sexual thing and that I would spend more thought into how I could incorporate this into my next play session.

And it was absolutely for certain that I would play again.

House Party

2011-08-12T22:04:00.000-07:00

Life was difficult for me after returning from the pony farm. The intense training there had left its mark and I discovered a number of things.

First of all, I had been naked for more than two weeks. Wearing clothes felt raspy and unnatural for a while. I sat in my office and in meetings adjusting my tight clothing, feeling confined and uncomfortable. I could tell that other workers noticed me and wondered but it was not to be helped. Some of the guys appeared to look at me with new interest as I wriggled in my clothing.

My body had become thinner, harder, and more muscular during the hard work as a pony girl. I liked that, and enjoyed the way people looked at me, especially Jason, who appreciated me and insisted that I be naked virtually all the time at home.

I quickly picked up the habit of urinating and defecating in a toilet again; the use of my straw covered stall for these activities faded. I never quite looked at a toilet the same, though, and had to fight urges to just let go and pee in the middle of meetings for a few weeks.

Lastly, I found it easier to be obedient to Jason. The lessons and training I had as a pony girl stuck with me, and the absolute obedience came more naturally. I knelt before him in the submissive posture without even a tiny bit of hesitation, and worked hard to assure that his every command was followed.

Of all the things I missed from the pony farm, I missed Kerry. My relationship with her had gone deep to my heart, though I had spoken only a few words with her. I felt like we were meant to be together. She was my match, and I wanted to be with her again as a partner in work and in sex. Prior to being a pony and working with her I had never really understand what a lesbian relationship was about, and now I realized that a solid emotional and physical connection bound the two of us.

Two weeks after returning, Jason called me over and had me kneel in front of him as he sat on the couch. I was naked, as I was virtually all the time while inside the house, and a leash was attached to my permanent slave collar.

"My dearest Siobhan, we have been invited to Steve and Diane's across the street for a house party tomorrow evening. It promises to be quite enjoyable."

I raised my head and looked at Jason, "Yes, I like Steve and Diane very much. I would like to visit. Should I prepare something to take?"

"I think a bottle of wine should be all. Diane will prepare the dinner; she and Steve have been experimenting with the alternative life style and she is ready to begin a role as a more constant submissive. I think they have switched a bit, but it is working out better this way. In any case, it should be interesting. Steve and I may have some fun with you and Diane."

A small chill of anticipation tainted by a bit of dread ran through my stomach. "Jason, you will watch out for me, won't you? I mean, I trust you, but we haven't played with them before and I am not sure... I am a little cautious."

"Siobhan, as always, I love and protect you. However, remember your place," Jason took on a stern tone. "I own you. You are my property and I expect you to obey absolutely. How I treat you and what I allow is up to me and is not to be questioned by you."

"Of course, Jason. I am sorry for my hesitation." I lowered my eyes and bowed my head. Jason caressed my breasts for a moment and then gently pulled my left nipple out, stretching and elongating it; he then placed a clamp on the distended flesh and I gasped slightly from the initial pain. He repeated the action with my right nipple, and I knelt motionless on the floor before him as the pain slowly subsided into an ache.

He lifted my face up and leaned down to kiss me. His kisses always gave me delight and made me feel wonderful. More and more recently, he had only shown affection or had intimate relations with me when I was bound or in some sort of discomfort or pain; as a result I had found myself desiring pain more and more. I wanted his approval and attention desperately, and if pain was required for him to show it then I desired the pain.

----

The evening of the house party as Steve and Diane's arrived, and I prepared myself. I wore a sheer black dress that came to mid-thigh, a bra and panties. My shoes were leather flats, nice but not too fancy. I felt good about myself and the way I looked. The dress showed off my body. Jason would be proud to be seen with me and that pleased me immensely.

We walked across the street together and Jason knocked on our neighbor's door. Diane answered the door and I was immediately taken aback with surprise. She was wearing nothing but a leather harness which wrapped around her breasts, hips and between her legs. Diane has a very curvy figure, and the leather straps brought out her innate sensuality. I stared for a bit. I had never seen her naked before, in spite of the fact that I had pleasured her between her legs with my tongue (she had simply hiked her skirt up for that event).

Diane was blushing and kept her eyes down to the ground as she admitted Jason and I. Steve came over and greeted Jason. Diane closed the door and stood staring at the ground, obviously uncomfortable. She was holding her hands and arms in those awkward positions when you want to cover yourself but realize it is impossible, that complete nudity can't be covered with two hands. I felt a pang of sympathy for her and wriggled close, taking and squeezing her hand. "You look lovely, you don't need to feel embarrassed in front of me," I whispered to her. She looked up at me gratefully.

"Siobhan, why don't you go help Diane in the kitchen?" Jason suggested in a voice which wasn't really a suggestion. I nodded and the two of us headed off to the kitchen to finish preparing and serving dinner.

"Oh, Siobhan, I am so glad to see you. You have made me feel better. This is so new to me, being subservient to Steve!" Diane immediately started talking as we reached the kitchen and began placing food into serving dishes.

"Diane, it's quite all right. If you had seen me a week ago, you would not be embarrassed at all. A week ago I was wearing a leather halter, a bit in my mouth, tail coming out of my ass, peeing on the ground, and pulling wagons of chopped wood."

"Oh, you must tell me all about it! Did you really do all that?" Diane turned to face me, looking at me with wonder. I proceeded to tell her all the details of my time as a real, working pony girl. By the time we were done serving dinner to the table, Diane had lost much of her shyness, though when the men came to the table and we all sat down, she once again cast her eyes down and stopped talking.

Steve is an extremely mild mannered man of about 40, tall, thin and dark. Diane is a smiling, happy woman of about 32, only a few years older than I. I have always felt some attraction to both of them, Steve being a little older but still very handsome and fit. Diane has large breasts and long hair, an hourglass figure and strong legs. Seeing her naked as we ate, I had trouble paying attention to Jason, as my eyes kept wandering over to view Diane's amazing body.

When dinner was over, Jason turned to me and said casually, "My dear, I don't think it is fair for Diane to be naked this whole time while we are all clothed. Why don't you undress for us?"

After nearly three weeks at the human pony farm, being naked wasn't troublesome for me. I pulled my dress off, then removed my bra and panties. In moments I stood before Jason, completely naked except for my wedding ring, ear studs, and slave collar. Steve whistled in appreciation, making me blush with pleasure. I was proud to be Jason's and for others to appreciate what he owned.

Steve came over and began to examine my body in some detail. After asking permission from Jason, he touched my flesh, sliding along my ass, spreading my ass cheeks to examine between and below them. At his direction I bent over and spread my legs, and Steve examined my pussy (which was moist from the attention). It felt awkward being examined like this by my neighbor, but Jason had ordered it and I obeyed.

When Steve was done, Jason made a suggestion. "Siobhan, I couldn't help but notice that you have been somewhat smitten by our beautiful Diane. You could hardly take your eyes off her during dinner! I think I would like to see you kiss her."

My eyes must have grown at the suggestion as both men laughed at my reaction. I turned and looked at Diane, who had her eyes cast down once again in a posture of submissive shyness. I stepped over to her and lifted her face to mine (I am slightly taller), and gently kissed her lips, slowly and gently but becoming more urgent and passionate. I was trying to let her know it was OK and that she and I were in this together and could actually enjoy it if she was willing. Our naked breasts touched, my nipples immediately became hard and I could feel her sigh, slightly.

"Diane! Show Siobhan the gift I gave you today!" Steve seemed rather excited. Diane blushed deep and left the room for a moment. I stood naked, as both men sat and observed me, sipping drinks and talking about some of the marks left on my skin from my experiences as a pony girl. When Diane returned, she had a fairly large dildo in her hand; it was the kind that was made to look, and more specifically to feel, real.

"Show Siobhan how it is used, Diane." Steve calmly ordered. Diane turned bright red and stuttered out a slight protest, "Steve... I am not sure I can do that, now, here--"

Steve interrupted her, "Diane. Don't embarrass me and yourself with disobedience in front of our neighbors. There. On the chair. Now."

Diane moved slowly to a large chair. She sat down and leaned back, spreading her legs wide and over the arms of the chair, exposing herself to all of us. She was shaved nicely, and a slight glistening around her pussy lips showed that she had become aroused. She closed her eyes as if to block out her surroundings and took the large phallus and began working it between the soft lips between her thighs. She slid the dildo up and down at first, slowly relaxing and working between and then into her pussy. The deeper it went, the more obviously wet she became, and it wasn't long before she was sliding it rhythmically in and out, a slight movement of her hips accompanying the thrusts inside.

We watched her, the two men sitting on the couch and I standing in the middle of the living room. She continued, showing her masturbation technique as she became more and more aroused. Her breathing became faster, nipples hardened and all at once she arched her back and neck, a soft mewling noise coming from her wide open mouth. She thrust the dildo in a few more times, and finally slowed and removed the phallus. Her eyes opened and she seemed to realize where she was and suddenly flushed bright red and hung her head.

"Very good, Steve, your wife seems to be doing well!" Jason exclaimed at the show Diane had just completed. I was standing obediently to the side, watching and appreciating the show. Diane looked at me quickly from the corner of her eyes as if my presence embarrassed her most of all. Then men continued to discuss some of the details of Diane's activity.

"Steve, I think it is unfair to have Diane pleasure herself without also giving Siobhan the opportunity." Jason suggested. "I think we need to have her give us the same show, don't you think?"

"Yes, Jason, but if you might let me suggest something; we have a little additional paraphernalia that might be of interest. Diane, will you go get the belt?" Steve's quiet voice instructed Diane, who opened her mouth as if to protest for a moment and then shut it, bowed her head and then left the room.

"Siobhan, will you stand before us please?" Steve instructed. As Jason did not contradict him, I moved to the center of the room, facing them. I had long since learned to stand naked and on display before men without trying to hide any part of my body.

Diane returned almost immediate and when I saw what she had in her hands, I realized what was in store. The dildo had been placed in a strap on harness. The harness was rather ineptly strapped around Diane's waist and the phallus extended out from her groin, drooping a little.

"Oh, how delightful Steve! This is perfect, I must say! Yes, yes... Siobhan, get on all fours before us, and spread your legs!" Jason was excited and quickly ordered me to prepare to be fucked.

"Sir, may I suggest adjusting her strap on? I think it will help some." I moved to Diane, who had obviously never worn a device like this, and proceeded to adjust the straps around her hips and thighs. They needed to be placed higher, and made tighter so that Diane's hip movement would be translated into confident dildo thrusts. Unlike Diane, I did have some experience with the device.

When I was done, I obeyed my husband and knelt before the men, then lowered myself so that I was on hands and knees, my legs spread slightly so that my pussy was well exposed. Diane knelt behind me and cautiously, ever so cautiously placed the tip of the dildo against my lips. I could tell she was afraid of hurting me, and was being very careful. I urged her on by slowly pressing back against the rubber dong, adding pressure which enabled it to penetrate me deeply. I grunted slightly and Diane immediately withdrew most of the way.

The men sat on the sofa, observing all of this with great delight. My breasts hung down and while they aren't nearly as large as Diane's, they still wobbled a bit as Diane began regular thrusts. The dildo was a good one, made with natural feeling material with a roughness that made it nicely stimulating. I moved my body together with Diane's thrusts, enjoying the experience. I even enjoyed being observed by the two men, showing off my body in this activity.

My breathing was come quicker, and I had closed my eyes for a moment when I felt something against my face and lips. I opened my eyes and saw that Jason had slipped his pants down around his ankles and exposed his rock hard cock. He was pressing it toward my mouth. I opened wide and it slipped inside just as Diane thrust in, pushing me forward. His member slid deep within my mouth and down my throat a bit before I was prepared and I gagged. Jason pushed deeper, placing one hand behind my head to press it forward against him. His cock sank deeper, until it was well down my throat past my uvula. I continued to gag, my eyes watering and stomach contracting as if I would vomit at any moment.

Fortunately, Jason withdrew most of the way before I actually choked and puked; Diane continued thrusting from behind and Jason started thrusting in the same rhythm. The back and forth movement between the two phallus's gave me the most kinky, decadent feeling of being filled completely and I felt arousal climbing quickly. I forgot where I was and began to feel only what was happening to me.

During this time, I periodically struggled to keep from gagging and puking. Jason's thrusts were deep, and at time he lingered inside my throat, triggering my gag reflex. He always withdrew in time, but not before I was gasping for air. Diane had leaned over my backside, her breasts brushing my lower back as she got the feel of the strap on motion and thrusts. Her arms were around my hips, hands and fingers reaching around and probing, stimulating my clit directly. The whole experience was mind blowing as I struggled to maintain and let the pleasure take me over the top.

After a a few minutes of this thrusting and gagging, pleasure and gasping, I felt Jason's cock grown especially hard and his hips thrust forward and strained against my face. Both his hands pressed the back of my head hard, and my tongue felt sudden paroxysms in his cock as he spurt semen deep down inside my throat. Swallowing it wasn't an option; he was so far down the viscous liquid was dumped into my throat and went down.

The feeling of Jason coming in my throat tipped me over the edge and with some frantic finger massaging from Diane behind me, I climaxed loudly. I could feel my whole body flush, nipples hardened, as I came just as Jason withdrew from my mouth. My arms gave way beneath me and my head and shoulders collapsed on the floor as I grunted and gasped from my orgasm.

Thankfully, Diane withdrew when my climax began to fade. I let my hips slide down to the floor and I lay exhausted, flat on the carpet, panting. It was an amazing experience, made more amazing because I had been penetrated by Diane, a woman that I had wanted sexually for some time now, at the same time as my husband and master.

When I recovered, I saw that both men had removed their pants. I think Steve had been so aroused by my double penetration that he had removed his in order to stroke his cock; Jason of course had removed his when he came to fuck my mouth. Steve's cock was standing up hard and erect.

The men were working on Diane, tying her up. Jason was showing Steve how to double and quadruple a rope tie around the ankles to make it as secure as possible without cutting skin or cutting off circulation. I rose to a kneeling position and observed as they secured Diane's ankles. She was obediently laying on the carpet on her stomach. Once her ankles were tied, they pulled her arms behind her back and secured them together with several loops of rope. This rope was then pulled up and over her shoulders, forcing her arms and hands up to a higher position on her back and away from her nicely rounded ass.

Jason was instructing Steve on basic rope technique while placing Diane in a hog tie. The only part left was to bend the legs and secure the ankles to Diane's head, which was done with a double length of rope through her ankle ties, followed by loops around her neck. I was proud of Jason as he illustrated how to tie the rope around Diane's neck securely, but without posing an immediate threat of choking. I had been in this position many times with him, and as long as you didn't pull too hard and try to unbend, it was bearable and there was no problem breathing.

Steve pulled the whole rigging tight, and Diane grunted some as her back bent. This was new to her, I could tell. She had never been in a hogtie of any kind, and I knew the semi-panic she was probably feeling. Her head was raised up off the floor to relieve pressure on her neck, and she stayed very still to prevent any further pain.

The men admired their handiwork for a few minutes as Diane simply stayed in position, unable to move without causing discomfort. I could tell she was humiliated but also aroused by her new situation. I wanted badly to go over and kiss her, stroke her hair, make her feel OK; this would not be acceptable and I did not in order to keep Jason from punishing me later.

Finally, Steve knelt before Diane, and with one smooth motion, inserted his cock into her mouth. She sucked him in obediently, and Jason and I watched as he mouth fucked his wife before us as Jason has just done with me. Diane was clearly in a combination of pain, obedience, acceptance, and excitement as she brought Steve to an orgasm remarkably quickly. He came on her face, spurting white, sticky fluid over her forehead, eyes and cheeks.

When it was over Steve sighed and remarked just how much he had enjoyed the evening. The two men rose, dressed themselves and went in the other room to fix drinks. Diane remained in her hogtie with semen drying on her face, and I remained kneeling where I was.

Diane suffered for about a half an hour. Hogties can start out uncomfortable, and with time they can become agonizing. Diane had started whimpering, and tried whispering to me.

"How long will he leave me like this? It hurts!"

"I don't know, Diane, but it isn't our role to question. Don't worry, you are getting used to this and will be fine. The more you endure the prouder you will be. Trust me." I tried to encourage her in whispers as we waited.

The men finally returned. Diane's hogtie was undone though her wrists and ankles remained bound. The relief in her face was obvious. Steve bent down and kissed her face (now crusty with his dried sperm) and told him he was proud of her progress tonight. He was so kind about it, and I saw how she suddenly acquired a proud look. She smiled and relaxed, laying on the floor happily.

"Siobhan, it is time to go. Put on your dress." Jason was a little drunk, which made him a little more blunt in his commands to me. I quickly put on my dress, leaving off my panties and bra. "That's my little slave. Let's head home."

Steve and Jason shook hands at the door, and I saw Diane still tied on the floor well behind him, as we left. We walked across the street to our own housed. When inside, I immediately removed my clothes as was Jason's rule.

"So, Siobhan. What do you think of our sweet Diane? Will she turn out to be as good a slave slut as you?" Jason was drunk.

I lowered my head and said, "Thank you sir, for recognizing my talent as your slave. I hope Diane will make Steve proud."

"Always the tactful one, eh, Siobhan? Go upstairs, spread out on the bed and wait for me there."

I did as instructed, ready to serve my husband and master in any way he wished.

Erotic Pain

2011-05-19T20:15:00.000-07:00

I am not an expert. I don't really understand why some people (including myself) find bondage and related pain to be an erotic, stimulating and desirable sensation.

Pain is the body's way of recognizing that damage is being done, or could potentially be done. It prompts action to avoid the pain, presumably removing the body from further damage. So why do some (including myself) seek it out?

I remember being fascinated with bondage when I was quite young. I knew nothing about it. I had never seen pictures, or heard comments. But I do remember being in my parent's garage at the age of 13, and taking down some rope and tying myself up. It was the oddest sensation, to do this and enjoy it.

The first time I engaged in real bondage as a sex act, I was 15. I actually suggested that my boyfriend use some rope to tie me up. He got some twine from the garage, and he tied me to the bed, using the twine to spread my arms and legs wide, over the side of the bed. In spite of the fact I quickly learned that twine is very rough and cuts in to the skin, it was an explosively erotic experience. At my urging, my boyfriend continued to help me experiment with techniques, some disastrous, and others marvelous.

Not all men are interested in dominating a woman. This seems like a complete oxymoron, but it is true. I found myself seeking boyfriends willing to tie me up. This proved difficult, as almost any guy thought he would enjoy tying a pretty girl up, and certainly was willing to try to get a chance at me. All too often, they were unable to take on the top role, and I ended up dumping some very nice guys.

When I was 18 and 19, I did some modeling, which included some fetish modeling. This introduced me to a whole new area of bondage; being introduced to real equipment, solid techniques, made me realize how far I had yet to go. I found myself growing excited that there was so much more to experiment with, new sensations and scenes to play with.

I have been very lucky to have a husband that has been willing and able to take me further. During this time, bondage has given way to experimenting with pain, a natural progression. Bondage is inherently uncomfortable. It is a very small step to the introduction of pain which excites me and makes me feel alive in a way I have never before experienced.
....
I have begun to desire pain in the same way I desire to be bound. It is an intense physical reminder of the loss of control, powerlessness, humiliation and subjugation. There is nothing which enforces the sense of helplessness than expressing pain by crying out, and having your cries ignored. Or worse, having your mouth gagged to suppress your cries, further removing control. Within the context of sexual arousal, I have found that my pain thresholds are increased. Pain becomes a part of the erotic situation. It causes, and becomes part of the arousal. I seek pain in the same way, and with the same passion, as I do sexual stimulation.

I seek out pain and humiliation now, and it has become an important part of my relationship; being a slave has freed me in ways that truly excite and satisfy me.

I still enjoy and prefer sex, simple, lustful sex with my partner. But life is all about variety, isn't it?

Pony Training

2011-02-17T15:28:00.000-08:00

Coming home from work had taken on an almost ritualistic pattern for me. I parked my Lexus in the drive and entered the house to automatically shed the trappings of my day time life and work. Heading upstairs, I removed all my clothes, for I was generally forbidden to wear anything when at home. Nakedness and exposure was expected at all times, except for rared occasions.

Next I removed my makeup and simple jewelry, except for my collar of course. My collar is a thin but very strong circular band of platinum which can not be removed without some rather heavy tools. I wear it as a symbol of my marital and slave state instead of a wedding ring. It looks like a nice piece of jewelry, and I frequently wear a small diamond or sapphire pendant from it.

After peeling off the symbols of my employment during the day, I went downstairs and began cooking dinner. We expected company that evening, and I was fixing a special meal; home made lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. As the lasagna baked, I began to clean the house in preparation for Jason's arrival later.

At 6:30, Jason arrived home, and I could feel the slight twinge of excitement I still feel whenever I am in his presence. Jason is my master, my owner, my husband, and my life. I am dedicated to him and his pleasure, in all ways. I work at my job to earn money for him, to please him that I am productive. When at home, I am his plaything, subject to all his whims and desires. My body and mind are his, at all times.

I went up to him and kissed him on his cheek. His rough hands caressed my naked flesh and pulled me to him. Resting my head on his shoulder, I sighed in contentment, but then looked at him. "Is Jon coming tonight? I am fixing dinner for you. Shall I dress for the occasion?"

Jason shook his head. "No, dearest. You are lovely as you are. The dinner will be just for me and Jon tonight, you can remain in the bedroom."

This was a little unusual. In asking if I was to be dressed, I was asking whether I was to wear clothing because of our guest. Jason was making it clear that I was to remain naked while the guest was in our house, and to not participate in the meal. "Yes, sir. Should I eat before?"

"Yes, you can eat a little before he comes, which should be in half an hour. Let me know when you are done setting the table."

I did as instructed, grabbing myself a sandwich as I set the table and finished preparing the dinner for two. When the lasagna was done, salad tossed, and bread in a basket, I moved to the living room where Jason was reading.

"Everything is ready for you and Jon. Are you sure you don't want me dressed? I have never met Jon before, you know." I was concerned that a person not familiar with my status as owned slave would see me naked and question us. We are usually discrete about our relationship.

"I told you before, no. You are not to dress. Come with me." Jason rose and I followed him into the bedroom. Jason pulled out the wooden pony that he keeps in the walk in closet for punishment. I have only ridden it a few times, and the experience can range from uncomfortable to excruciatingly painful, depending on how long I am left to ride.

"Jason... I don't understand. Have I failed you in some way? Please, I don't see the need for punishment--"

Jason cut me off, "Siobhan, when will you learn to stop questioning me? I know you mean well, but you are constantly calling my judgment into question and arguing. This is to remind you that you are mine, and what I decide is final. Slide into position."

I could feel the sweat break out on my forehead as I raised one leg and swung over the wooden beam of the pony. I hate the pony. It hurts, and the longer I am forced to sit on it, the deeper the hurt goes, spreading and cramping through my clit, my cunt, my vagina, my hips...

Standing on my toes with one leg on each side of the wooden board I could feel the sharp edge below me, waiting for me to rest my weight on it. Jason took my hands behind my back and handcuffed my wrists together. He fondled my breasts for a moment. I was shaking just a little in anticipation as he slipped one hand between my legs and found my clit, rubbing it slightly. I moaned involuntarily.

Jason reached under the bed for the leg spreader, the device that would force my legs apart and make it impossible not to rest my weight on the pony. He pulled one of my legs to the side, and I felt the wooden edge dig into the soft flesh between my legs. The spreader was buckled around my right ankle, and then the left. As my left leg was pushed out to fit into the spreader, my full body weight pressed down on my labia lips, smashing them, and beginning the cycle of increasing pain.

I still tried to lift myself up by standing on my tip toes, but I knew from experience the effort was futile. Somehow, I couldn't help it. My calves strained, feet pointed out and down, toes reaching the carpet below me attempting to lift me up. My cunt ached already.

Jason kissed me and then left the room. I rocked slowly, back and forth, side to side, on the pony, beginning a long evening of suffering for my owner.

I heard Jon arrive about 15 minutes later. The door to the bedroom was ajar and I could hear Jason talking to him as they sat down to eat. I hoped they enjoyed the dinner I had prepared for them, though it was hard to concentrate on what was going on in the other room; the pain in my groin was slowly increasing.

It wasn't until after dinner that I began to hear what they were discussing. The area of my vulva was numb by then, though the aching pain was radiating outward across my hips. My face was wet from tears, though I refused to let out a sob or other audible evidence of my suffering. Rolling back slightly so that the pressure was on my anus, I listened to the men talking.

"I think it's a great idea, Jason," Jon was saying. "We the ranch is way out in the country and the spot is open. You and I could have a good time fishing and riding, maybe even hunt a bit. And the training would absolutely be good for her, I am sure of it. I have never seen a case where it didn't have a beneficial effect."

"Yep. She could use the exercise, too. She has an office job, you know, and has been getting soft. Not that I mind soft, but she could stand to lose a few. I could really enjoy the time off, as well." Jason sounded happy.

"We are fully equipped so unless she is an odd size, we could accommodate her. Would you be interested in breeding her?" Jon said.
"It't something to consider," Jason sounded thoughtful. A chill ran down my spine which mixed with the agony spreading across my ass. "Would you like to see her?"

After talking a bit more, the two men came into the bedroom. I hung my head, my hair covering my face from view. For some reason, I was always ashamed to be seen riding the wooden pony.

"Oh my, she is lovely," Jon sounded awed. "Yes, she will do well. How long has she been riding tonight?"

Jon reached out and touched my left breast, caressing my flesh and then sliding his finger tips down my side. Jason reached under my chin and lifted my face so that Jon could see my tear streaked face, and I could see the rough, weather worn face of a man slightly older than Jason. "How long have you been riding tonight, dear?"

I glanced at the clock on the wall. "93 minutes, Jason."

Jon laughed. "Precise bitch. I bet she watches every minute tick by, as well!"

They left the room, closing the door behind them so I could no longer hear. I was left alone with my pain, watching the clock tick by. It wasn't until I had been on the pony for almost three hours that Jason came back in and released me.

My legs shook as I tried to stand, and I barely made it to the bed before collapsing in a fetal ball. There really is no position that relieves the pain from riding the pony, but curling up sometimes makes my mind feel a little better. Jason sat down behind me and caressed my exposed ass and cunt as he explained to me.

"Well, Siobhan, I decided it was time for us to take a little vacation. Jon owns a ranch in the country and has invited us to spend some time there. It's a special ranch, one where special training for... slaves like you can be conducted."

I rolled over and looked at Jason with anxious eyes. "You won't give me up to someone else, will you? I am yours. You own me. Only you!"

Jason reached down and took my head in his hands and kissed me. "The training is pony training. You will be trained to act as a pony, to wear the proper attire, have the proper attitude and strengthen yourself. When you are ready, you may be allowed to serve by pulling carts or traps."

The ranch was in the foothills, distant from any towns. As with any long trips, I was transported in the back of Jason's SUV, naked with my wrists and ankles secured in a single bracket that kept me doubled over. It was nearly a five hour drive, and I was incredibly sore and tired when they finally lifted me out. Being secured in that manner, unable to move and then being lifted out and carried when we arrived impressed on me just how much of a slave I was. I didn't even feel like a slave, I felt like an animal, or piece of meat or furniture.

I was carried upside down across a large dirt open area that was partially surrounded by rustic wooden buildings. One of the buildings was a barn, and we entered through two open large double doors and into a central corridor. Stalls lined the corridor, each with a closed and barred wooden door. The two men set me down in the middle of the dirt floor and unlocked my restraints.

The two men were unfamiliar to me. I slowly stretched my arms and legs out, getting my muscles back in shape after the long cramped ride, and watched the men as they unbarred one of the doors to a stall. A small slit of a window lit the interior, showing the floor covered with hay, several iron rings and bars fixed to the walls, a couple of troughs... and that was it. I was let inside, and then left alone as the two men closed the door. I heard the bar slide into place outside. I was locked in.

It was sunny outside and the peak of the heated afternoon. The shade of the barn made it cooler, but I was still sweating, my skin slick. Dirt stuck to my flesh and made me look terrible, this worried me as I was used to always looking my best for Jason. I had to pee and there was no place I could see. I waited.

My bladder was about to burst when the door was unbarred and Jason and Jon came in. Jason immediately checked me to make sure I was OK, looking my naked body over. Jon poured a bucket of water into a trough and checked the straw. He then came over.

"Please, sir. Jason, I need to pee badly. May I go to the toilet?"
Jon responded instead of Jason. "You may pee at any time, anywhere you are, unless you are inside a building designated for humans. You may pee on the floor here, on the ground outside, or where ever you may be. No permission is necessary."

My mind had trouble grasping this concept... I was to urinate anytime, anyplace? This stall was obviously mine, I was to be kept here. I was to urinate on the floor of my cell? It began to sink in... I was being treated like an animal. I bit my lip and lowered my eyes as I blushed.

Jon went to the side of the stall and took something down from the wall. I looked at the curious item, which looked at first like a flogger, except the strands were too fine. Then I realized -- it was a tail. Three feet long, brushed horse hair which ran up to a large butt plug. A really large but plug. I whimpered as Jon brought it over to me.

"Bend over and present your anus." Jon's voice made it clear there would be no arguing. I leaned over and spread my legs. With both hands, I reached back, grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled them apart. I have never gotten used to this-- the slightly cool air penetrating to my anus makes me feel incredibly vulnerable and exposed. The plug was pressed against my anus, slowly wriggling and penetrating. My natural reaction was to clench, but I had experience with this and quickly pushed out, which relaxed the sphincter and allowed penetration more easily.

"Good girl, steady..." Jon spoke in a reassuring voice as he pushed and twisted the plug deeper and deeper, spreading my flesh wider and wider until it began hurting and I whimpered from the pain. "Good girl... just a little more and you will be there..."

Just when I thought I would not be able to take the plug, that it would tear me open instead, it slid in and narrowed. My sphincter automatically clamped down on the narrow neck of the plug, keeping the huge bulk of it inside. It was clearly large enough that it would not be expelled easily; it would take someone pulling it out.

"Good girl! I knew you could do it." Jon stroked my hair and then slapped my ass cheek as I raised up. Standing up made the plug shift inside, and it hurt a little, but I stood with my new tail hanging down behind me and tried to be as straight as possible. My breasts stood out in front of me, and I could see Jason look at me with pride. That in turn made me feel proud. I was doing well for him and was not an embarrassment.

Jon placed a long leash on my slave collar, and led me around the stall in a circle. I waddled some from the plug. "Don't worry, you will get used to that," he said." A few rules around here. First, you don't speak. We speak. You are a pony. We are your masters and trainers."

"You will wear your tail all the time. You will obey all commands. You will work hard to please your trainers. You will be fed twice a day, here in your stall. You may drink at any time water is present, but you will only be fed once in the morning, once in the evening. After you have fed, your tail will be removed temporarily and if you feel the need, you may then relieve your bowels here, on the straw. There will be no other opportunity to relieve your bowels."

Jon took a small riding crop and slapped my ass with it. "Raise your knees when you walk!"

I raised my knees higher as I walked around the perimeter of the stall. *Slap* another stinging blow on my thigh and I really raised my knees high, making a show of walking. I could feel my breasts jiggling a little as I pranced.

"Head high! Chin up!" Jon was giving directions as I pranced around the stall. Constantly correcting my posture and my gait, reminding me to look straight ahead, to keep an even pace, and so on. When I forgot an instruction, the riding crop would slap hard against my naked flesh, making me jump. It felt good when there was no sting because I knew I was doing well, I felt like a failure when he had to strike me.

I was finally allowed to stop and rest. My thighs were aching from the constant high stepping gait, and I was breathing hard. Sweat trickled down my face, chest and back. It had been a real workout.

"Jon, I would love to see any of the other ponies you have right now. Would that be possible?" Jason said as Jon tied my leather leash to a ring in the wall.

"Sure, let's go take a look," Jon replied, and they were gone.

I still needed to pee and had not been able to while I was being exercised. Looking around the stall, it was clear that there was no specific place to be used; there was simply a layer of straw. Choosing a corner, I squatted and tried to pee. It didn't come. The strange surroundings had me tense. Closing my eyes I relaxed myself... and it came. The pee streamed out and into the straw below me. When I was done, I stood and checked around the stall and got a drink of water from the trough.

My legs were still shaky from the exercise and I started to sit down. As soon as my ass pressed down to rest on the floor I leaped up again. Sitting down caused the tail to ram the plug deeper into my ass. I could kneel, stand, be on all fours, or lie down on my side, but I couldn't sit. I chose to lie down, and began to idly masturbate, looking at the wooden walls and dreaming of performing for Jason.

That evening a young man came into my stall. I stood up in the corner, not knowing what to expect. He was tall, blond, and well muscled, and looked my naked body over appreciatively, eyes resting on my exposed breasts and pussy. I stood motionless, waiting. Eventually, he brought in a bucket of something, and poured it into a small trough attached to the wall. It looked like Cheerios. He checked my water and refilled it.

Finally, the young man left and returned with a set of leather straps; a harness of some kind. "Raise your arms," he ordered. I raised them and he put my neck in a stiff posture collar, and buckled a harness around my chest so that it surrounded, but did not cover, my breasts. A belt was the last accessory; it was wide and he tightened it around my waist, making it a little hard to breathe.

"Please... that's making it hard to breathe. Can it be loosened?" I asked in a respectful voice. The stable hand ignored me, instead joining my arms together in the back and slid a monoglove up. Straps went around my shoulders, buckled tightly to prevent the binder from slipping off. Turning me around, he started tightening the laces, beginning from the bottom. At each eyelet, he pulled the leather surrounding my arms tight together, rising higher and higher. My elbows cinched closer together and as the laces were tightened in my upper arms my shoulders were pulled back as well. Finally reaching the top and tying off the laces left me in the tightest armbinder I had ever experienced. My shoulders were cramping slightly.

The stable hand checked his work, and satisfied with my leather pony gear, pushed me over into a bending position. My ass was exposed and he kicked my legs apart. Taking hold of the tail secured inside my ass he pulled, hard. It hurt horribly at first as the circle of my sphincter was forced open wider than it was meant to, but within seconds that wide portion of the plug slipped past and I was pushing the plug out and feeling tremendous relief.

Having finished withdrawal of the plug, the stable boy slipped his hand down between my ass cheeks and then down between my legs. I didn't know what to do, so I simply held still as his fingers rubbed the soft folds of my flesh, searching for my clit. When he found it, he moved one finger up and down slowly, rubbing it for a few seconds. While I was aroused, I was also confused by his attentions. He stopped after a few moments of massaging my outer labia.

left me alone in the stall, securing the door after he left. I waddled over to the trough and checked the food left there, discovering exactly what it had looked like - Cheerios. My arms were tight behind my back, neck in a collar, but I could bend at the waist and eat from the trough, which I did eagerly. I was hungry, very hungry, for it was evening and I had not eaten all day. I licked the bottom of the trough to get the last bits of food out, and drank deeply from the water, sucking it up between my lips. I even spit small amounts out to try and wash off my body a bit-- an effort that had limited success.

When the butt plug had been removed, it had been a tremendous relief, as if I had shit out the biggest bowel movement of my life. After eating, I realized I still needed to go; and remembered the schedule Jon had dictated. The plug had been removed and this was the time I would be allowed to defecate. Looking around, I surveyed the straw covered floor. There was the spot where I had peed; as good a place as any. I walked over and squatted.

Pushing with all my might, I felt the bowel movement beginning to come, just as the door opened and the stable hand entered again. My ass immediately clenched, cutting the poop off midway. I don't think I had ever been as humiliated as I was at that point. The man just stood looking at me as I squatted, with a smirk on his face. I closed my eyes, turned my head and pushed again, getting a little more out. When I had gotten as much out as I could, I stood up.

The stable hand kicked my legs apart roughly, and bent me over once again. He leaned over me as if he was going to assfuck me and reached around to fondle my breasts. His hips shoved against my ass and I could feel his erection pressing against his jeans as he dry humped me. I took it silently, but swore I would fight back if he attempted to enter me in anyway. I wasn't his property, I was Jason's. He stopped after a moment with sigh; using his fingers to spread my ass cheeks he re-inserted the pony tail / plug.

He wasn't as kind with the insertion as Jon had been. He shoved the plug up my anus as hard as he could, and the pain caused me to yelp and cry a little. I wondered if my flesh had torn. When my sphincter closed tightly around the neck of the plug and I felt the tail brushing the back of my thighs I stood and watched the stable hand leave once again. The final clunk of the door reminded me that I was trapped here, alone, my arms bound and a tail sticking out of my ass.

I went to sleep laying on the opposite side of the stall from where I had defecated.

The next day I awoke from a fitful sleep. Even though the days were hot, it had been cold in the barn and I was naked. My shoulders ached from the armbinder and the butt plug was irritating my anus. I had to go pee and poop, and was hungry. The only thing I could do something about was pee, and I squatted in my selected spot to relieve myself.

The ritual of the previous day's meal was repeated. Cereal, water, removal of the plug. A chance to defecate and then leaning over to be fondled and dry humped by the stable boy. A painful re-insertion of the plug and I was alone again until the stall door opened and Jason entered with Jon.

"Rick reports that you spoke to him when he strapped you in your harness. You were informed that this was not acceptable," Jon sounded stern. "I realize that this is your first incident of disobedience, but I find it is better to let new animals know the consequences of their misbehavior immediately."

Jason took a long leather lead and clipped it to my collar. I hung my head, worried about what the punishment for speaking might be and why that stable boy had it in for me. I was taken outside in front of the barn. The armbinder was removed and I groaned from the pain of blood rushing back into my shoulder joints. To the side of the central farm yard was a Saint Andrew's cross, a large heavy beamed wood X with short chains dangling from the four corners. I had a pretty good idea what it was for and tears began to roll down my cheeks as I began to shake.

From out of the barn, Rick and several other stable hands emerged, leading other naked slaves in pony gear. I had not realized I was not alone in the barn, but there were three women and two men that were led out to the center of the yard. It was clear they had been brought out to watch my punishment. I felt a flush of humiliation as I realized I was to be publicly whipped as an example for the other ponies.

In spite of the impending punishment, I was able to get a look at the other "animals". The women were all beautiful, two brunettes and a blond. One of the brunettes had long hair like me, the other was cut short in a very cute bob. The blond had longer hair pulled back. They were all lean and muscular. I realized they must have been trained as ponies for some time and were very fit.

The male ponies were different. One was tall and dark, with a muscular body. He was very well hung and I couldn't help but look at him with a certain desire. The other male was shorter, lighter and softer. He looked weak and had marks on his body from a recent whipping.

The whipping... yes.... I was led to the cross, my arms raised and shackled in place. My legs were kicked wide and also shackled in place, which made the weight of my body hang from my wrists. I reached my tip toes down to support myself and waited for the whipping to begin. I was embarrassed at how my legs were spread for all the other ponies to see between them, but there was no choice.

The whistle of the strap announced the first stroke. It sliced across my back from the middle of my ribs and up across my right shoulder blade. I jerked with the sudden pain and yelped. My head snapped back and I stared up at the blue sky for a moment before another stinging slice hit my ass, the tip of the strap wrapping around my hip and almost into my pussy. My muscles clenched from the pain and I grunted this time.

A total of six lashes with the strap and the punishment stopped. I was glad; I was sure I had welts across my back and buttocks. The wounds continued to throb as I was unchained from the whipping cross. I saw the other ponies observing my suffering. The tall male looked sympathetic. The females looked afraid. The smaller male was looking away. I couldn't help but let my gaze return to the tall dark male, and his well hung genitals. He excited me.

An alcohol swab was used on my wounds; it stung horribly and I whimpered as Jason held my head lovingly. When the alcohol swabs were done, I lay my head on Jason's shoulder and felt the comfort of my owner after the punishment. The other ponies were led away, most in different directions. I assumed they would continue their work or training.

My arms were reinserted into the armbinder, not quite so tightly this time. The waist harness was removed, but Jon retrieved a strange looking head harness that slid over the top of my head and buckled in back. The harness included a gag, or should I say a bit such as a horse might have. The single rod ran across my open mouth and pulled back tightly. I could feel the strange grin it forced on my face. It was covered with a soft leather and biting down on it felt good.

Last, two small bells were clamped onto my nipples. My nipples have been clamped many times before, but never outside, and never with bells that rang whenever I moved. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and painful as the clamps were large and tight.

The head harness had a long leather strap and this was used to lead me across the yard to a large circular corral. I waddled slightly while walking, due to the large butt plug and tail, but had no trouble keeping up. Jon pulled me into the center of the corral and with quick slaps of his riding crop he urged me to start walking in circles. Jason leaned against the fence and watched as Jon used the crop extensively to guide my walk. My ass and the backs of my thighs began to burn from the constant stings.

"Legs up, girl! Knees high!" Jon kept talking to me as I begin trotting around the corral. The bright morning sun felt like it was beginning to burn my skin, and I was sweating from exertion, but I kept going, working on my stance and my stride, trying to understand how to walk and how to please Jon, if for no other reason than to stop the stinging slaps from the crop.

"That's it, now you see!" Jon's commands began to shift to approval as I worked hard to make my trotting gait precise, high kneed, and smooth. Jason was observing with approval. I was proud of my body, and proud to be seen by Jason in this place. The more I succeeded in the training, the better I felt.

"Now, a nice run!" Jon took a whip from his belt and snapped it loudly just behind my ass. I felt the air swoosh by, but no sting; Jon was very precise and meant the crack of the whip as an encouragement, or a warning. I immediately began to run around the corral. My breasts bounced, my hair swung against my shoulders and back, and I began panting. Another crack from the whip and I felt a sharp sting on my left thigh which urged me on. I ran faster, as fast as I could with my arms still bound behind me.

Just when I thought I would collapse from exhaustion, Jon pulled back on my lead and slowed me down. My breath was coming in ragged gasps around my bit, which I was gripping with my teeth. I realized that the bit helped a little; being able to bite down on something helped with the pain from the whip and the concentration while running. When I finally stopped, I leaned over against the railing of the corral, trying to recover.

"Good girl, not bad for your first day." Jon was stroking my hair and then began sponging off my sweat soaked body with a large water soaked sponge. It felt fantastic, and I held still as he wiped my entire body down. The bit made me drool, and he wiped my face down as well.

Later that day, I had been taught the basics of how to walk, trot, and run in style. I was getting a feel for how a good pony trainer communicated his desires. A little jerk or flip of the lead, a quick sound, all could direct me to slow, speed up, or stop. The better I became at obedience and correct style, the happier I was. It was a good day, and I was succeeding at learning how to be a good pony girl. Jason looked pleased as well, which made me very happy.

In the late afternoon we were joined by one of the other trainers and the tall brunette female pony. She was dusty, the sweat having mixed with dirt on her flesh. Still, I could see her better close up and realized she had an incredible, strong body. Slightly taller than I, she walked with a straight back and prideful gait that made me envious. I found myself wanting to be like her, and perhaps even being with her, touching her amazing body. I wondered if the ponies were ever stabled together.

Jon began the two of us with a walk. He urged me to keep up with the other pony. The painful licks of the whip against my ass were not shared with the other pony; apparently I was the less experienced girl and would need to keep up. I matched her gait as well as possible, and after a bit Jon shifted us to trot.

As the other pony and I began to trot around the corral I began to feel an exhilaration I had never experienced. The two of us were perfect female specimens. We moved together precisely, our legs rising and falling together. We looked similar, with our long flowing brunette hair. Our bodies were both lean and strong, though the other pony's body was clearly more muscular than mine. I felt a sort of oneness with her, as if we were a single organism.

The longer we exercised and trained together, the happier I was. I hardly ever was struck by the whip or crop now, and Jason's approval made me so happy. When we were finally slowed to a walk and then a stop, I found myself wanting to stand next to the other pony, to smell her body, touch her flesh, return to her stall, and simply be ponies together.

Her name was Kerry; I knew this because the trainer had called her name several times. I felt my attention and desire pulled toward her as her trainer rubbed her down, using a sponge to cool her hot flesh and clean her. I followed the hands and water as they smoothed over her velvety skin, lifting soft breasts, water trickling down her stomach and between her legs. I hardly noticed Jon doing the same to my own body.

The sun was going down and we were returned to the barn. Kerry was returned to a different stall. Disappointment rippled inside me, though I was exhausted from the day and welcomed the chance to be in the stall and rest. The head harness and bit were removed and hung from a hook on the wall of my stall.

Food was available in my trough and I immediately ate. I was ravenous. It wasn't Cheerios this time, it was some other sort of cereal mixed with some apples; the sweetness was wonderful and I gulped it all down, licking the sides of the trough to make sure I had all of it. I then plunged my face into the water trough and drank deeply.

When I was done, the stable hand that I hated was standing behind me. He grabbed me, pushed me over to the wall and grabbed my tail. He yanked it out, hard, and I screamed with pain as my anus was torn. He laughed a bit and then left the stall.

I needed to poop, but my anus was hurting badly from the tail removal. I huddled in the corner for a while, crying. The hay had been cleaned out during the day and replaced with fresh hay. I peed. I tried pooping, and got a little out before it began to hurt too much. I curled up for a while, and then tried to poop again, getting a little more out. That stable hand was a sadist and there was nothing I could do about it.

When he returned with my tail, I cowered in the corner. He grabbed the leather lead and pulled me out, shoving me over into a bent position. He tied a rope through a ring in my armbinder and then threaded it through a ring in the wall of the stall. He pulled, and up my arms rose in back, forcing me over into a bent position. He kicked my legs apart with his heavy boots and then began dry humping me once again. I felt his hard cock through his jeans as he pushed and rubbed as hard as he could; it was as if he was trying to climax but couldn't.

Then the worst happened. He unzipped. He couldn't get off enough just dry humping, he needed more direct contact. Grabbing my hips he pulled me toward him. My arms were raised high up behind me, restricting movement, but I tried my best to wriggle away. He hung on and started rubbing his exposed cock against my buttocks and between my thighs.

I started to scream and I continued wriggling. He pushed harder, not entering me but getting very close. His pumping action was becoming faster but he didn't like my screaming; he clamped one hand over my mouth and muffled my cries. My screams were no longer very loud, but with only one hand on my hips he couldn't hold on to me very effectively and I was able to wriggle away. His hand slipped from my mouth back to my hips and I felt him get ready to enter me...

He stopped suddenly. I wasn't sure why until I heard the stall door open; he had heard someone come into the barn. Jon entered and stood observing the scene. "Fucking the animals, Michael?"

The stable hand withdrew and pulled his pants back up. "She was askin for it," he mumbled pitifully.

"Right. She was strapped up helpless and screaming; asking for it. You know better than that. She has an owner, and it isn't you. Using another man's pony for your own... it just isn't allowed. Pack your stuff and get out."

The stable hand stumbled out of the stall and that was the last I saw of him. Jon unstrapped my arms, and asked, "did he get inside?"

I shook my head.

"Good. It is up to Jason if another pony or someone else can use his pet. You can settle down for the night. It won't happen again. I brought a blanket for you." He threw a coarse blanket on the straw, then picked up my tail, which had fallen on the straw. He gently spread my ass cheeks. This time the plug went in smoothly; my sphincter was getting used to it and took it well. Especially as it wasn't being rammed in.

Jon left, and after calming myself some more and slurping some more water I lay on my side, kicked the blanket over me, and slept.

A new stable hand arrived the next day and did a much better job; he fed and watered me, cleaned my stall and put down new hay, and even folded my blanket. I could tell he was attracted to me but kept looking away, as if he was afraid to let his eyes roam over my naked body. He did remove my tail, and allowed me some time to defecate. My anus had become sore from constantly wearing the plug and I grunted and cried a little. The stable hand had me lean over and inspected my ass carefully.

I still wasn't used to letting strangers paw me, but I stood still has his fingers spread my ass cheeks and probed my sensitive anus. I yelped and whined a little when his fingers pressed on the raw and bleeding parts. His response was kind; he produced some lotion which when on smoothly and acted as a healing salve as well as a lube for the plug when he pushed it back in. All in all, I looked at him gratefully when he left. A good stable hand can make a big difference in the quality of life for a pony girl.

Jon arrived soon after the stable hand left, and proceeded to belt me into my harnesses. My arms were still bound behind me and he added leather harnesses around my breasts, chest, and hips. My hair was brushed thoroughly and then tied back. A head harness with a bit was added, and I was proud to see that this one was decorated with feathers, though it also had blinders. I could look directly ahead, but not to the side. The bit was pulled back, deep into my mouth once again. It felt comforting to be able to bite into it, though I felt myself begin to drool soon after it was inserted.

With a little geeup noise, Jon had me prancing out of the barn and joining Kerry out in the barnyard. She was adorned in the same leather trappings as I, and I found myself staring at her beauty. She carried herself straight and tall and proud, standing obediently. Seeing this, I raised my head and straightened my back, attempting to match her proud stance.

Once Jason joined us, Jon began putting Kerry and I through our paces. We walked, trotted, pranced. We perfected our simultaneous movement, silently following each other. The whip licked my ass or back on occasion, but not as much as the day before. I was getting better, and Kerry was helping me.

It was hot and I was sweating. We were led to a large water trough, and allowed to bend over and immerse our faces, sucking up water.

Jon was satisfied in the afternoon, and suggested that I be fitted for horse shoes. Jason agreed. I had no idea what this might mean; so far I had been barefoot (and had some cuts and sore spots even though the yard and corral had been soft dirt).

When the pony shoes came, they turned out to be leather boots that came up to just below my knees. They had heavy metal soles in the inverted U shape of a horse shoe. When I put them on, my heels were pushed up as if I was wearing high heels, but the base of the boot was heavy and sturdy, not like heels at all. I pushed and kicked with the new boots, kicking dirt up and getting the feel of them. My feet felt heavy, but I also felt like I could go anywhere and do anything.

A stinging slice of the whip across my back got my attention and I stood still. "Keep those feet still. No kicking up dirt there!" Jon demanded.

I practiced walking, trotting, even running in the new boots. It was difficult at first but I quickly got the hang of lifting my legs and keeping my feet high so as not to trip or drag my hooves.

Finally, Jon told Jason I was ready to be put to work.

A different harness was used, a rougher one that was designed with heavy wide straps that fit across my chest and hips. My arms were kept behind me, but no longer in the armbinder. This allowed room for my elbows to flex, which helped me when pulling. I wore the heavy horse shoe boots, which were necessary, as Kerry and I were led across a rough field to an area where some brush and trees had been cleared.

A cart filled with wood and debris from the clearing stood waiting. Kerry and I were placed in front of the cart next to each other while heavy ropes were attached to our harnesses. When all was ready, there was a loud crack of a whip and the two of us started pulling the cart.

At first, it didn't budge. I strained and heaved, feeling the leather straps biting into my naked flesh. I could hear Kerry next to me grunting with effort as well. I couldn't see her because the blinders on my head harness prevented any peripheral vision, but I could feel her pulling along with me. Another crack of the whip that was accompanied by a searing sting across my ass got me pulling harder than I thought was possible. Just when I thought I would strain a muscle the cart suddenly lurched free and began bumpily rolling forward.

For the rest of the day Kerry and I pulled the cart filled with rocks, wood and other debris out of the field where it was dumped in a hollow. We then returned with the empty cart, waited for it to be loaded, and then pulled it back once again. It was by far the hardest work I had ever done, but Jon and Jason took good care of Kerry and myself. We were watered frequently, and our filthy bodies wiped down every hour or so.

Perhaps the hardest part of the day was getting used to urinating. At one point when we were waiting as the cart was filled, I felt Kerry spread her legs and then heard the splash of liquid. It reminded me of how badly I needed to go, and I remembered the instructions when I arrived. I could urinate at any time. Spreading my legs I tried to let go of my bladder. It didn't want to cooperate at first; outside in the field with workers watching my naked body, I was simply intimidated and shy. But after a while, the need overcame my shyness. I attempted it again and this time was rewarded by letting loose of a steady stream of urine that seemed to go on forever. It felt wonderful to be empty and from then on I had no trouble peeing anyplace, anytime.

At the end of the day Kerry and I were untied from the cart and led back to the barn. I was exhausted and thought I would collapse as soon as we arrived in my stall. It felt good being in the barn, to rest and feed.

Both Kerry and I were led into my stall. Oat cereal was there for us, with some apples and berries. It was such a treat, and Kerry and I shared the trough. She ate ravenously, wolfing down the food quickly. When we had cleared the food and drunk our fill of water, a stable hand came in and removed our tails.

I watched Kerry bend over and expose herself so she could be de-tailed. I saw her relax her sphincter muscles as the stable hand wiggled the plug, and then her anus suddenly expanded wider than I ever thought possible. Her plug came out suddenly, sliding out as her anus closed around the tapered end. Once again, I observed her body more closely, and became envious of her lean, solid frame and muscular legs. She was gorgeous. A perfect pony.

I bent over and while my plug was being removed I heard Kerry relieving herself in the corner of the stall. After my somewhat slower and more painful de-tailing, I went to the same spot and also relieved myself. My lower abdomen felt such relief and I began to feel better from the work of the day.

The two of us had our horse shoes removed and then were given a bath, water dumped over us and then wiped down thoroughly. As Kerry received her bath, I watched every portion of her body as strong hands rubbed her down with cloths. I caught her looking at me once or twice as the stable boy cleaned me, taking special care to clean between my legs and ass cheeks.

As grateful as I was to be cared for, it was something of a relief when the stable boy replaced our tails and then left us alone. As soon as he left, I lay down on the clean straw. Kerry moved over and lay down next to me. It was cool now, the sun was down and the temperature was dropping. Her body heat pleased me.

I opened my mouth to speak to her but her eyes flashed a moment of fear as she shook her head. Instead she lay down next to me, spooning my body. I pressed backward against her, my tail pushing back against her hips. She raised one leg over mine, opening and exposing her pussy. My tail slid back and we snuggled together as best we could with our hands still secured behind our backs. After a little while I realized that Kerry was slowly rocking her hips against my ass, and my tail. The base of my tail was pressing against her pussy and she was slowly masturbating. I pushed back against her to help, keeping up with her rocking motion. She gasped and leaned forward to nuzzle my neck, and action that made me hot, aroused, lustful. I pushed and rocked with her as she pressed harder and harder and then quietly moaned and shuddered with orgasm.

It felt so good to feel Kerry's breasts on my back, her leg over mine and her hips rocking together with mine. I wanted to get on my knees and spread my legs and let her fuck me, but instead I rolled over and kissed her deeply. She returned the kiss and we lay together, allowing our tongues to play for a while.

With a quirky grin, Kerry slid down my body, stopping briefly at my breasts to suckle my nipples. I lay on my back, hips rotated up so that my tail lay flat and didn't jam up into my rectum. As she slid further, I spread my legs in anticipation of her arrival at my own pussy.

She was amazing. Her tongue flicked my clit, teased me at first and then sucking me into her mouth. Her lips slid over my most sensitive outer parts as her tongue plunged deep. My hips raised high to meet her and it took very little time before I felt my own climax spreading. I moaned loudly, speaking no words but making my desire, my passion for this female known. My legs were shaking, weak from the day's work but I kept my hips raised until I was spent. I then collapsed.

Kerry and I slept together, spooning and snuggling all night. She had become my ideal, the pony I aspired to be, the partner I wanted.

The next day Kerry and I performed together, training more in the corral and then hauling debris and doing other work around the farm. It was in the late afternoon that I observed an interesting interaction which surprised me greatly. I had just been led back to the barnyard and had my leather reigns tied to a ring on a fence near the corral, which was in use.

The corral was being used to do some intense training of the tall dark haired male pony I had observed before. As he pranced around the circular area I found myself staring at his lean naked body, and had my attention once again drawn to his well hung genitals. The shorter blond female pony was tied up to the side of the corral, observing the male's training, which ended soon after. The male was left to wander about for a while as the trainer talked with a tall woman standing just outside the fence, whom I took to be the male's owner.

As I watched, the short blond pony turned and leaned over the fence slightly, bracing her stomach against the wood and spreading her legs slightly. She remained there, and did not move. The male noticed her in this position and began to slowly move to where she stood, exposing her pussy for him. His cock was growing as he moved and by the time he positioned himself behind the female pony it was fully erect. He was truly well endowed, and I looked with envy as he moved his hips into position and began a slow pressing motion between the female's legs.

The trainers and owners at the other side of the corral took no notice of the sexual activity of the ponies. The male pony had slipped inside the blond pony and was pushing to get in deeper. The female was arching her back and thrusting backwards, encouraging his deep entry. In moments they were rhythmically fucking, banging hips together as Kerry and I watched. Kerry nuzzled my neck in a sort of intimate gesture as we watched, and I nuzzled back. It felt incredibly odd watching the two ponies engaged in intercourse so casually and in the open, but I was also aroused and Kerry was heating me up even more as she rubbed her body against mine and nuzzled my neck.

Eventually, the noise produced by the two ponies in the corral drew the attention of the owner and trainer. Rather than interfering, they looked on with mild interest, discussing something between themselves. A final loud grunt from the male and moan from the female announced the end of their activity, and as the male slipped out of her he nuzzled her lovingly. At the same time I felt Kerry nuzzling me and turned to her. I nuzzled her back; I wanted to wrap my arms around her I was so aroused and attracted but both her wrists and mine were still bound behind us. Apparently, the nuzzling act was a sexual approach between ponies that I was learning.

It took only a minute before I was down on my knees and burying my face between Kerry's legs. My tongue sought out her soft folds of flesh as she spread her legs and thrust her hips forward to help me service her. My nose rubbed her clit, my tongue buried deep inside her and I was gratified to hear her gasp and moan softly. She tasted beautiful, better than any woman I had ever been with, and I pushed to delve as deeply into her as I could. Her hips began thrusting and rotating up and down, encouraging more movement, which I gave her gladly.

I was so happy, so involved, that when Kerry orgasmed it came as a surprise. I could have knelt there all day, simply drinking in that pony's sex. But the climax came, and when it was over I stood and suddenly realized that the two ponies in the corral and the owner and trainer had been watching us. I flushed bright red with embarrassment, and moved behind Kerry to hide myself. Kerry seemed undisturbed, and eventually I stopped hiding. I nuzzled Kerry, letting her know exactly how much I appreciated her companionship.

For several days I was paired with Kerry and trained with her. My back was initially sore from the periodic stings of a whip or riding crop, but as I learned how to behave it became easier to avoid such encouragements. I could feel myself becoming stronger, as well. Kerry's body was so lean and strong that I had concluded she was the perfect pony, and the perfect woman. I looked to her as my model in everything, and enjoyed sleeping with and making love to her each evening. When our hands were not in armbinders, we spooned and the spoonee would user her hands to stimulate the spooner. When we were in binders and unable to use our hands, we used our tongues and any other part of our body we could to bring pleasure to each other.

The day came when I was led off alone. Kerry was left behind and I felt empty and incomplete without her. I was led to the other side of the barn where a small cart or trap was resting on the ground. The trap was a small, two wheeled vehicle with a single seat for a passenger. It had two long poles extending out from it. I was positioned between these poles. I had seen them in use before, and knew basically what to do.

The harness for the trap was elaborate, partly because it was decorated and ornate. The headgear that was placed on me included feathers and blinders, as well as the usual bit. Straps were placed around (but not covering) my breasts, and a heavy corset was added. Below, a waist strap was added to assist in attaching and pulling the cart. Reigns were added, running from either side of my headgear behind me to the trap.

When I was completely harnessed and ready, Jason arrived and climbed into the cart behind. I felt the reigns shake slightly and Jason made a knickering noise. I pulled and began moving forward.

Keeping a steady motion moving forward was difficult, and I knew I was jerking the cart both side to side and forward and backward. Jason was very kind with the whip but eventually I felt its stinging lash cut across my bare flesh as he reminded me to keep a steady forward movement. He pulled the reigns and guided me as I pulled him around the road that surrounded the farm. We must have traveled almost three miles on dirt roads when we arrived back at the barn.

I was exhausted. My back stung from the frequent urgings of the whip, and my legs were shaking from tiredness. It had not been bad starting out, but eventually my muscles had started burning and pulling became harder and harder, prompting Jason to urge me on with the whip. I knew I had a criss cross of red welts across my back and ass.

Jon came out and joined Jason as he unhooked me. They spoke of something as they unharnessed me from the rig and also from the more decorative parts of the harness. I overheard enough that it seemed that Jason was pleased with my performance which made me glow with happiness. But then I heard something about a punishment and began to cry from fear. I had tried so hard it didn't seem possible that I was going to be punished.

I cried quietly, tears running down my cheeks as Jason led me through the barn and out into the large barnyard. All the ponies were there, and we joined them standing, looking at the whipping cross at the side of the yard. Attached to the cross with chains was the smaller, blond male pony that I had seen my first day at the farm. With sudden relief I realized that the male was to be punished, not me. He was breathing heavily and sobbing audibly. It seemed strange to me that he should be crying before the whip even stung him.

A tall woman wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a heavy denim shirt stepped up behind him and wielded the whip. Though she appeared to be about 40 years old, she was gorgeous. Long ebony black hair shown in the sun, her jeans were tight around her ass and a flat stomach enhanced the look of breasts that pushed her shirt out above. She cracked the whip once to get the feel and heft, and the male cried out and shook.

"Please, Mistress Sonja, I have done all you asked! I am your good slave and wish nothing but your pleasure, don't whip me! I have done nothing! Please!!!" The male broke into a sudden pleading that surprised and shocked me. I had been without speech and amongst other ponies that did not speak for so long that I was literally offended to her the weak male begging like that. It turned my stomach that a supposedly devoted slave would break silence and insult his Mistress by protesting his innocence.

The woman leaned over and spoke in the pony's ear quietly. Whatever she said made him wail and cry as she stepped back from him and pulled back on the whip. She let it fly with an expert hand. It stroked across the male's back and wrapped around the cross, licking his sides as it struck. She yanked quickly, causing the whip to drag back across the wounds it had just cut into the flesh.

The wimpy male pony screamed from the pain of the first stroke. I noted this whip was no flogger, it was a 9 foot long bullwhip. As it whistled through the air and sliced across the back of the pony again, I averted my eyes and looked up at Kerry, who stood next to me. Kerry was staring at the spectacle with a strange look that I think was satisfaction. The screams continued, accompanied by the crack of the whip, and Kerry leaned down to me and nuzzled me kindly. I kissed her back, and then we both turned to watch the whipping continue.

When it was over, the male pony was slumped down, hanging from the chains that held his wrists aloft. He was unchained and fell to the ground, sobbing. Bloody streaks criss crossed his back. I felt sorry for him, but also felt glad that it was not me laying on the ground. I also felt a twinge of pride that I had not needed to be punished; I was obedient, a good pony and slave for my owner. I was satisfied.

The days moved on, alternating periods of training with work of various sorts, until one day I was led to the back of the barn and observed there were four traps; four carts waiting to be hooked up and be drawn by ponies. Jason was there and harnessed me with solid, decorative leather. The other ponies were also brought out and harnessed. The owners of all four of us were there, and took their positions in the seats of the traps.

I felt good. I felt strong. It felt good to have Jason behind me again, guiding and urging me on. We rode out to the road which circled the farm, and then all lined up together, facing down the road. It was at this point that I realized what was happening.

It was a race.

Jon positioned himself by the side of the road and waited a moment before taking a starter's pistol out and firing it. As soon as it cracked, Jason shook my reigns and we were off, gaining speed. I worked hard, pulling as fast as I could. Kerry was in front of me, as was the tall hardbody male that was so well hung. The other female was neck and neck with me, though my blinders kept me from seeing her. Jason cracked the whip without letting it touch me, urging me on.

I could tell I was pulling away from the other female, the blond that had fucked the large male. As we entered the first turn I cut closer to the edge, trying to gain on the tall male. I got closer, but his owner slapped him with the whip and he suddenly moved forward again. Jason was being kind, he didn't use the whip on my back; he could see I was motivated to all I could to win.

As we entered the second turn, the tall male in front of me suddenly caught a stone under his foot and lost momentum for a moment. It was all I needed, and with a burst of effort I was able to pass him. His owner started whipping him mercilessly, but I had gained the momentum and maintained my place just short of Kerry. Kerry was moving with a long, practiced stride, her breasts bouncing slightly, her flesh a shiny sheen from sweat. I could not help but see her adoringly.

I realized at that moment that I had fallen in love with Kerry, and that she was everything I had ever wanted in a female partner, mate, playmate, coworker... I also realized I wanted to pass her and win, very, very badly. I pushed hard and gained a little.

We went into a third turn and ahead of us was Jon, standing with a finish flag. We were on the last straightaway, and as hard as I tried, I could not gain on Kerry. She was just out of sight to my left, behind the point where I could see her past my blinders. As we approached the finish line, I felt the stinging slice of Jason's whip across my shoulders. I gave one last burst of speed as we crossed the finish line and Jon waved the flag.

After the race, all the ponies were unharnessed and rubbed down my stable boys. I was washed with water, massaged and my hair brushed. My pussy hair, which was shaved when we arrived but had grown out, was brushed gently. My tail was brushed. When I was done, watered and rested, we were brought to the corral and saw the owners laughing and exchanging money. Apparently, there had been bets as to who would win.

Kerry came over and I did not understand why she looked so sad. She rubbed against me, nuzzling and kissing me. I nuzzled and kissed back. She looked good, her hair and tail had been brushed like mine, all the dirt and grime washed off, and her skin looked healthy and smooth. Looking at her standing there, hands strapped behind her back, breasts thrust outward, tall and straight, a beautiful piny girl, I felt the rush of adoration. I pressed against her, my cheek on her bare breast. She was crying softly, and I could not ask why.

The next day my tail was removed, all harnesses and restraints taken off. I was given a meal of meat and vegetables and fruit. When I was done, Jason came and told me to follow him. I did, and he led me to his car. On the hood were clothes.

"Put on your clothes," Jason said.

I looked at him questioningly. I didn't understand.

"Go ahead. We are going home. Vacation is over. Oh, and you may speak now."

I reached forward and handled a pair of panties. I knew what they were for, but it seemed like years since I had worn clothing and I found I didn't want to put them on.

"Siobhan. Put on your clothes. You have been an excellent pony girl, but it is time to go home now."

I obeyed, and stepped into the panties. They felt extremely strange. I turned to Jason and willed myself to speak, however unnatural it felt.

"Jason... This doesn't feel right. This has become my home."

Jason smiled at me. "Yes, you really have grown. I had no idea when we came here just how well you would adapt. You are a born pony girl. Perhaps we can return some time."

As I put on a bra (a most distasteful and uncomfortable feeling), I thought about home.

"Yes, Jason." As the jeans went on and then a top, I began to cry.

"What's the matter Siobhan? You have done well. You are stronger, more obedient. You are going to be a better wife and slave for this experience. It has been good, hasn't it?"

I turned to him, dressed except for my shoes, which I could not bring myself to put on.

"Yes, Jason. But... tell me. Where does Kerry live? Will we be able to see her again? She and I... well, we have become close."

"I saw that, Siobhan. I enjoyed watching the two of you. Remember, she is owned by another, and you are owned by me. She is a dedicated pony, all the time, her owner brings her here periodically, but she lives in another part of the country. Some day, you may be able to see her again."

We got in the car and as we drove down the road on which I had raced against Kerry just the day before, tears rolled down my cheeks.

Constant Reminder

2010-05-04T07:55:00.000-07:00

Sex had become a medium of submission for me, and to please him while in restraints had become my ideal setting for my own climax. When I felt him approaching orgasm, it drove me wild. I began to struggle against the bondage in spasms I could not control. Without being bound it would be so much more difficult, so much less intense. The restraints increased my sensitivity to him and to my own feelings. When he finally orgasmed, it triggered something inside me and my rational mind released to the feeling of ultimate pleasure.

My body relaxed all at once as the orgasm swept past me. Spasms in my thighs and legs which pressed and strained against the straps subsided and left me sagging in my restraints. Jason had spurt inside of me moments earlier, and had begun slowly sliding in and out, enjoying the feel of my body surrounding his cock.

When he finally released my arms and legs, they encircled him as he encircled me. We lay together, intertwined in sweat and the other smells of sex. He kissed me lovingly, setting off feelings of gratitude and love that made me remember that I would do anything for him, suffer anything for him.

Later that evening, he showed me a new toy he had obtained.

"It's a strapon..." I said, a little puzzled.

"Yes, in a way. But not exactly," he held the device in his hand and explained. "The dildo part on the strap is reversed. It goes inside you."

"Oh..." I wasn't sure how I felt about this. It seemed OK, it might even be pleasurable. If not, I had been subjected to much worse than this device.

Jason was sitting on the couch with the bundle of straps in his hands. I was kneeling naked before him, hands on my slightly spread knees. It is a position of subservience that I have come to take automatically when talking with my master.

"May I hold it? It seems more complicated and sturdier than other strapons I have seen." Yes, I had used strapons before. Both with men and women, though usually with women. This one really did look a little different. There were more straps than I was used to, and the connections where straps were sewn together were quite sturdy. Several buckles showed that it could be tightened on my body so that it would not slip. Strapons that slip are a pain.

"I would like you to put it on," Jason handed me the leather bundle. I stood, and straightened the straps out until I figured out how they should go around my body. I spread my legs slightly to accommodate the thick center strap which I slid between my thighs. Before pulling it up, I positioned the dildo at my pussy lips and then pushed. It slid in with easily (I still had some of Jason's fluid inside me and was wet).

As the reverse appendage sunk deep within me, I shuddered slightly, my nipples growing hard. Pressing the strap hard, I made sure it was all the way in, and then pulled the ends of the straps up. The center strap in the front connected to a waist strap. The back strap split in two, spreading to either side of my ass cheeks in a V.

"Turn around," Jason took the waist strap as I turned my back to him. He pulled up, making sure the strap between my legs was pulled taught, and then buckled the waist strap behind me. It felt quite tight, and I tried to adjust the waist strap a little for comfort. It moved very little.

"It's designed to stay on. I've placed a lock on the buckle, so you won't be taking it off anytime soon," Jason had a happy sound to his voice. I in turn grabbed the waist strap and pulled, yanked and adjusted. My left hand probed behind my back, and felt the buckle, and yes... the small padlock. Pushing the waist strap down didn't accomplish anything, my hips are significantly wider than my waist and the strapon was not going anywhere until he unlocked me.

I sighed, turned to face him (my legs spread slightly to accommodate the strap between them), and knelt in the submissive position. "As you please, sir."

He kissed me. I melted as I kissed him back, his hands roaming over my body.

"Let's head to bed," he said. We rose, and prepared for bed. He was brushing his teeth when I realized I needed to go to pee.

"Jason..." I looked at him and lowered my head slightly, my long hair falling on either side of my face. "Um... Jason, I need to pee. Can we remove this so I can go?"

Jason turned, wiped his mouth and kissed my forehead. "Siobhan, dear. You might as well get used to dealing with this. That strapon is not coming off for the next week."

I think I must have turned white as a ghost. A week? I was going to be wearing this ... thing in my pussy, locked in place, for a week?

"Jason, I am yours. You may do with me as you please. But... please... how am I supposed to live with this for a week? At work? Driving? I don't think I can pull it off!" I could hear the slight panic in my voice.

"Well, I certainly hope you can not pull it off. If you tried and were to succeed, there would be much more significant punishment in store for you. Don't worry. You can do it. The dildo is small and the leather supple, designed for long term wear. Peeing will be a problem, but you will figure it out. Now, go to the toilet and then clean yourself. Come to bed."

A tear rolled down my cheek. I tried to stifle my feeling of panic. Jason had never done this before - introduced a punishment or restraint that I had to wear during work. The closest I had come to this was my slave collar, which is permanently screwed in place around my neck, and made of a resilient steel. It serves as a necklace as well, with a beautiful diamond Jason gave me on our wedding day.

Peeing was awful. It sprayed inside the strap, leaking on both sides of it and dribbling down my thighs. Some got inside my pussy, or at least in the folds of my labia. When I was done, I tried to clean myself as well as I could with toilet paper, but the strap squeezed tightly against my flesh. It was virtually impossible to get underneath to wipe.

After some time, I managed to get mostly clean. It must have taken me 20 minutes, and I resorted to using one of Jason's handkerchiefs because toilet paper kept shredding into little pieces. I felt like taking a shower, but Jason was getting upset, demanding my presence in bed. I climbed between the sheets, and we drifted off to sleep, his arms around me.

Work the next day was the weirdest it had ever been. I work as a manager in an IT shop, supervising a number of employees in the network and server area, as well as coordinating and supporting a wide variety of development and deployment projects with other groups. I am professional in all I do, hard in demanding and setting requirements and goals, and a good negotiator. Some might call me a bitch, but my boss knows I get things done.

This time... I could think of nothing but the appendage between my legs. As I entered the building, I tried my best not to waddle. The dildo sticking up inside me moved and wriggled as I walked, creating the most bizarre sensation. The leather strap between my thighs forced my legs apart slightly at all time, and some sort of waddle was unavoidable.

I realized two things right away. First, I was going to walk as little as possible during the day. Second, I should never had worn a skirt. I couldn't effectively cross my legs as I sat, and my legs were forced apart slightly. I could not remember ever being that humiliated before.

Peeing remained a major problem. I could go, but the pee literally squirted from the sides of the strap onto my inner thighs. That was the easy part. I then had to clean myself, which took forever; I worried that people would wonder if I was all right and come find me in the restroom. I had a supply of handkerchiefs, and they helped a lot. Still, I had to wash myself afterward, which was dangerous as someone might come in to the ladies room at any moment.

A two o'clock meeting was a disaster. I sat at the table, my legs apart underneath. I knew that no one noticed this, but I still felt incredibly exposed; if anyone were to look under the table, they would see my legs spread and my panties covering some sort of leather object between my legs. Trying to concentrate on the topic of uninterruptable power supplies, I realized that I had been shifting in my seat, and that the movement was causing the dildo to slide in and out slightly; not to mention my clit being rubbed. People were looking at me a little oddly.

The final straw came when I realized my nipples were hard and protruding against my blouse. I flushed, and excused myself from the meeting, waddling out the door.

That night, I begged for relief.

"Jason, it's my job! You have no idea how humiliating it was. I can't hide it, people know something is wrong. It's distracting!"

"Siobhan, this is exactly what is supposed to be happening. This is an insistent reminder to you that you are mine. I own you. You are my property. You work because I allow you to work, because I desire it. If I desire that you hang by your wrists in the basement instead, then that's what would happen. You seem to have forgotten that recently. This is just a reminder. Now, take off your clothes, and fix me dinner."

I did as I was told.

The next day, things were a little better. I wore pants instead of a skirt, and my top was a heavier knit. I postponed or canceled meetings, and held more small meetings with people in my office, where my odd stance could be hidden beneath my desk.

Strangely, during times when I was lone in my office and things were quiet, I found myself concentrating on the sensations of being filled, impaled by this rubber thing that had situated itself inside me. I began doing Kegels, squeezing it and concentrating on its texture. It was actually a rather good imitation of an actual cock, and I began working on accepting it as part of my dress and body.

The third day I discovered there was just enough play in the strap that I could move it back and forth. This wriggled the dildo, as well as rubbing my pussy and clit. I sat in my office, legs spread wide under my desk, pushing the leather strap back and forth. My face grew flushed, my breathing faster, and suddenly a climax swelled and took me unexpectedly. I cried out with a short moan before stopping myself. But there was no doubt about it, I had just had an orgasm.

The fourth day I tried to remove it. In the restroom, in a stall, I shoved, prodded, pushed, pulled, wedged and stretched it as best I could. It was simply too tight around my waist, and effective chastity belt. The leather was wearing on my inner thighs, creating red welts which hurt. The waist strap was tight and restricted my breathing. It was OK most of the time, but I had to take the elevator now instead of going up stairs.

One of the cable guys asked me if I was doing OK. He noticed that I wasn't moving around much, and was looking unhappy.

The reverse strapon was beginning to hurt. It chaffed against the skin and the inside of my vagina was being rubbed raw. I moved less and less, but it still got worse. I stopped masturbating with it, as the movement irritated the raw skin.

Each night, I would kneel naked before Jason, legs spread, and ask that he remove the belt. In each case he lovingly and firmly refused.

Because my pussy was permanently filled, Jason took me from behind. He used plenty of lube, and the feeling of his entering my anus and filling me, rubbing the thin separator of flesh between his cock and the dildo, was extremely arousing. Yes, anal with Jason was painful, even with lube. But there was something wanton about it, something that brought me a pleasure I didn't experience any other way, and the reverse strapon just made that even more intense.

Laying on the bed on my side, one leg up and back over Jason, I felt him enter and penetrate. I pushed back against him, and his hand reached to the belt, pressing and moving it against me. A new kind of orgasm flushed through me, again and again, each night that he took me.

Saturday evening after dinner Jason called me over, and I knelt before him, knees spread and my hands on my knees. I bowed my head slightly. He placed his hand gently under my chin, and brought my face up to look him in the eyes.

"Do you continue to need a daily reminder of your ownership?" His voice was quiet.

I thought for a moment, knowing that answering automatically could get me in trouble later.

"No sir. I don't think so. At least... not right now. I know now that I had allowed my own desires to interfere with my devotion to you. I realize my work is simply an extension of my service to you, my master. However, I am yours, and if you feel that the reminder is required, then I submit." I bowed my head, a tear trickling down my cheek. I really, really wanted him to remove the chastity belt and get the dildo out of me. I was getting a yeast infection and the irritation was going to drive me insane. But... it had been a lesson. I was his slave and would submit.

"Stand, spread your legs," he said as he reached for the key. I did as I was told, and he unlocked the waist buckle. Slowly, painfully, the dildo slid out of me. I could tell the flesh of my vagina was dry and worn, and had been stretched wide. It would return to its former tightness, but not for a while.

Jason examined me. "You have some sores, but we will get some antibiotic cream and sooth it. You will be fine."

He stood and took me in his arms, kissing me deeply. When the kiss was over, I wrapped my arms around him and lay my head on his chest. "You are my master and my husband. I am your wife and slave. It is my honor and duty to suffer for you."

Anal Punishment

2010-02-26T00:23:00.001-08:00

Slavery to my husband has been wonderfully fulfilling to me in ways I never imagined. Feeling completely owned, completely devoted, completely possessed by him is a dream come true. Acts of discipline reinforce the relationship, and remind me of my subservient position in ways that make me feel excited, happy. Part of the reason for this is that my slavery is such an opposite experience to my outside life.

I am in management in the IT department of a large company, a professional with a number of direct reports. There, I must exercise my mind, wield control, make decisions and manage complex outcomes. Work can sometimes be stressful, and preoccupies my mind. It was this tendency of getting caught up in work that prompted a very practical lesson from Jason.

I was home late from work, for the third night in a row.

“Jason, I am sorry, but the server upgrades are going slower than planned and we have to set up the downtime for the weekend.”

Jason looked upset.

“Siobhan, I understand. I really do. And your financial contribution to our finances is great, and I support your work. But dear, you not only have a responsibility here at home, you have a –”

Cutting him short, I argued with what I knew he would say. “Yes, I know. I know. I am yours, I know this and I intend to fulfill my duties. But right now work is simply demanding, and you know how IT is.”

The argument went on a little further. Jason was entering one of his cool rages, and it testifies to how wrapped up in work I was that I missed the warning signs. But I did, and suddenly, without saying a word, he reached out, snapped a leash chain to my permanent slave collar, and started leading me upstairs.

“Jason, I am sorry. I didn’t mean disrespect… please… don’t punish me.” I knew by now I had overstepped and he was not pleased at all. I was his slave, and he was about to remind me of that fact.

When we reached our bedroom, he yanked the chain to the bed. He then turned me, pushed me onto the bed face down, and drew my wrists behind my back. Handcuffs snapped into place and I lay there, beginning to cry just a little but not moving. I knew that I needed to be very still and obey his every word at this point, if I was going to minimize his anger and the punishment.

Jason took hold of my skirt and pulled it down my legs with a single hard yank. The fabric tore as it went down, and the zipper scraped my thigh (leaving a long welt which I discovered later). I yelped more from surprise than pain but managed to stay still, laying on my stomach, with my legs over the edge of the bed.

My panties were yanked down next, and easily, leaving my ass exposed and just on the edge of the mattress. I was crying now, tears running down my cheeks and I buried my face in the blanket, unable to wipe them off.

I heard Jason remove his pants, and then his naked legs came between mine, spreading them. His hands grabbed my ass cheeks, and pulled them wide apart. I realized with a twinge of panic what he was going to do.

“Please, please… Jason, don’t do this. You know how it hurts, I am sorry and will behave… please at least use lube…”

The tip of his cock pressed against my anus. I buried my head once more and concentrated on relaxing as best I could. It was hard, I was paniced and emotionally very upset. Pushing back on his cock as he pressed in, hard, I could feel it begin to penetrate my rectum… and then the pain started.

Jason’s cock isn’t huge, but it is pretty large, and gets very hard when he is aroused. He was impaling my ass without lube, and it was going to hurt. With a sudden, massive shove, his hips thrust and cock jammed into my anus, penetrating several inches. I cried out in pain, I felt like the senstive flesh was being ripped and torn, the muscles over stretched. I wriggled some, and he slapped my ass hard with his hand several times.

“Oh god oh god oh god...” I was whimpering, and then the second massive shove came. My scream was muffled from where my face was buried in the bedding, and I tried to struggle. He grabbed my handcuffed wrists and pulled on them, yanking my shoulders back painfully, raising my head out of the bed and shoving my ass back onto his huge cock.

My sphincter was completely convulsing around him, trying to expel him with no success. He withdrew a few inches, and then shoved again, this time pulling back on my arms hard at the same time. He impaled me even further, and I grunted and then cried out again from the pain. I was certain I was bleeding now. I was bent back from where he had hold of my wrists and arms, my breasts were actually raising up off the bed.

He let go of my wrists, and instead grabbed my long hair and pulled my head back all the way. I found myself looking at the bedroom wall and ceiling, and feeling like my scalp was being removed – a burning sensation that made me sob and plead once again.

“Jason, please… this hurts so bad, please, I will be good — auggghhhhhhhh…” I grunted and cried once again as his cock plunge all the way in and my legs jerked wide as his hips pushed them apart.

His cock slipped out, about half way and then jammed in again, all the way. I could feel his testicles slap against my pussy and heard him grunt with satisfaction. Once again he withdrew and then plunged deep.

Either my sphincter was relaxing or my entire ass had been split open, for he began fucking my ass with a steady motion. The horrible ripping feeling had faded and was replaced with the sensation of having a hard, wide rod shoved deep inside me leaving abrasions as it went. Which was, of course, exactly what was happening.

I raised up a bit, trying to get my ass up into an angle that would give him better access, both to please him and to reduce my own pain. It was hard, because he kept pulling back on my hair so far my back was arched and my breasts had risen up completely off the sheets. I supported myself by my extended arms now, to help relieve the tearing pressure on my scalp as he pulled my long hair back with each thrust.

He was grunting with each thrust, and I was making involuntary noises as well, “ah.. ahh… ah.. help… god… oh… oh… aaah… aaaaahhh…” I had forgotten how huge his cock was. I could feel the ridges of his stiffness, and sliding of his flesh inside me as he moved back and forth and my own anus distended and hugging his cock as he withdrew and then plunged deep.

I struggled a little, not really consciously, but being ass raped like this, with my head bent backward and hair pulled almost out of my scalp made me lose a bit of my mind. I tried to move my arms, wriggle my legs, but nothing helped. He had hold of me in a solid position and was fucking me as hard as he could. I could feel his cock getting even harder as his thrusts jerked harder and more quickly.

He suddenly let go of my hair and I fell back down on the bed. His hands went to my hips, which he grabbed securely and shoved hard back against his own. I had stopped crying, and was simply grunting from the pressure of his thrusts. With a sudden single hard thrust he cried out, and I felt the convulsions of his cock begin.

His orgasm seemed to last forever. Spurt after spurt, his cock contracted and convulsed in my ass. I lay there and felt it inside me, felt the warmth of his semen as it filled me inside, and the continuing moans that accompanied his climax. It hurt, a throbbing pain, but the pain seemed slightly soothed by the pleasure he was experiencing inside me. I was still his slave, his fuck toy, his wife.

When he was done, he collapsed on top of me, and I lay unmoving. My tears had stopped flowing though my cheeks were still very wet. The blanket underneath my face was soaking wet from my tears and from saliva – I must have drooled quite a bit while he was fucking me. I lay, feeling his weight on my back, his cock still inside my ass, but getting smaller.

Eventually, he slowly slid out of my anus, and the feeling of his departure was both a relief and slightly painful as the raw flesh of my damaged insides slid together. I grunted a little and moaned. As he stood, he warned me to remain exactly where I was on the bed, and so I remained motionless, on my stomach, legs hanging over the edge and spread wide.

When he returned, he gently spread my ass cheeks apart.

“Siobhan, you need a real lesson in obedience. The pain of your assrape is the beginning. My semen is inside you and will remain there for a while as a reminder, I may continue the lesson later this week.”

I felt something pressing against my anus once again, something cool and smooth. It slowly spread me farther and farther apart, until my anus was stretched wider than Jason ever could. I recognized the feeling as I whimpered in the pain – he was inserting a butt plug. A big one, too from the feeling. He wanted to plug up my ass, remind me of what he had done and make sure his semen stayed inside me for a while.

When the butt plug reached its widest point, and my pain from being spread and stretched was the worst, it suddenly got smaller. My sphincter automatically closed around the narrow neck of the plug, and it was clear from the feeling of complete and total discomfort and fullness that there was no way I would get the plug out without pulling it out, and then only with some pain. It was in there for a while.

While I still lay in bed on my stomach, Jason took my leash chain and fixed it to my handcuffs, raising my wrists painfully to the middle of my back. In this position, my wrists were held up high, attached to the collar around my neck, preventing me from reaching the ass plug.

Jason raised me up, and wiped my tears. I was still wearing my top, but was nude from my waist down. He led me downstairs, and we finished our evening together in this manner. He allowed me to eat dinner in a dog dish, as my hands were still restrained behind me. Later we watched some TV before retiring for the night.

That night I slept with the butt plug and Jason’s semen securely inside me, my wrists raised uncomfortably behind my back. While the pain in my ass subsided, I wondered what he had meant when he said… “I may continue the lesson later this week.“

Dinner Party

2009-11-17T23:32:00.001-08:00

The nature of my rather unique marriage arrangement with Jason is not widely known. There are some close friends who are aware of my indentured slavery to my husband, but I can count these on the fingers of one hand. Well, maybe two.

As you can imagine, discussing the unique nature of my servitude and submission to my owner is not really a good topic for work or family. Four people who are aware of my submissive nature are our next door neighbors, Jim and Erin and the couple across the street, Steve and Diane.

So it was that we decided to have our neighbors over for dinner, to be sociable and have an enjoyable evening. It was a Friday night, and I had prepared a pork loin dinner; elegant but in a very casual way. Two wines were ready, the dining room set, and I wore a nice dark blue knee length dress. As always I wore the thin metal ring around my neck — my slave collar (it doesn’t come off without a blow torch or similar instrument).

Steve and Diane arrived first, and we sat down in the living room to drink a little wine before dinner. I really like Steve and Diane; they are older than Jason and I by three or four years, but very good looking. Steve is tall and skinny, Diane is an average sized blond but with a voluptuous body. We had played together (sexually) once before and had a wonderful time. I wondered whether it would happen again sometime, as I sat and reviewed Steve’s muscular arms and thought of the time I rode him, almost in that very spot. I had not had enough time with Diane during that encounter, and wanted to fully explore my bisexual tendencies as well.

Jim and Erin arrived, looking as elegant as ever. Erin is perfection in style, a petite brunette that talks quickly and always looks professional. Jim is much taller than Erin, and has a slightly rugged look about him; unless you knew them as Jason and I did, you would never guess that Jim was submissive to Erin. In face, as they joined us in the living room for drinks, I think I spotted the telltale signs of his male chastity device through his pants.

Poor Jim… I think Erin uses him mercilessly at home; she rarely allows him an orgasm, and has a tendency to humiliate him constantly when she is with us. I saw his chastity device once. It was a tight fitting hard plastic cover over his penis, which was kept in place with a tight ring around his testicles, and locked on to a strap that went around his waist. Any direct contact with his cock was virtually impossible, and if he ever had an erection (which was undoubtedly quite unusual), it would be painful. To say the least.

We were enjoying each other’s company but I flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the living room to make sure all was well. The time came for dinner, and I announced that we should enter the dining room. Everyone rose, and we transitioned to the formal dining area, finding our seats.

As the others sat, I stopped and didn’t move. I had seen something that was a little hard to comprehend at first, and then caused a flush of embarrassment and horror as I realized what was happening.

There, instead of the usual chair at my place at the table, stood the dildo stool from the basement.

I quickly looked at Jason. It was clear he had placed it there. He was talking to Erin, who sat next to him. Erin saw me looking, and Jason followed my gaze.

“Siobhan, sit down, join us. The meal looks delicious!” Jason smiled slightly and knowingly.

“Um, Jason… can I talk to you?” I did not want to sit on the dildo during my formal dinner party. It was uncomfortable, but more importantly, it was going to be humiliating.

“What about dear? Everything is fine. Sit down.” The last words came out as more of a command than a suggestion. I caught sight of Erin next to him, smirking. Jim was staring at his plate, not moving. I didn’t dare look at Diane and Steve.

“Yes, Sir,” I said, emphasizing the Sir, as my little way of letting him know that I was unhappy with him but obeyed anyway.

The process of sitting on the stool was humiliating, as I had presumed. I had ridden the stool only once before, and had been tied tightly at the time. It had been a most painful experience. This time, I was to ride it myself, in full view of our neighbors, during my own dinner party.

Positioning myself behind the stool, I spread my legs slightly and moved forward to straddle the device. With my legs spread wide, I hiked my skirt up to my hips, exposing myself to the rest of the dinner party.

I could feel my face flush, as I kept my eyes down and away from the others. I reached down, and pulled my panties to the side, exposing my pussy. Spreading my lips with my fingers, I nestled the dildo in my cleft and began to descend.

To explain about the dildo – it isn’t an actual dildo. It is a round wooden rod which tapers upward to a point at the top. It resembles a blunt spike more than anything. A lubed condom is slipped over it to prevent tearing of my sensitive internal flesh.

As I lowered myself, I could feel the forced widening of my vagina. The spike increases in width as it approaches the seat of the stool, expanding until it is around three inches wide at the base. The further I descended this shaft, the wider I was spread, until it became difficult to continue lowering myself. I looked up at Jason, and saw all the guests watching the spectacle, Erin smiling, Jim still looking at his plate, Diane looking slightly horrified (but curious), and Steve with a look I can only describe as lustful.

“Go on…” Jason said softly.

I lowered my weight further, pressing down on the spiked protrusion from my seat. My lips were spreading farther than ever, and it was becoming painful. Then the point reached my cervix, and I gasped involuntarily. I had not reached the seat yet, I could not see how further I had to go, but knew I needed to continue my downward press.

I remove my hands, they were no longer needed to expose myself or spread my pussy lips. I simply needed to sit. My skirt pulled down, obscuring the activity below, and I smiled as best I could at the others. Pressing down, the point pushed up into my cervix and my pussy widened. I tried to keep my smile going, but I am sure the discomfort showed on my face as my weight finally finally pressed down on the seat and I sat still, simply savoring the horrible feeling of being impaled at the dinner table.

Dinner began. I was grateful for the diversion. Food began to occupy everyone’s mind, as well as myself. I sat rather stiffly, and had to ask others to pass items to me as I remained motionless on my stool. But the food was good, and we began enjoying our time together. At least, I think the rest of them did. I participated, but the constant discomfort of the impaling device nagged at my consciousness.

My embarrassment faded somewhat, and I tried to act as normally as possible. Eventually though, the inevitable happened.

“Siobhan, dear… will you get us some more wine?” Jason asked politely.

“Um… Jason… would you mind getting it?” I asked pointedly. I was impaled to my chair, after all.

“No, dear, I believe you should get it. Please serve your guests.”

“Jason, you can’t ask me to keep getting up and –” I began when he interrupted.

“Are you arguing with me?” he said sternly.

“No, of course not… but –” I began in a chastened voice, but tried to continue my protest.

“Siobhan, I hate to do this, but you need to learn to do as you are told, and not to talk back.” Jason looked dour, unhappy as he rose and went to the closet under the stairs, where some of his toys are kept. He returned with a ring gag and stood behind me.

“Oh my god, Jason, no, I am sorry, I will obey!” I cried out, tears beginning to fill my eyes. I was flushed and humiliated once again as I became painfully aware of our guests watching my discipline.

Slowly, I opened my mouth. I felt the bottom of the metal ring enter my mouth, behind my lower teeth. Wider… wider to get the top of the ring in. Painfully wide, my jaw stretching to accommodate the ring. Finally, it was in and I relaxed my jaw some. The smooth coldness of the metal pressed into the flesh of my mouth, holding my jaw wide open.

Jason bucked the strap behind my neck, over my hair, and then returned to his seat.

“Now, let’s try again. Siobhan, will you please get our guests some more wine?” Jason looked at me pleasantly.

I lowered my head and looked down as I began to rise up, the dildo slipping out of me. There was some relief as my flesh seemed to slide back into place, and the process was much quicker than sitting. I slid my panties back in place, lowered my skirt, and went into the kitchen.

The wine was opened in a moment, and I got a second bottle, just in case. I didn’t want to be sent to get more items again. Maybe I could avoid this agonizing display again.

The gag made me drool, and I wiped my mouth before reentering the dining room. The wine was served, and I returned to my stool, mouth gaping wide, drool already forming again.

The process went faster this time, straddling, spreading, pressing down. I think my flesh had been stretched a little, the muscles made accustomed to the wide spike distending my pussy. That spike was the widest, deepest thing I had ever had inside me and was deeply uncomfortable. If I didn’t move at all, the feeling was one of intense discomfort. Any movement caused the point to massage and press against my cervix, and it felt like the entrance to my vagina would tear at any moment.

With my mouth held wide open with the ring gag, there was no way I could eat. Jason insisted that I continue though, and I tried the best I could. I cut the pork into tiny pieces, tilted my head back and poured them in. Mashed potatoes were a little easier, but I made the most horrible gargling and choking noises as I tried to swallow. Drinking wine was easier yet, and I found myself drinking more and more.

With my jaw held open wide, I could no longer participate in the conversation, which went on without me.

It came time for desert, and I repeated the earlier performance, sliding up on my dildo, arranging things in the kitchen, wiping the drool off my chin (noticing that a significant amount of drool was already on my blouse), and reentered the dining area. Sliding down on the dildo was faster and easier each time I did it, and seemed to become almost natural.

Fuck, it did hurt though. I couldn’t stay perfectly still. To minimize movement I sat with my legs to the side of the stool, instead of the front. This made the angle a little better, though it must have looked odd to the others.

When dinner was finally over, we rose from our places to go to the living room for coffee. I rose with great relief… it was wonderful to feel liberated from that spike. As we sat down on the couch, I asked Jason as best I could through the gag,

“…an oooo ake awww thiii gag? leeese?”

“I am sorry, I can’t understand you. Can you say that again?” Jason said seriously.

“aayy i leeese aaaa this gag awwww?”

“Oh, I think I understand. You are asking if you may remove the gag?” I nodded, looking at him with big eyes. “Well, I am not sure. We haven’t had any entertainment yet. Erin, Jim, Diane? Steve? What do you say we use Siobhan for a bit as entertainment as the end to a very pleasant evening?”

“That sounds great!” Erin immediately chimed in. Jim sat silently, knowing something of what would happen and having some sympathy for me. Diane and Steve both seemed to agree as well. And so the entertainment began.

Jason cuffed my wrists behind my back. I am used to this, I spend a lot of time with my hands cuffed, though not always in front of neighbors. I was then made to kneel in front of Jason, who unzipped and pulled out an already hard cock. It slid easily through the ring gag and before long he was thrusting deep inside my throat.

Jason’s taste is familiar. His flesh has a slightly musky flavor, and I sometimes say he tastes like buttermilk biscuits. I actually enjoy his scent and flavor. The shape of his cock is familiar as well, and I have become accustomed to having it slide deep over my tongue, into my throat, and have trained myself not to gag. I am proud of the way I can take him all the way in, and make him come quickly. The only time I have a problem is when he thrusts past my uvula, and the tickle from that can cause a slight gag; he actually enjoys doing this as he claims the gag presses on his cock and is very pleasurable.

After a few minutes I felt his cock harden like a rock, his thrusts changed in urgency and he held it in deeply. Moments later a pulsing rhythm ran through his member as the muscles contracted, and I could feel the warmth of his juices as they spurted into my throat. I swallowed, quickly. He was so deep inside that I didn’t taste his come at all.

Erin clapped, laughing in delight at the show and my performance. “That was marvelous, wonderful! She must do my Jim, I insist on it!”

Jim looked a little confused. He was wearing his chastity device, and I could see the questions run through his head, just as they went through mine. Was she going to take off his chastity belt, and allow me to suck him dry? That didn’t sound like Erin, who maintained absolute control over him. I was a little confused too, but obeyed and shuffled over to Jim on my knees.

Jim stood and unbuckled his belt. With a quick zip, his pants descended to his ankles, revealing solid blue boxer shorts. His bulge was more obvious like this, and I positioned myself in front of him. With a quick glance at Erin, he slid his boxers down, and revealed his genitalia, nicely secured in the chastity device. There was a small but sturdy metal lock on the belt that secured the contraption to his waist. The sheath that fit over his penis was minimal, revealing glimpses of flesh held tightly in the plastic tubing. His testicles showed prominently below, as the device had a ring that went around their base, causing them to bulge out and down slightly.

Presenting himself to Erin, Jim waited for her to produce the key and unlock him. Erin looked at him with a puzzled smile, and said “Jim, face Siobhan – she is the one that is going to do you, not me!”

“But… my device…” Jim spluttered in a confused voice.

“No, Jim… I want to see what you two can do with your cock while you are still wearing the device.” Erin looked my way, “Do your best to make him come. I expect a performance like we just saw you and Jason give!”

It didn’t matter to me either way, but Jim looked like he was practically going to cry. Jim is a solid, good looking guy, and seeing him shudder and turn toward me with fear made my heart go out to him. He sat, spread his legs wide to give me access to his imprisoned privates, and prepared himself.

My hands were still cuffed behind my back, but I slid forward on my knees until I could lean over and get to his cock. I began to try and get it into my mouth, but then stopped and turned to Jason.

“I can dooo a etter jaww ithout the gag…” I said. The gag was preventing me from using my whole mouth and lips to stimulate Jim, which would be important given the plastic prison wrapped around his cock. Jason approved, and removed my ring gag.

“Thank you, Jason,” I said gratefully. I had been drooling constantly, and while my cuffed hands could not wipe my face and chest, it was nice to be able to stop the running stream of saliva from my mouth. Returning to Jim, I considered the best way to proceed.

I could see the cock restraint did not actually prevent stimulation; perhaps to allow for long term wear and hygiene, it did not cover the entire penis. There were definitely places where I could get to him. The restraint worked by holding his cock in place in a flaccid state; any swelling would become painful as the restraint squeezed against the turgid flesh.

Too bad for Jim, I thought… OK for my part of the action. I took him into my mouth, and began work.

Quickly, I could feel the areas of bare flesh in my mouth. The hard plastic covering was smooth to my tongue, but the bare skin could be felt easily and I began playing with it. My tongue ran around, over and under, searching for the openings, feeling for reactions. I could not get to his cock head, it was covered. Until, that is, I discovered that I could press my tongue up the end of the tube, where he presumably released his urine. It tasted slightly of urine. In fact, his general taste was one of urine and dirt, sweat and … something metallic… blood?

As I played with him, Jim began making noises. They started out as moans, but then grew to a kind of bleating cry. They were the strangest sounds I had ever heard while giving head. I continued working, wondering if I could get him to an erection.

His hips moved, and he seemed to be in some significant level of pleasure in spite of his flaccid penis. His movements, the wriggling, thrusting motion of his hips, all seemed as if I was giving some good head, though his movements were a little odd. Not what I was used to – the thrusting motion of a guy fucking my mouth. But something was sure happening.

As his cries became louder, I felt it… and realized what was happening. Poor Jim was, in fact, erect. At least as much as his plastic prison would allow. The flesh was bulging, protruding through what openings existed in the device, and his cock head was extended slightly out from the end of the tube. But as blood rushed to his cock, attempting to elongate and widen it into a stiff, straight member, the chastity device enforced a bent, smaller position. The result must have been incredibly uncomfortable, if not downright painful.

I kept on stimulating the best I could, and Jim continued to writhe and cry out in agony. All I could see was his stomach in front of me, the rest of the dinner party were behind me, or to the side, watching me work and Jim writhe. I felt sorry for him, but what could I do? I kept going.

Jim was crying now… literally, with tears. He must have been feeling the overwhelming urge to ejaculate, the pain of restriction, the inability to reach climax, the humiliation of being tortured like this in front of neighbors. I took him entirely in my mouth, cock and balls, pushing him deeper. The chastity device was hard and scraped on the top of my mouth, but I shoved it deep, doing my best to stimulate all the exposed flesh I could get.

It worked. I could feel his muscles working between his legs, though the noises he was making didn’t sound happy. He was in pain, trying to come, unable to without an erection. I grabbed his hips and guided his movements, flicking my tongue all over, trying to find any exposed area of skin.

In one great heave and cry, Jim ejaculated into my mouth. The chastity belt prevented his cock from descending into my throat, so his come squirted against my tongue and the roof of my mouth. My mouth quickly filled with it, as he continued squirting, more and more of his semen filling me. It seemed like he went on forever, though finally he collapsed back, sobbing, holding his painfully compressed cock in his hands.

There was the sound of applause, as the group behind me clapped their approval. I had been so intent on my task, I had forgotten they were there. Turning to face them, still on my knees as a sign of obedience and submission, I opened my mouth to show everyone that I had succeeded. Erin in particular examined me closely.

“He hasn’t come in almost a month… I guess he was saving it all up. That’s a lot of come you got there,” Erin patted my cheek.

I turned to Jason, waiting for instructions.

“Swallow it, then go clean yourself up,” he advised.

The come in my mouth tasted strange; it was slightly sweet with a tangy bite like Clorox. Not pleasant like Jason’s, but I swallowed it anyway. After clearing my mouth and showing it to Jason for inspection, I went into the kitchen where I washed myself as best I could given my hands were still cuffed behind my back. There was saliva and come all down the front of my chest and my makeup was smeared.

Later that night, as we said goodbye to our guests, Steve and Diane mentioned that they had enjoyed themselves tremendously. “The food was good, the company delightful, and the entertainment delicious!” Diane said enthusiastically.

“Perhaps you would like to join us sometime for some more in depth play?” Jason offered.

Steve looked at Diane, and they seemed to agree together before he answered. “I think so. I think we could learn a lot from the two of you.”

Jason closed the door as they left (as my hands were still cuffed behind me). He kissed me on my forehead lovingly, and said quietly, “You were fantastic tonight. I am so proud to be your owner.”

I felt a glow of pride, and answered “Thank you, my love. I am here to serve, please and suffer for only you.”

My Wooden Pony Ride

2009-08-13T11:35:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have ridden the pony.

Some have asked that I relate my experience here, and at my husband's approval and request, I shall. I have ridden more than once, though not often. I shall relate my first experience, when we tried it for the first time, not knowing exactly what to expect.

We were sitting at dinner, and had been talking about work, politics, whatever... when Jason suggested, "I think we should try a wooden pony ride."

I knew what he was talking about. Anyone truly into a BDSM relationship does, but I had never applied the concept of riding the pony to myself. It struck me completely unexpectedly, and I stopped eating for a moment and just looked at him.

"Um.... really?"

"Yes," he responded casually. "It is something I have always been fascinated with, and I know you have thought about it as well. Jim has done it, Erin told me. I just think it is worth a try..."

I thought about this. New forms of bondage or pain always intrigue me, though they also scare me, not knowing exactly what to expect. I suppose that is one reason I try them - I have this perverse need to try new things to see what my limits are, what the sensations are like. This one made me nervous though - my appetite left me as I considered it.

"Well. I suppose they would be rather expensive, and not easy to get a hold of. You weren't thinking of making one, were you?" Jason is handy with tools and likes to do some basic woodworking.

"No, see I read a little about it. A simple saw horse will do. I have one already, it could be made ready very easily."

"Oh..." I realized I had been hoping that it could be postponed. "Well. I guess so. Do you really want me to?"

"Yes." He sounded decided. Definitive. "I have thought about it, and think it would be a great experiment for both of us. It turns me on, the thought of you slowly suffering on the pony. The whole idea of reenacting the tortures of the past is kind of intriguing as well."

The tortures of the past. This was an inquisition torture, though historically it had been around a lot longer in various forms. The nerves in my stomach were pronounced. I knew now that it would happen, it had been decided. Something new to look forward too... something new to fear.

It was scheduled for Saturday. 8pm. I had suggested we start slow, with a 20 minute session. He had suggested three hours. We negotiated, and compromised on three hours. (He is my master, after all).

Part of the sweetness of this kind of situation is the anticipation. Rituals, scheduling punishments, examination and preparation, all create a sort of suspense and heighten fear. This is especially accute when the experience is to be new, and the pain unknown. That week, during the day and at work, I was fine. But in the evening, the looming image of the scene scheduled for Saturday began to work on my nerves.

I found myself going out to the garage, to look at the saw horse. It was so innocuous. It was just a piece of wood with some legs. He had two of them, stacked in the corner. Running my fingers over the wood 2x4, I realized that it wasn't pointed. It was flat on the top. I wondered if this would make the ride more bearable.

I pressed my hand down on the top, trying to imagine this hard, narrow seat driving its way into my pussy. It was impossible, I could not imagine what it would feel like. Hopes began to swirl in my mind that it would not be too bad. But then I would be reminded... this was an ancient torture, used because it was effective. It was going to hurt, I knew that. It was designed to.

Friday night. Jason and I were going out to a dinner near the beach, and we got dressed up nicely. One day left, and I stood before the mirror in our bathroom and looked at my naked body. I played idly with the jeweled collar on my neck, and assessed my body. I was thin, not extremely so but at or slightly below my ideal weight. I worked hard to keep my body looking good. Spreading my legs slightly, I surveyed my pussy, the slight protrusion of my mound, the softer flesh between my legs. I felt where my bones were, placed them all and wondered how they would be pressed upon during the ride. My weight was low enough I would at least be spared the pain of a heavier frame pressing down on my groin and pussy flesh. Still, I weight over 100 lbs, and it was all going to be pressing in that one small spot.

Saturday was surreal. I awoke with butterflies in my stomach. Nervousness, fear, anticipation, like the day of a big test, or going in for an operation. I tried to spend it as normally as possible, serving Jason, doing laundry, even going out with Sue from across the street for lunch. Behaving normally was difficult. I kept getting rushes, alternating between shuddering anxiety, and a rush of arousal.

I screwed up the laundry, using the wrong amount of bleach. One of Jason's shirts ended up with stripes of white on it. For this error he took spanked me, not unkindly, but enough to sting. When it was over but I was still spread with my ass on his lap, he caressed me between my legs, his fingers gently exploring my wetness, and sliding into my vagina slightly. I knew he was thinking about what would be happening down there in just another couple of hours. So was I.

As the hour approached, I found that I could no longer pretend to be normal. I watched some TV, sitting on the couch as the sting of the spanking faded. I can't recall a thing that was on, I was thinking of nothing but the saw horse in the garage.

At 7:30 it began.

Jason rose, and went into the garage. I knew that he was preparing things. I sat on the couch and whimpered to myself, feeling my pussy every few seconds, amazed that I was wet and engorged even when I was afraid.

At 7:45 Jason returned, and ordered me to strip. I removed my clothes, my top, jeans, bra, panties, everything. He stood for a moment and approved of my body. He does this frequently, especially when he is about to apply punishment. His approval made me flush, and I bowed my head to hide my pleasure.

My wrists were pulled behind my back, and tied together with cotton bondage rope.

He led me to the garage. The center had been cleared, and a saw horse was in the center of the clearing. It was almost exactly as I had seen before, except for a couple of small eyelets he had screwed in to the wood.

My heart was beating wildly and I was shaking slightly as I positioned myself next to the pony and waited for his instructions. Jason came over and helped me swing one leg over the pony, so that I was standing over the central 2x4 beam. I could feel the wood slightly brushing the protruding flesh of my labia.

Jason knelt below the pony. He tied each ankle with a rope, and then loosely threaded the rope to a metal eyelet that he had screwed into the wood on each side of the pony, behind where I was sitting. I wasn't sitting on it yet, not riding, but I could feel the solid feeling of the pony below me. I gratefully noticed he had sanded the wood to prevent splinters, something I would never have thought of. Nevertheless, the beam retained its sharp corners, which I now clearly felt.

My tied wrists were attached to another rope, which extended to an eyelet on the pony behind me. It lifted my wrists slightly away from my back.

There was a large wall clock on the garage wall, which I could see clearly. It said 7:55. I stood over the pony, knowing my ride would begin at any moment. I shivered a little, the garage was cool and I was naked.

"Thank you for sanding the wood," I said simply. My voice sounded shaky.

"You are welcome. I think you will be in enough discomfort." Jason smiled and kissed me. I kissed back, remembering that I was doing this for him, as well as myself. I felt more confident. I needed to remember I was going to suffer for him, it was part of my purpose, my role.

At 8:oopm exactly, Jason pulled my feet out from under me. With a smooth pull, he lifted my feet backwards, so my knees bent and my legs pointed toward the back of the pony. He tied me right ankle up to the side of the pony, and then did the same to the left. No longer able to stand, I sat down hard on the narrow strip of wood.

My ride had begun.

The first sensations were unremarkable. I was immediately calmed, I felt better than I had in hours. It was uncomfortable, yes... but not terribly painful. The edges of the wood dug into soft flesh a little. The pain was endurable.

The angle of my legs, pulled back as they were under the pony, had thrust my weight forward just a bit. I was sitting with more of my weight on my pubic bone than I had anticipated. I shifted back, moving my weight to my perineum. This helped a little. The softer flesh with less bone underneath took the weight a little better, and I settled in for a long ride.

Jason had been checking my ties, positioning and the like, making sure all was well. The clock read 8:05, and he left the garage for a moment. I sat on the pony alone, wondering if he intended to leave me here to suffer alone. It was his choice, but I was a little surprised.

I need not have worried. He returned after a few minutes with a chair, a beer and a few other items. He was settling in for the ride as well. The chair was placed directly in front of me, about 10 feet away, so he could observe. He sat down and took a drink of his beer.

My softer perineum flesh was becoming numb, with a dull ache. I pushed down on my legs, using the ankles where they were tied to the pony to help lift me. It helped a little but my legs were at such an odd angle, it was hard to stay up for long at all; it tended to push me forward more than up. When I relaxed and came back down my pubic bone pressed against the thin wood beam once again, this time more painfully. I must have made a noise, because Jason commented, "it must be beginning to hurt a little, I image. How are you doing?"

"I'm OK. It hurts some, it is hard to find a comfortable position. But it is bearable."

He took another swig of beer as I leaned back again, trying to take the weight off my pubic bone. The aching pain shifted with my weight to my vagina, then back to my perineum once again.

Jason laughed, "This is great. It almost looks like you are trying to hump the thing." He grinned at my discomfort and movements trying to find the best way to ride.

The clock said 8:10. Time was not passing quickly. I knew Jason had placed the clock there, where I could see it, as part of the torture. I could look and see the seconds tick by, and it would make the mental agony more severe. In fact, there was very little to see there except for Jason and the clock.

I pushed up on my legs again, trying to lift some of the weight off my groin. I succeeded but my muscles gave out after about 60 seconds. With my legs bent back and tied up to the pony it was too awkward a position to keep up for long. I was only able to get my pussy about a half inch off the pony but that was enough to provide some relief if even for a moment. I settled back down and rotated my hips forward, so that the pressure would concentrate more in my ass. At the same time I started to tip to the side and quickly regained my balance. My ankles secured to the side of the pony allowed me to keep myself upright, but it took a little effort.

Jason saw that I was struggling to stay upright. There was nothing too keep my upright, really, except for my own efforts and they were hampered by having my hands secured behind me. My legs were tied securely on either side of the pony, which allowed me to balance, but it was a constant struggle, my legs constantly twitching and pushing to keep upright. I think that Jason enjoyed this part of the show. Not only was I slowly moving my weight back and forth to displace the pressure between my legs, my legs were straining to lift myself and to keep my body from tipping over.

It was dawning on me that there were aspects to this torture that I had never envisioned. Depending on the position and the restraints, I was forced to shift, wriggle, strain and pull myself in various directions. By spending more and more effort to simply stay upright, my legs were losing the strength to lift me and relieve the pressure on my pussy.

The clock read 8:15. I had been riding for 15 minutes. The pain wasn't bad, but it was getting very persistent. I noticed that there were so many more aspects to the discomfort than I had ever imagined. It wasn't just the pressure against my flesh, it was the constant strain to stay upright, the constant strain to lift myself to relieve the pressure, the pain in my legs from the muscles constantly working, the shifting of the discomfort from one part of my crotch to the other...

I had some control within a 4 or 5 inch area; I could move the center of the pressure, but it was becoming clear this tactic was false relief. I was beginning to shift faster, moving forward, feeling the discomfort of my bone smashing my clit against the wood, then back, and feeling my ass/hip bones pressing my perineum and ass against the outside of the pony.

To my horror, I discovered that the wood, which was perhaps an inch and a half wide, was spreading my pussy lips wide, and driving deeper into my cunt. When I shifted back, my ass cheeks spread wide, and the thin board felt like it was trying to spread my anus as well.The firm unrelenting pressure was slowly wedging my body wider apart.

A gasp escaped my lips as I shifted forward again, and the pony spread my labia wide and pinched the lips against my legs, a new kind of discomfort resulting from the increasing penetration of my vaginal area.

It was beginning to throb now, pulsing and modulating. I think it was actually beginning to really hurt. It took on a sort of fire to it, not hot, but burning nonetheless. I leaned forward as far as I could, accepting the crunching pain of my pubic bone pressing my clit and flesh, smashing them and deforming them. I grunted, and moaned, a long, low moan of pain. But I had to stay there, accept the pain of that position in order to give my vagina and labia rest from the pinching and stretching.

Leaning forward like that, further and further each time, stretched my arms behind my back. My wrists were tied to the back of the pony. I was prevented from laying down, and moving too far forward simply stretched my arms out in back.

I remember thinking about this time, that this experiment was rapidly turning into a remarkable experience. The nuances of the pain were beginning and were unusual, the way it morphed and moved with me, how I could avoid one pain simply to invoke another... and each new pain was worse, was more, but if I shifted back to the lesser pain it would revitalize as a new level of agony...

The pain, which had begun in earnest now, was somewhat under my control. But the really evil, insidious part of this torture was how I had control over where it went. I could lean forward or backward, I could try shifting slightly left and right. Each shift gave relief to one area but resulting in discomfort in another.

Riding the pony was truly an ordeal of endurance.

The clock said 8:45.

It was hurting. Really hurting now. I realized I had not paid attention to Jason for some time, I had been concentrating on techniques to help shift and spread the pressure and discomfort. Now I sat, simply enduring the pain in my cunt, the board jammed between my labia, spreading them apart and hurting. I looked at Jason.

He had his pants down and his cock out. His hand idly slid up and down as he masturbated. Precum had lubricated his shaft, and his hand slid easily up and down. He looked really large and hard.

I rocked back a bit and felt the blood flood back into my clit. It made the pain worse there. I grunted a little and moaned, as Jason stroked his cock, enjoying my discomfort.

This went on for some time, until the clock said 9:00. I had been riding an hour, and Jason was still stroking his cock. I was in real pain now, with the sharp corners of the wood digging in, tearing my sensitive flesh slightly. I couldn't see, but I wondered if I might be bleeding. The pain had swathed the entire area of my hips.

My legs could hardly lift me now, it was all I could do to stay upright. My breasts felt heavy in front of me, urging me to lay down, pulling me to rest by laying on the pony in front of me. It seemed almost possible until I moved forward and felt the ropes which held my wrists pull taught. Damn.

Jason rose, and examined my pussy. "You aren't bleeding. I can see some bruising though. It must be pretty painful."

"Fuck," was all I could say.

"Can I help you a bit? Perhaps you would like me to stimulate you a bit?" Jason reached down, and as I leaned back slightly, his finger pressed under my pussy and found my clit. He moved it slowly in a circular motion which flooded my body and mind in new sensations.

"Yes... please... that is good."

I couldn't help it. I was a pain slut, I knew it. I was his pain slut, and I wanted to cum on that pony. He continued for a while. As my excitement grew, my hip movements began to thrust ever so slightly, my nipples hard. I was getting close to orgasm.

And he stopped.

"Fuck! You asshole!" I was frustrated beyond belief, not only trapped on this horrible device but he stopped before I orgasmed.

"That language is unbecoming someone in your... position," Jason said with a smile. "Perhaps we need some other way to help distract you during your ride."

He went over to his chair and picked something up. Nipple clamps. The kind with the pretty chain between them.

Standing next to me, he stroked my breasts, feeling their shape and lifting them slightly. Eventually, he concentrated on my nipples, which grew erect in spite of myself. He was in control of my body. As my left nipple was fully erect he took the first clamp and applied it.

"Ooowwww.... fuck, fuck, fuck... that fucking hurts..." I couldn't help it. I howled when the clamp closed on my sensitive flesh.

He stroked my right nipple to life in the same way. When it was ready for him, the clamp went on there, as well. I howled again.

Nipple clamps hurt like hell when they first go on, and then the pain slides into a numb ache. I have to admit, the clamps did actually distract me from the pain between my legs for a while. After he sat down, and started playing with his balls, it took a few minutes for me to concentrate on the pain between my legs once again.

The clock read 9:30.

Half way. It felt like it had been a lot longer. There is nothing, absolutely nothing to do while riding the pony except endure. I kept reminding myself that the pain was not as bad as other situations I had experienced. There had been a few canings that had hurt worse. There was a time when muscle cramps from a strappado had been agonizing.

The problem was, that riding the pony I knew that this pain was going to simply continue, constantly, for the next hour and a half. It was scheduled. It was to be endured, unceasing, unrelenting.

I realized after a bit that I was crying. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I wasn't sobbing, I had not lost that much control, but the pain was wearing on me. My leg muscles burned, my groin ached all the way through my hips, my shoulders even hurt a little from my wrists being tied behind me. I wanted this to be over, and I didn't want to wait.

Slime was leaking from my nose. My tears had dried on my cheeks and breasts, but snot was descending over my lip and into my mouth. There was nothing I could do about it. Uncontrolled body fluid emmision is one of the things I had learned to accept in periods of prolonged bondage.

I leaned as far forward as I could. Screw my arms, they hurt from being pulled back, but I had to shift the weight on my groin. Try as I might, I could not get myself far enough down for my breasts to touch the pony. I stayed in that position for a while before pulling on my wrists to straighten myself.

Jason was stroking himself faster. His cock was convulsing a little. I watched as he watched me, his eyes on my painful position, my tears, moans, and he came. He jerked and thrust his hips, and I saw his white cum spurt out and all over his stomach. It kept coming, urged on by his hand which continued sliding up and down as he stared at me, grunting and moaning from the effort of his orgasm.

It had happened before, but it always struck me as the most humiliating and degrading thing - to be reduced to a pain toy, to be bound and subjected to agony. My pain was a stimulant to him, something which brought him pleasure, and he took advantage of it, revelled in it, and used it to bring himself orgasms. I felt like a piece of meat. Meat in pain.

It was 10:15 when he came the second time. His stomach was still sticky from the first time, and my snot and tears had pooled on the wood of the pony before me, dripping down the sides and onto the floor. I had asked him to release me at 10:00. He had kissed me, and returned to his chair, explaining he knew I could do it.

The pain wasn't terrible. It felt pretty bad at the time, there was a lot of numbness and aching, but it was not pure agony. It was simply... wearing. Constant. Pain. It hurt. I wanted it to stop. The clock ticking, the slow shifting of pressure from my ass to my pussy... I wanted it to stop.

I peed as some point. While I had made sure I had emptied my bladder before starting the ride, it had been well over 2 hours and I was losing control of my body functions from tiredness and strain. I remember realizing I was peeing when it happened. There had been no decision to release my bladder, it just happened. The urine soaked the wood and pooled below me on the concrete floor of the garage.

It was cool in the garage, but I had been sweating. Sweat can really be irritating in bondage, because it trickles - it can cause itching, or tickling. And of course, there is nothing to do about it. Except endure. The wetness on the concrete below me was a collection of sweat, urine, snot and tears.

At 10:45, Jason came over, stroking my hair and praising me. Urging me on. I felt braver at that point, knowing it was almost over. And kindly, Jason reached down and began fondling my clit again. This time, he kept the circular movement going, pushing, sliding, gently but consistently, until I cried out and shuddered from a full, mind blowing orgasm.

When the clock hit 11:00, Jason untied the ropes which held my ankles up. I yelped just a bit, because my legs had been cramping and the cramps were suddenly worse when I extended them. My feet hit the floor, and lifted me off the damn pony. There was no immediate relief. The pain was still with me, haunting and embedded inside my damaged groin and ass.

My wrists were untied, and I put my arms around Jason, allowing him to help me swing my leg over the pony and stand next to it. I was shaky, and had to be helped to his chair, where I sipped his beer. It tasted so damn good.

In all of this, I had completely forgotted my nipple clamps. They hurt, but then when your whole body hurts, what's a little nipple clamp? Until you take it off, of course. It was the worst single moment of the evening, the screaming pain when the clamps were removed. Fortunately, it only lasted a few moments.

I bled slightly from the ordeal, my flesh having been stretched and torn slightly from my shifting and wriggling in place. There was bruising, some of it deep. My cunt hurt for several days after, deep down inside as well as the outside.

Jason rewarded me for the pony ride with a set of gorgeous diamond stud earrings. I wear them proudly.

I have since ridden the pony several more times since then, experiments using different equipment and positions. It is never pleasant, frequently agonizing. And yes, I really would rather not ride. It hurts.

Ghouls

2009-07-28T23:12:00.001-07:00

Paris was wonderful, as I had anticipated and planned. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Versailles… all the normally great tourist places that thrilled me and so many others. But we knew Paris held many other pleasures, not so obvious, not on the normal tourist agenda. I had spent some time searching for the underbelly of Parisian nightlife, the marginal society that many would rather pretend is not there but is famous in certain circles around the world.

The search was accomplished, and we were in contact with some of the best in the Paris underground BDSM scene. My reputation preceded me, or they would not have accepted me as they did. I was a tried and true submissive, with a taste for the macabre and extreme. Not to mention, young, pretty and goth.

I didn’t know what was to happen. In a way, I didn’t want to. A new experience, the unexpected, was what I yearned for and I hoped they could bring. Jason would be with me, and would abuse me as well as protect me, I knew. Otherwise, I was going to be helpless and subjected to experiences beyond what I had imagined at home.

My Paris BDSM dominants were Pierre, a tall, thin rather severe looking man with sandy hair and Jeannette, a cute girl about my height (5′6″) with dark hair trimmed at shoulder length. After several meetings, the time and place was set. Friday night, 8pm in a building on the left bank, a few km from the city center. I dressed in light cloth clothing, all black, with my laceup boots. It probably didn’t matter much how I dressed, the clothing was disposable anyway and would very likely not last long.

It was still hot from the summer day and I was glad my clothing was light as I entered the dingy building off the Boulevard Raspali. My eyes quickly grew used to the dim lighting and spotted the door at the end of the hall, as had been described to me. I strided up to the door, took a deep breath, and went it.

Jeanette was in a small sitting room inside, and rose to greet me, smiling. Pierre entered in moments. They offered me a bottle of water, which I took gratefully (the heat and humidity make one sweat a lot in Paris during the summer). They also urged me to eat something, which I did.

As I ate the bread and fruit they provided, I noticed my hands were shaking. I had not realized just how nervous I was. Both my dominants were recommended to me and had good reputations. I knew I was safe with them and that Jason would join us later, once my ordeal began. But then… what was truly safe? I had already given them permission to abuse me in ways that most would consider unsafe…

When I was finished, Pierre rose, and in a quiet but confident voice said, “Well, then… shall we get started?”

I rose, and bowed my head in a submissive posture. “Of course,” I agreed.

Jeanette produced a large leather item, which once it was unfolded I recognized as an armbinder. I hate those things. The tight ones, and this one looked tight, pulled your arms all the way in back of you, elbows touching. That gets pretty painful, with cramps and stretched muscles and a panicky feeling that you want to struggle out. Jeanette requested that I remove my top and any underclothing, which I did, removing and folding my top and bra. I was nude from the waist up.

Turning, I placed my arms behind my back, palms facing each other. Jeanette slid the binder on, and jerked it up into place. My hands were already squeezed together, immobile, as she began tightening the lacing which drew my upper arms together more and more painfully. After about 5 minutes, it was done, the lacing as tight as possible, and my arms felt the dull ache and my mind recognized the swelling panic that always came at the beginning of a scene – it was needed in order to reach my subspace.

My head still hung, my long black hair obscuring my face. Pierre reached down and slid my skirt off, and then my panties. I was naked except for the boots, and the armbinder twisted my body in a way that thrust my breasts out in front of me. I felt more exposed than usual, in front of these strangers, in a strange place.

I also realized I was wet with arousal and anticipation. My nipples were hard and I wanted to get going. I hadn’t come here for a scene that was as simple as an armbinder.

Pierre took my chin and raised it with his fingers, to make me look in his eyes. “Now… dear… this is essentially your last chance to back out. Once we put on your gag, you won’t be able to complain, and even if you did it would be too late. Decide now, confirm or deny. Are you ready to submit yourself to us completely?”

There were tears gathering in my eyes and I was shaking slightly as I looked at him. But in a strong voice, I declared “Let’s get this fucking thing over with. Do it.”

Pierre smiled, perhaps not a nice smile, and moments later a large ball gag was inserted and buckled tightly behind. A dog collar was placed around my neck, with a leash. They sat me down, unlaced and removed my boots.

Except for the binder, collar and gag, I was naked and exposed. It was fucking wonderful.

Then came the blindfold. Cloth covered my eyes, several times so that I could see nothing. I began drooling uncontrollably from the gag.

Using my leash, I was guided and tugged out of the room. We walked inside, not too far but I still did not know exactly where. A door was opened, and then another. The third door was opened with a key – it sounded like there was a hefty padlock involved. I felt a little stab of fear. Where ever they were taking me was deep in the bowels of the building, behind locked doors.

“Be careful. There are stairs,” Jeannette’s voice came, and my bare feet felt their way to the first step. I began a descent. Down a flight of wooden stairs, I felt the air grow musty around me. At the bottom of the stairs, I was led across a room with a stone floor. Another door was unlocked.

It occured to me that I was being led into the bowels of a dungeon, deep under a building. This must be what it felt like to be a political prisoner being led to a cell where they would be forgotted, to live the rest of their life in the dark. I shuddered.

The stone floor led to a second set of stairs. These were spiral stairs, and I went very slowly to keep from falling. The leash held a steady but not unbearable tug on my, assuring that I would continue to follow, but did not pull me so much that I lost my balance. Strangely, with my eyes covered, I didn’t feel quite as naked and exposed.

The staircase wound down, I had not counted steps, but it must have been 20 or 30 before I felt the air getting cooler. We were far below ground by now. I tried to say something through the gag… where were we? How deep were we going? What was this? Even if my grunting mumbling could have been understood, my tops were not going to answer.

As the steps went deeper, I became more and more frightened. This was no sub-basement. This staircase was twisting down into a cave or sewer… in face I could not imagine the sewer system was this deep.

I stumbled, and felt Pierre’s strong hands grab me and keep me upright. We continued.

Finally… we arrived at the bottom. The hair was cool and moist. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, shaking slightly from nerves and from the cold. We were deep. Mine shaft deep. Below anything of the city, below basements and subways and sewers. I had never felt so isolated and vulnerable.

A yank of the leash and we started off again. The hard packed earth floor felt like rock, and there was quite a bit of loose rock or gravel that made it very hard to walk in bare feet. I yelped from beneath my gag more than once as I danced and pranced over sharp stones. The leashed tugged, always moving me along, unyielding now and pressing me forward. It was clear that my discomfort was no longer a concern.

After a few minutes of walking and making several turns, we stopped. My blindfold was removed. I blinked tears from my eyes and tried to focus. The light was very dim, but there was more than under the blindfold.

My eyes grew wide, as my mind took in the dim rock walls of a narrow passage. The only light was from the two flashlights that my minders carried. Just in front of us was a stone door frame that had an inscription above. I read “Arrète, c’est ici l’empire des Morts“. Not reading much French didn’t stop me from realizing that it was a warning that we were about to enter the Empire of the Dead.

I turned, and bolted away, down the corridor. Or at least I tried. I think I got all of 3 feet before the leash jerked me painfully to a halt and I fell backward, hard, on my ass and back. I wriggled on the floor for a bit, my armbinder making it impossible to get up again. Finally, I stopped and just panted beneath the gag.

The leash was pulled and I was helped up by the support of my collar yanking on my neck. These doms were serious. Once we had entered the caves, they had shown little mercy. I was fucked. It was exactly what I had been seeking.

Once on my feet, Jeanette (who was little more than a sexy silhouette in front of me now) pulled my leash and guided through the stone door. We walked for another 10 minutes or so, making several turns and I realized how foolish it was for me to have tried escape. There was no way I would have ever found my way out of the maze below.

My body was shaking both from fear and cold. This deep, it was quite cold, and water dripped from the ceiling onto my bare flesh. My feet were bleeding from the gravel on the floor, though I had no time to stop and examine them. My chin, neck and breasts were wet from my constant drooling brought on by the gag. My shoulders and arms were aching terribly from the tight bondage of the binder. My neck was sore from having my collar jerked. None of this compared to the fear and apprehension I had as we walked on.

Through another heavy stone portal. The sight that awaited me on the other side was enough to almost make me faint.

Bones were stacked along the walls of a roughly square chamber. Human bones. Femurs, hips, skulls, fingers, ribs… stacked neatly and tightly. Empty eye sockets stared at me. Dozens of them, and then as we walked on, hundreds and then thousands of them. An army had been buried here, or perhaps a whole city. Bones were everywhere, most stacked neatly, some shattered and spread around.

Two more chambers of bones and we reached a chamber that had several lit candles flickering and lighting the bones. Pierre and Jeanette turned off their flashlights. The room was plunged into candlelight that made it look as if it were filled with ghosts, moving ones in the shape of skeletons. They danced and pranced across the ceiling and walls, and grinned and then faded from view.

I fell to my knees and began sobbing. My gag prevented me from saying anything, and I had no words. Just fear. Just a vague, ghostly, undefined sense of fear. This place was where I was to be humiliated, tortured, tormented. There, with the dead surrounding me and taunting me for defiling their abode.

Pierre attached a rope to the end of the armbinder, which he then threw up and over a heavy stone beam above us. He pulled the rope taught, lifting me from my kneeling position as my arms rose behind me, pulling and stressing the muscles in my shoulders. I cried out in pain, begged for release from behind the gag, but the rope was pulled farther until my arms rose behind me and I was bent over at an angle. He tied the rope off on a metal hook embedded in the stone wall.

There were five candles lighting this chamber of horror. One by one, Jeanette blew them out. The dark slowly descended, until there was only one candle left alight. It was dim, enough to see the basic shape of the room and the horrible skeletons surrounding me. It flickered dangerously, as if it might go out at any moment, and in the flicker, the skulls laughed at me…

Jeanette came over to me, no longer the petite, cute goth girl I had submitted to an hour or so before. Instead, she appeared a dark priestess of the dead, all in black, blending in with the dark corridor behind her, just the dim outline of her face and eyes before me. With a slow, deliberate movement, she removed the gag.

She leaned forward and kissed me, deeply.

I don’t know how I did it, but I kissed back. She tasted good, and her taste seemed a tiny bit of the real world to me. I wanted that taste I wanted real flesh and blood, something alive and vibrant and warm to touch me and fondle me.

And touch me she did. As she prolonged our kiss, her hand slipped over my hips and between my legs. Her finger slid between my pussy lips, and I was amazed to realize I was wet! She slipped inside with almost no effort, and then back out, sliding over my clit in the process. Her lips and tongue withdrew from me and was replaced by her finger, which I suckled briefly. I tasted my juices on her, and realized that as afraid as I was, and as much pain I was in, I was still very aroused and getting off on this experience.

Her finger slid out of my mouth, and she moved back, away from me, and down the black corridor.

I screamed.

She had left me alone. I was suspended in a strappado position in this cavern of the dead, naked and shivering, with only a single candle for light, and she had left me alone.

Then the candle went 0ut.

I screamed again, terrified. The dark surrounded me like a suffocating blanket, creating a claustrophobia I had never felt before. I struggled in my armbinder, but all it did was cause more cramps. My screams continued, echoing, coming back to me in repition. I heard myself, the panic and pleading in my screams. The dead were taunting me once again, screaming back at me, screaming their own pain and inviting me to join them.

Finally, the screams subsided and gave way to tears. I cried for a while, feeling the wetness on my cheeks trickle and then drop from my chin to join the water from the ceiling drips, where they gathered to make the floor slightly muddy.

In that absolute darkness and silence, there was nothing in the world but me and my pain. The strict armbinder had made parts of my arms numb, but the pain in my shoulders was increasing and spreading across my back and chest. I stood on tiptoe to relieve a little of the pressure, but not much helped.

There was nothing in the world but the pain. No sound but my own breathing and the occasional drip of the ceiling. No light to see. Nothing to touch and feel. Just pain in my body, and that pain spread through my mind, occupying it. It became my friend and enemy. It became my life, as I hung there in the dark.

In the silence, I began to hear things. Whispers, small sounds. I thought they might be real, but couldn’t tell. They were bizarre. Silent laughter… course breathing… the sounds of tiny footsteps and shuffling gravel. Cries of a woman being held captive in the caverns… no, that was me. I was hearing myself.

There were ghosts here, I could see them. Flickering white that just skimmed the surface of consciousness. I could feel them at times, brushing against my flesh with an ice cold chill that disappeared as quickly as it came. Sounds which flirted with the edge of my awareness, moans or calls that I could not tell were real or not.

And then there was a noise which was clear, and I knew was real. A sigh.

“Who’s there? Who? For god sake, speak to me!” I almost screamed in a panicked voice.

“One who has waited long for you to speak to me,” came the voice. It was soft and had no echo, though it was loud compared to the silence that surrounded it.

“Who? What? Please… can you release me? I am dying… my arms… they hurt. I need to see light. I am seeing ghosts, can you help me, please…” I begged.

“Of course, I can help you. I can bring you back to the world of the living. But there is a price.”

“Please… please… anything. What do you want?”

The voice was silent for a while, and then spoke in a thoughtful, slow manner as if the speaker was discovering what he was saying as he said it, with eyes closed in contemplation.

“Be careful what you wish for. Do not say anything unless you mean it. You do have a choice you know… to stay here with the dead, face your sentence in the dark until your body is discovered, alive or dead, or perhaps simply… driven insane.”

After a moment of silence he spoke again. “Or, you can turn yourself over to us, the ghouls of the catacombs. We will torture you, yes… was this not what you sought in coming here? We will pleasure ourselves with you, and perhaps you will feel some of the pleasure as well? Pleasure mixed with pain, perhaps even pain becoming pleasure. You will not die, and it will keep you sane.”

Whoever this guy was he creeped me out. But my mind had been fucked with so badly, hanging painfully in the dark surrounded by the ghosts, deep underground. I truly thought that becoming the torture plaything of some ghoul was better than remaining suspended there in the dark and silence for days.

“Yes, yes. I understand. Please… just… how?”

“Do you? Do you understand? To experience pain, and pleasure. Delight in your body, and allow others to delight in it? To allow others to delight in the giving of pain, and pleasure, and sensation? To give your living body for the pleasure of the dead?”

I begged now, “Oh please, yes… anything, just to see and hear and feel, I don’t want to be alone in this place. I am already in pain, I have that, add pleasure and all the rest. I want to be part of the world again! I don’t want to be dead any more!”

Waiting now in the silence, holding my breath.

The faint touch of the ghost on my right thigh, a cold stroke that slid up my inner thigh. I screamed as I realized it was real, there was something behind me that was touching me, sliding upward toward my sex with cold flesh. I jerked away from the touch momentarily, but it followed me, and this time slid further up, hardly stopping at the entrance to my pussy. Instead it pushed in, and slid deeper.

It was wet, or I was wet, or we both were. It was cold, I knew that. And it was inside me, and suddenly thrust deep within me. The ghoul was fucking me. At first I had thought it was touching me with fingers, but this was too large, too straight, too deep inside me. I was bent over and fairly immobile because of the strappado. Having been fucked in this position many times before I knew just how exposed an angle I was in, and that I would have to endure the rape from whatever was plunging inside me.

Each thrust pushed my body forward slightly, jerking the armbinder that was raised behind me. Each thrust brought new twists in my muscles and grunts pain. Each thrust felt deeper and more satisfying and began to make good on its promise of mixing pleasure with pain. I felt the stirrings of a climax within.

The rape stopped as I orgasmed. I shuddered and cried out as the flood of pleasure covered my body. Still rock hard, the member withdrew from me and rejoined the enveloping black stillness. I heard my breathing, panting and slightly moaning from the effort I expended in keeping my position to reduce the pain in my shoulders and assist the penetration to bring my own climax.

Simultaneous with the sound of quick scratching, a tiny flame was lit before me. A match flame shimmered in the chamber, once again revealing the human decay that surrounded me. A tiny light, but in that complete darkness it seemed to light up the whole world. It revealed a black shadowed figure that held the match in its hand, and slowly touched it to a candle, and then a second and third candle perched on the walls.

I almost cried in delight. Being fucked had brought me out of my head and back into the real world, such as it was. The light now, was like a cool drink in the heat of summer.

The figure moved away; out of my range of vision. The rope that held my arms high behind me was suddenly released, and I fell to the ground, the cramping in my shoulders once again making me cry out. I lay on my side, slightly curled, my arms still bound behind. Rough hands raised me up and began unlacing the binder. As the tension slowly faded and my muscles contracted into place, the pain kept flooding over me in waves. I moaned, cried, at one point screamed when my arms were released.

My cries seemed to arouse the two dark figures. Their hands roamed over my body, feeling my ribs as I breath, the contractions of my stomach as I screamed, my shoulders as the pain flooded through them once more.

Ropes were tied tightly to my wrists, and my arms stretched out to either side. The stretching hurt terribly as my damaged muscles moved into new positions, pulled taught to either side and above me. Pulling higher and higher, the ropes finally lifted me off the floor until I stood on my toes, hanging by my wrists.

Ropes applied to my ankles, stretched wide, and in seconds I was hanging spread-eagled from my wrists, legs wide apart, struggling for breath from the labor of making my stretched diaphragm press my lungs and suck air in and out. Every muscle in my body, every joint, seemed to be straining to keep me from falling apart.

There were three dark figures now. They moved with purpose in the dim light, and then disappeared. I hung above the ground, waiting for whatever would happen next. It came without warning.

With a hiss and a snap, the flesh of my back and stomach burst into flames of pain. I screamed and struggled, trying to get free from whatever had just torn my flesh. It was to no avail, the whistling hiss of a whip came a split second before my body screamed to life with pain once again.

I didn’t count the strokes. Perhaps 10, maybe 15. Enough to make me wonder if my flesh was going to start peeling off. I knew that in times long ago a severe whipping could be use to flay the flesh off a prisoner. It was possible, and I had no idea how close I was to that fate. When the whipping stopped, I hung with my head down over my chest, long hair stuck to the sweat that covered my breasts. I observed the red welts that covered my sides and stomach, a few of them licking my breasts angrily.

A black figure, a woman I am certain from her hands and the way she carried herself, appeared before me. Her fingers gently pinched and stroked my left nipple, caressing it to erection. Once it was hard and ready for her, it was rewarded with a nipple clamp. It hurt like hell. The same was done to my right nipple, the pleasure erecting the nipple, making it ready for the pain. How symbolic of this entire ordeal.

The girl returned and reached up to kiss me. I returned the kiss, eager to please and to try to mix the pain with some pleasure. It was a good kiss, wet and her tongue felt alive and tasted of mint; not like a ghoul at all.

She then produced an object, and raised it to my face.

“Kissss….” she said.

I didn’t realize what it was at first, and as soon as I did I gagged on rising vomit. She held a skull in front of my face, its jaw slightly open, empty eyes looking at me expectantly.

“KISS… make love to the queen of the dead!”

I tried, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I turned my head away.

The skull was removed, and another ghoul appeared before me. A weight was added to my left nipple clamp. Not just one of those small teaser weights most people use to look sexy. This was a 5 pound piece of shot that dragged my boob down, elongating it and hurting like hell. The nipple had become numb from loss of blood, this brought back all the pain of the newly applied clamp and added new dimensions. A weight was added to my right breast with similar results. Fuck, I was in more pain than I had experienced in… well, forever, as far as I could tell. Stretched out, suspended, nipple clamps, weights…

The skull was presented again. This time, I tried harder, and my lips touched the grinning mouth opening which remained. Teeth were gone, and the skull was slightly sharp where they had once been. The feeling of the bone on my lips made me gag again, and I withdrew quickly.

The skull was thrust again, and the girl demanded “KISS, kiss her as you did me…”

Oh, god. They wanted me to do a deep tongue kiss to this skull. Fuck. I gagged on bile again, and turned my head.

Pussy clamps this time. My labia was stretched down, and the clamps applied easily as my legs were spread. The clamps hurt almost as badly as the nipple clamps, except… they almost immediately added weights. Shit, shit, I cried out for mercy as my pussy seemed to be dragging out of my body. How much pain could I take? I screamed loudly, and listened to my voice, crying for mercy, echoing down the corridors to emptiness.

No one would come, no one would rescue me.

The skull was presented to my face again. Once again I kissed, opening my mouth and extending my tongue. The skull pressed against my face in a ghastly imitation of a deep romantic kiss, moving side to side, encouraging my tongue to slide against bone and lick the inside of the skull. It tasted strange, of dirt and dust and iron and decay and other things I could not identify.

The interior of the skull had an odd texture, like hardened wood or concrete but more fragile. As my tongue and lips slid around the outside and inside of the dry bone my saliva smeared and was absorbed by the porous bone. I felt the upper pallet and jaw of the skull, opened my mouth wide as if I expected a skeletal tongue tongue to reach into my own mouth, and continued to lick and kiss the horrible remnant of humanity forced against my lips.

The ghastly make-out session ended, at last, and the skull was withdrawn. My tongue and mouth tasted filthy; and I discovered that the aftertaste left by human bone is slightly moldy.

How long I had been deep below ground in this realm of the dead I had no idea, but I did know I was dying of thirst. I begged in a surprisingly croaking voice, “Please… water… may I have water?”

The response was immediate, and water was brought to me in a large bowl held to my lips to sip. I began to drink eagerly, and then a familiar flavor entered my consciousness, and the shape of the bowl struck me….

I vomited over the skull bowl that held the water. The puke went over my breasts and stomach, into the bowl, my stomach contracting and heaving as best it could given my frame was stretched out tightly in the spread eagle. I couldn’t help it. I needed the water, I knew drinking it was the only way I would get any, but it had come as such a shock that I was drinking from the remains of the hardened brain casing of a long dead person…

More water was brought, and the puke was washed from my naked body. I drank the water this time, able to get it down with only a slight gag. Necessity is the mother of tolerance. I think I drank four or five skull fulls of water, I was so thirsty.

As all this was going on, the original three ghouls had been joined by a fourth. There were now two males and two females. I was certain that one pair were Pierre and Jeanette, the couple that had originally bound me and brought me below. The other two I could not see clearly, though the girl appeared to have long dark hair and was taller and slimmer than Jeanette.

They approached my sagging body hanging from the ropes once again, and this time their hands extended and began a slow but increasingly probing examination of my body. Fingers slid up my spread legs, tenderly or firmly depending on the hand; tongues licked my neck, lips suckled my agonized pinched nipples. My breasts were lifted, along with the weights attached to them, and then allowed to drop painfully. My ass cheeks were spread, and fingers probed in the crack.

Hands ran up my inner thighs, and eventually spread and examined the folds of flesh between them. Slowly but certainly, fingers delved deeper into my pussy. How many fingers I could not tell, they were attached to more than one hand and more than one person, but I know it quickly went from two fingers to three, and then four. Before long I had five fingers pressing into my vagina, actively spreading my flesh apart. It began to hurt, the stretching and tearing feeling as my pussy was forcibly widened.

The labia clamps were removed. The blood and sensation rushing back into that sensitive area made me gasp and clench my muscles. My labia, free of the clamps, continued to be stretched wide, wider than every before.

At the same time, a finger had made its way deep into my anus. I could feel it wiggling around, actually pressing against the fingers in my vagina. My sphincter was clenching, instinctively squeezing it trying to prevent further intrusion into my bowels. It didn’t work and in fact just made things worse, as a second finger forced its way into my unlubricated ass. The two fingers, from different people I was certain, worked together to pulled, massage, stretch and force open my anus wider. A third and fourth fingers were added, and my ass was being painfully and forcefully stretched open.

In the meantime the fingers in my vagina had inserted all the way to a hand; I could feel my flesh being torn wide and the knuckles of a fist entering me. Fingers pressed against my cervix, and I grunted and moaned in pain as I was fisted. Deeper it went, until I felt like I was giving birth, cramps set in, my cervix was being pressed up into my intestines and the pain of distended flesh was making my cry in great sobs.

The double fisting was more intrusion than my body had ever suffered. And somehow… this extreme intrusion felt as arousing as it was painful. I sobbed in pain, but at the same time began rocking my hips back and forth slightly, creating a sort of rhythm which was soon picked up by the probing hands. Forward and down, the hand pressed into my vagina and against my cervix, rubbing against my clit. Shifting back, the hand in my ass sliding in and filling my bowls. Slight movements, but enough to make the experience increasingly erotic for me, and with the cooperation of the corporeal invaders whose hands were now inside my body, I was headed for another massive orgasm.

When it did come, I tried to scream with the climax which surged through my body. I found that it was difficult, stretched and hung as I was my body was not able to take deep breaths and my scream was more of a loud moaning gurgle. When it was over, the hands slowly relaxed and edged their way out as the ghouls licked and kissed various parts of my exposed body.

Hanging from my outstretched arms was taking its toll, and my breathing had become ragged. My arms were becoming numb as well as my shoulders, and I could no longer move my fingers. I was more than glad when the ropes tied to my wrists were slowly released, and I descended back down to the floor. Descended may be too nice a word, for when my feet hit the ground, my legs buckled and I fell to the ground and lay there, unable to move except for a little twitching. It felt so good to be down, and resting in a prone position.

I lay on the dirt floor for a while, unwilling to even try moving. When I finally did move, it was because two of the dark figures stood over me, reached down and took my arms to lift me up. I still could not see their faces well, though I could tell these were the two guys. They half dragged me out of the chamber, down a short stone corridor and into another chamber which was larger than the last. Bones lined this chamber as well, fashioned in curious designs against the wall. There was a single stone bench or table in the center of the room, and I was placed on this, on my back.

My ankles were spread wide, as were my wrists. Each were tied to something (a ring or hook) that appeared at the base of the stone table. Thus, I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, my arms and legs spread apart once again and tied back and behind me. The ceiling above was hard to make out; the flickering candle light showed curious patterns and cracks in the stone, as well as dark markings. Above me, silhouetted against the flickering candle light, the four figures looked down at me.

The clamps on my nipples were released, once again bringing stinging, searing pain. I gasped and one of the dark figured reached down and massaged my nipples, bringing the blood flow back in and making them erect at the same time.

One of them spoke, and I believe it was Jeanette, though the voice seemed softer than before, and more hollow than a human voice should be.

“You are making good progress. You may be able to return to the land of the living, if you survive the next few hours. For now, rest. Sleep if you can.”

Survive???? I thought. Was there some question as to whether I would survive this???

The four figures disappeared, fading into the shadows and leaving me with a single candle that provided just barely enough light to see the outlines of the walls and ceiling. I lay, unable to move because of my bindings.

Drip.

The ceiling above me discharged a drop of water that splatted on my face. I turned my head.

Drip.

Another large drop, on my cheek.

Drip. Drop.

Two drops of water, one right after the other, in slightly different locations on my face.

Nothing for a while, and then, without warning:

Drip.

The ceiling was dripping on me. I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth, trying to catch the water to drink. It was coming too slowly to be satisfying, but I tried for a while.

The drops of water came at irregular intervals. I never knew when. I tried counting – somewhere between 3 to 30 seconds… I moved my head, so the drops would strike different areas of my face.

Drip

I didn’t hurt any more… my body was feeling much better, having been able to rest and lay down. But I couldn’t sleep – the dripping water was keeping me awake. I tried to think of sheep… they turned into drops of water… I tried counting them… then gave up on that.

Exhaustion came over me, and I drifted to sleep for a while… but the dripping awakened me. I shifted my head, moving it out of the way of the drips as best I could. The water struck my neck just below my ear… tolerable for a time. I slept again, spread out on the stone altar in the city of the dead.

Drip. Drip…. Drip…. Drop.

I woke struggling and screaming. The dripping water had caused a numb place on my cheek. Or was it numb? Perhaps it was actually more sensitive. I couldn’t tell. What I knew was that the constant drip was filling my world, occupying my mind with a hideous monotony.

You see, part of the agony was the constant drip on my face, the way it felt like a violation of my personal space as I was unable to fend it off as it steadily ate away at my flesh. Another part of the agony was that the drips were not regular; they pretended to be regular and in a pattern. This deceived the mind, following false trails and patterns much like a lost hiker finds lost trails in a forest that when followed, disappear having lead the hiker deeper into the wilderness.

But most agonizing of all, was that this drip was all there was in the world. There was no sound, no real light, no other sensation but this dripping water. It dripped and literally became all I could think about. How much water was there? When would the next drop come and where would it land? Was it hurting me? I was slowly, but surely, going insane.

I screamed from frustration, and struggled against the bonds; arms and legs straining to be free to no avail. My legs were held wide apart, my arms pulled back and down to where they were tied to the legs of this stone platform. I pulled a muscle slightly, and the pain shocked me. But it also diverted me, and had a kind of sweetness to it. It was a sensation I could concentrate on instead of the drip…drop….drip…

I cried, my tears descending my cheeks and mixing with the water dripping on my face. I could hear someone talking to me, and tried to answer, but it was my own voice. I tried to allow the water to pierce my flesh and kill me, I pleaded with it to kill me… I struggled against my bonds once more.

In the dim flicker of the single candle, a darkness appeared. At first I didn’t think it was real, I had been hallucinating objects for a while. But when the figure spoke in its low, calm but raspy voice, I knew it was real.

“Do you wish release from the water which plagues you?”

“Yes, please, please, release me, kill me, whatever you need to do but take me from this place, from this horrible… ” I don’t know exactly what I said. Some of it was gibberish I am sure.

The figure asked again, “Do you wish me to cover your face to shield you from the dripping water?”

“Yessss…..” I croaked…. and then started sobbing.

My head was lifted slightly, and my hair stroked down and into place. Then something was pulled down over the top of my head, and then over my face. It was made of a heavy cloth or soft leather, and adhered tightly to the shape of my head. It covered my head and face completely, all the way to my neck. Had I been more lucid at the time, I would have realized I had just been placed in a hood.

The hood was tightened. It had no eye holes, so I could not see. It had no mouth opening, so I could not breath through my mouth, though I was not gagged and could make noises. It also did not have any nose holes to allow breathing. I quickly started sucking air in as hard as I could, drawing fresh oxygen from the opening at the bottom of the hood around my neck, and a little through the porous material of the hood itself. Breathing was increasingly labored. I could hear myself gasping, and my chest and stomach began heaving heavily to pull as much air in as possible.

The relief from the water torture was not a relief at all. The hood removed all but a small part of my ability to breath, forcing me to work at sucking air in as hard as I possibly could. But there was worse. As the water from above dripped on the hood, the material became wet and lost its porousness, as well as adhering closely to my flesh. Breathing, difficult before, became impossible. My lungs burned from lack of air, my stomach convulsed in attempts to breath… all to no avail.

My brain became light headed, the world seemed to be turning around me. I shook my head violently from side to side in a futile effort to find air, an opening, or to shake off the hood. Black spots, blacker than the inside of the hood, appeared before my eyes. My arms and legs hurt with a deep ache, my head pounded, and I felt consciousness slipping away.

Just as unconsciousness began to take hold, the hood was slipped up and over my head. All four dark figures floated over me as I gasped and sucked air into my lungs, in huge gulps. My panicked breathing lasted for a couple of minutes and then subsided as the oxygen spread through my body.

Jeanette, lovely Jeanette leaned down and stroked the hair from my face, cleaning the sweat and wetness from my skin. She kissed my forehead, and whispered to me. “You are suffering for us so marvelously… you should be proud of your pain.”

I nodded. I understood.

The ropes around my legs and arms which held me to the altar were untied, and I was raised up. I noticed for the first time in a while that I was naked. I had forgotten this a long time ago… years ago it seemed. I was lead to a circular pile of bones in the center of the room. Piled 6 feet high, these bones radiated out from a central pillar to form a large cylindrical bond pile. The ropes dangling from my arms were wrapped around the pile of bones, drawing me into them, forcing me against them. I was tied to the bone pile, facing it. Sharp edges poked my ribs and breasts, smoothed joints rubbed my bare nipples. I could smell them clearly, as my face was only inches away.

I struggled briefly, and then simply stood.

The flickering light from candles showed shadows on the walls as my torturers moved behind me. The bones poked and prodded my bare flesh before me, but I felt very exposed behind, waiting for something. When it came, it was unexpected, heralded by a split second sound like a whistle; something moving through the air.

My ass exploded in pain from a cane which stroked across it. I grunted, and moaned from the sting. A second stroke was inflicted just above the last. A third struck my ass and I felt myself wriggling against the bones, trying to get away. Where ever I moved, the cane found me, striping me with more stinging pain that eventually forced cries and tears from me.

The strokes stopped, and a soft smooth hand felt the roundness of my ass, sliding down and separating the cheeks until fingers reached and played with my pussy lips. I spread my legs a little to allow them access, and was rewarded by a brief penetration. Too brief, as the fingers were withdrawn and the cane struck again.

Repeated strokes in the same area increase the pain, one stroke building on another, and my ass was burning like it was on fire. When a break came and my ass and pussy were fondled, the hand felt like it was salty, causing even more pain over the sensitive welts. Until, that is, it would reach down to my wet pussy, stimulate me there and find the reaction that was wanted – my ass pushed backward, legs spread, begging for pleasure.

This alternation of pleasure and pain went on for some time, until I thought I would simply not be able to stand the constant beating on my ass. I screamed with each stroke, my hands gripped the bones in front of me and I pressed against them, trying to escape the burning fire of the cane. Finally, the punishment stopped, and I sagged in place, leaning against the stack of bones against which I was tied.

After some time, I was untied. I was barely able to stand on my own, and was led to a third chamber of bones, this one with skulls circling the top, staring down as if looking at my nakedness with lust. Forced to my knees, my hands were taken behind my back and then forced up to an inverted position – the infamous reverse prayer. I had been in this position before, and knew I was flexible enough for it. I also knew that it would quickly become very uncomfortable. My hands and arms were forced up further, and then wrists tied in place. The arms and elbows were also quickly tied, making my arms totally immobile with my hands pressed together just between my shoulder blades.

I was lifted to a small stone platform, and placed on my stomach there. My legs hung over the end, and rough hands spread them wide. There was no point in wriggling, the twisted position of my arms behind my back meant any movement would be painful and impossible.

A cold sticky substance was inserted into my pussy. Lube. Moments later a cock was thrust into me deeply, sliding in easily. I didn’t know which of the two men it was, and it didn’t matter. It felt good to have some straight sex, no weird stuff. His pounding picked up rhythm just as someone stood in front of me, pinched my mouth open and slid in another cock.

Fucked from both ends. It felt good. Probably the most normal and natural thing to happen during this whole ordeal. I eagerly wriggled to try and get my clit stimulated a little with the fucking, and sucked in the rather large cock from the front, as deep down my throat as I could manage. Closing my eyes, I could almost imagine I was back at home, in my own bedroom with Jason and Steve…

The guy behind me thrust and suddenly pressed hard, his hips held against my ass, his hands around my hips holding them tight, his balls flat against my pussy. His cock throbbed inside me as he came, jerking and grunting, a flood of sperm ejaculated inside my abdomen. His orgasm lasted forever, just when I though he was done and slipping out he thrust again and renewed his efforts to empy himself inside me.

All the while the guy in front of me was pushing deeper down my throat, ignoring my gags and gasps as I tried to breath and also keep my vomit down. I do a pretty good deep throat, but this guy was as big as Jason, and he was pushing hard, getting in as far as he could. Slime from my stomach had coated his cock, making it slippery and bad tasting, but I kept on, determined I would bring him to an explosive orgasm.

He did explode, withdrawing at the last moment and ejaculatig all over my face. I felt sperm slap against my cheeks, eyes, mouth, even my hair. I was covered, smeared with the stuff. The sounds he made sounded like Jason having the most incredible orgasm he had ever had, grunting and swearing as the endorphins flooded his body and his contractions took control from him in l’Petite Mort… as the French call orgasm.

When it was over, I found myself servicing the girls. Flipped over onto my back, I lay on top of my arms. This was extremely painful, as they were still tied in the reverse prayer position, and pressing on them stretched the muscles further. I whimpered, begging for a better position.

In response, one of the girls slid over my face, spreading her legs and lowering her pussy. As her soft and incredibly wet flesh enveloped my nose, I started lapping. She was facing toward my body, so my nose slid up her vagina, and my tongue and lips naturally worked on her clit. Pressing down hard, I could not breath, her flesh covering and smothering me. My stomach worked for breath, diaphragm jerking in agony as I licked and prodded her.

The only relief came as she rose and shifted position slightly, positioning her ass over my nose. Pressing down, my nose penetrated her anus, which she wriggled to increase her sensation. My tongue was now in her vagina, licking hard, and my lower lip slid easily over her clit. With repeated, jerky motions, she slid back and forth, up and down, demanding more of me as I tried to gasp for what air I could, knowing my only real relief would come when once she climaxed.

I was near to passing out once again when she finally came, her thighs clenching my head, her hair hanging down and brushing my stomach. She cried out in pleasure, pressing down with one last thrust onto my face, and then collapsed, leaving me to breathe freely at last.

The final girl took her place, and as I stroked her, I felt the same hard, cold, wet cock I had felt penetrate me earlier. A dildo, I knew. She held it in her hand, and shoved it inside me as I licked and sucked her clit. She was gaining as much pleasure from raping me with the dildo as she was from my sucking her pussy.

She shifted position, and I saw the dildo for the first time. I cried out, only to have my cries stifled by her pussy pressing on my mouth.

The dildo was a bone, an arm bone, prehaps a radius or ulna. It was shiny and smooth with wear. It slid into my overly lubricated cunt with no effort, and as she pleasured herself on my face, she raped me with the remains of a corpse.

She orgasmed faster than the first girl, thank goodness. Climbing off of me, she also took the horrible dildo away, and I lay gasping. My face, neck and breasts were covered with human body fluids of one sort or another. Between my legs was soaked with my own juices, as well as the semen from Pierre.

The pain in my back and arms was getting excrutiating, and I rolled over onto my stomach on my own and promptly fell from the stone bench onto the dirt floor. I lay there for a little while before they came to me, lifted me up to my feet.

“You suffer so well for us… I wish to see you suffer the indignity of execution,” whispered a dark, hoarse voice.

“No, please, please… I can’t take any more! Please, will you release me, I don’t want to die!”

One of the dark figures I recongized as Pierre stood in front of me with the girl I did not know, the one with the bone dildo. The smile at me, smirking as I pleaded with them.

A shadow warned me, a shadow on the wall terrified me, I tried to run but was too late. The heavy rope noose descended around my neck, and tightened as I struggled to move away.

With a slow, deliberately slow tension, the rope was pulled higher. I moved back under the place where it hung in order to reduce tension on my neck. The rope became more taught, cutting off blood flow. I gurgled in an attempt to breathe, and raised myself on tiptoes.

There the noose stayed, as I danced a little dance on tiptoe, trying to stay still but relieve as much pressure on my neck as possible. My head was twisted sideways from the pressure and angle of the noose, in a position I recognized from having seen people that had been hung. The strain on my neck was tremendous. I could breathe, but just barely.

At that point I lost bladder control, urinating on the floor and my legs. As if this was a signal, the rope tightened further, and I was lifted off the floor. My legs dangled and kicked involuntarily, as if they might find something to stand on. No air reached my lungs. My eyes were bulging as if they would be forced from their sockets and my tongue was protruding from my mouth. All these things I observed with perfect clarity; and all these things I could do nothing about. I was hanging, strangling, soiling myself, dying in this tomb.

The heavy weight of my body seemed incredible as it was all placed on my neck, squeezing the life from me.

All went black, as I lost consciousness.

The next day, I sat in the salon of the house which contained the hidden entrance to the catacombs. I was clean, rested, showered, fed and watered. My entire body was sore, from my toes to my neck (especially my neck). In spite of this I felt more alive and vibrant than I had in years.

With me sat Jason, Pierre, Jeannette and Cecile. We were enjoying a last time together, reliving the weekend below the ground in the catacomb tomb of Paris.

“You really did well, one of the best I have ever seen. I thought for sure you were going to use the safe word at some point. I am proud of you,” Pierre was saying.

“Safe word? You didn’t give me a safe word.” I looked puzzled as I drank my glass of wine.

“Sure we did. You gave it to her, right Jeannette?”

Jeanette looked a little surprised. “No… you did. Didn’t you?”

As Jeanette and Pierre looked at each other in growing realization, I commented, “Well that was interesting…”

Cuckold

2009-07-11T13:45:00.001-07:00

For the first weeks after our wedding, Jason and I had a fairly closed home life. Getting used to being a slave, treated as an object (although a loved object), combined with many of the rituals, punishments and suffering I was subject to, made having guests over difficult. This changed with the invitation we extended to our next door neighbors to visit for a nice, quiet dinner.

Jim and Erin had influenced us in our approach to marriage. They had a dominant/submissive relationship, with Jim taking a completely submissive role to Erin. Their somewhat kinky relationship was for the most part kept under cover, but Jason and I were aware of it and had been exposed to some of its details when visiting in the past.

Erin is a petite brunette of about 32 years old, Jim a medium height, strong build man of 35. Both are very attractive, and Jason and I had speculated about the possibility of doing something sexual with them. The subject had never been discussed with either of them before, but there was definite sexual tension in the air when they arrived for dinner that night.

For the ocassion, Jason had instructed me to wear tight jeans with a revealing blouse. No underwear was to be worn, and so the knit blouse showed my nipples quite clearly. To tell you the truth, I looked like a slut. Erin arrived wearing a dignified business suit (she is in sales), and Jim wore casual loose fitting jeans and a polo shirt that showed his nice body.

The dinner went well; I had cooked lasagna, and it was enjoyed by all. We went through 3 bottles of wine, and were having a lot of fun, though as I said, there was sexual tension and a lot of flirting that went on. I saw Erin put her hands on Jason’s legs more than once, and Jim seemed never to take his eyes off the outline of my breasts and erect nipples under my top.

After dinner, we suggested playing a game of cards, and I went to get a couple of decks. We sat at the table, and Erin suggested that we play poker. Then she said what I had been hoping and dreading… to make it more interesting and fun, we should play strip poker.

Jason immediately approved, of course, and Jim and I (the two submissives) came along for the ride. Strip poker it was.

Now, you must understand I am a reasonably good poker player. But in strip poker, you use whatever you are wearing when you start the game – and I was wearing exactly three pieces of clothing. My top; my jeans; and my shoes. Well, the shoes counted as two pieces… so four. I was at a real disadvantage. The others had socks, stockings, underwear, and that put them way ahead.

The game went as expected. I held out for some time, only losing my shoes, while Erin lost both shoes, her blouse, and nylons. The guys lost shoes and socks, and were basically completely clothed. Then a fateful hand occured… I lost my top and was topless. Erin lost her pants, and was down to her bra and panties. Jim was openly eyeing my tits, and Jason was sitting so close to Erin that their legs were touching.

I am convinced Jason threw the next hand – losing his shirt and pants, bringing him down to underwear. As he was taking his pants off, we could all see his hard on clearly. Jason is well endowed, and his cock was hard and protruding from his underpants – he even flaunted it a little. Erin actually laughed, and reached over and touched it briefly, admiring his size. She even said that she wished she had a cock like that at home, and I was painfully aware of Jim’s face turning red as he hung his head. I was jealous myself, seeing another woman actually fondling my man’s cock in front of me.

We started another hand… I lost. Big time, though it didn’t take much. All I had was my pants, and they went. I was nude, completely nude. The others were partially nude, but I still felt the most exposed. The only item I wore at this point was my slave collar, and it could not be removed. I was out of luck, totally.

Jim lost big on the next round, and had to remove his pants. I felt so sorry for him, because when they came off, he had no erection – or if he had one, his cock was the smallest I had ever seen. There was a bulge in his underwear, but nothing much sticking out. He sat, and hung his head, apparently aware of what we all saw. Erin laughed at this, and leaned over and kissed Jason hard, deep, with lots of tongue. Jason responded… and I hung my head in frustration and shame as my husband and master raised his hands and fondled Erin’s breasts.

“Jason…” I began, but he raised his hand to stop me.

“Siobhan… you are not to question my actions. You know this. Don’t make me punish you.”

This was the first time since the wedding that he had invoked his slave master status over me in front of other people. It was a bit of a shock, and I bit my lip, lowered my head and said “yes, sir.”

The game continued… without me, as I had nothing to bet with. Jim lost one last time, and as he stood to remove his underpants, the entire room seemed to freeze with anticipation. His humiliation was about to be complete, as he exposed whatever package he had.

As his underwear came down, I was puzzled at first at what I was seeing. There was some sort of prosthetic where his penis should have been. His balls hung down, large and heavy, but his penis was a plastic sheath of some sort. For a moment a chill of pure fear ran through my body as I thought that Erin had removed Jim’s penis. What a horrible thought… some sort of ultimate sexual domination had occurred between them. A moment later I realized what it was.

Jim was wearing a male chastity belt. Locked around his cock and balls was a sheath that surrounded his cock, covering it completely and keeping it small. The sexual situation we were in, my nudity, Erin and Jason mostly nude and making out… he should have been standing huge. But instead, his cock was slightly swollen, bulging slightly but still small in its prison. It must have been extremely uncomfortable to him.

I realized that Erin had been torturing Jim all this time. Knowing he had no way of having an erection without a painful consequence, she had introduced him to a slow strip tease with myself, her, and the sight of her and Jason making out half naked. Jim must have been very uncomfortable, not only from humiliation, but from his cock involuntarily attempting to swell in an erection, and being squeezed back down to size – denied in its ultimate need.

Jim sat quietly, out of the game. I sat next to him, and reached over and held his hand, squeezing it to let him know I understood his situation. I think he had a slight smile of gratitude as we sat together and watched the final negotiations of the game between Erin and Jason.

The last hand. Jason lost… removed his underwear and was naked. Erin alone still had panties and a bra… and suggested one last hand. If she lost, she would remove the rest of her clothing, and give Jason the best blow job of his life. If she won, Jason would fuck her to at least two orgasms at the location and time of her choice. Of course… Jason agreed.

My status as a simple slave had been driven home to me that night. My master, my husband, had just negotiated to have sex with my next door neighbor, right there in front of me, without even showing I was present. I sat quietly and watched…

Erin was by far the best player; she won. Jason was to fuck her.

Erin announced her decision. The time was now – the place was on the couch.

This was going to be too much for me. “Jason, is this right? I mean, we are married, and to have you just… fuck… Erin while we watch. I mean, if it was a threesome… can Jim and I join in?”

Jason looked at me intensely. “Siobhan, you know the answer. Yes, you are my wife. And my slave. Don’t question me. You know we have wonderful times together, and they will happen again, perhaps even with Jim or Erin if they are willing. For now, this pleases me.”

“But Jason, I am not sure that I…”

Jason’s expression turned sharp. “Siobhan, that is enough. I think we need something to encourage your cooperation… and silence.”

He left for a moment, and returned with two items. Raised me up to a standing position, and went behind my back where he placed a belt behind both elbows and cinched it tightly. My elbows slid behind my back, and I gasped a little as my chest and breasts thrust out. Erin and Jim watched my body contort slightly as the belt drew my elbows together behind my back, and my face winced from the pulling muscles. I felt one tear run down my cheek.

Once the belt was secure, Jason opened my mouth, wide, and slipped in a ring gag. It was a large one that he had purchased recently to help train my jaw to go wider. It hurt, my mouth wasn’t that big, but I could take it. He buckled it behind my head, stood back, and looked at my naked and slightly distorted form with satisfaction. His cock continued to be rock hard.

“What a delightful idea, Jason. I think that may be just what Jim needs as well. Do you have another set for him?” Erin’s voice had a tinge of pleasure.

“Not exactly, lets see what I can find.” Jason left and returned with another belt and something else.

“This is not quite the same, bit it might do.” It was a belt, like the one that held my elbows painfully behind my back, and he also held a leather penis gag. Erin strapped Jim’s arms behind him (he looked sexier than ever to me when bound like that). She then inserted the penis gag into his mouth – it was one with a small gag on the inside for the mouth, and a larger dildo penis extending out on the other side. Jim looked positively pitiful, bound, gagged and with his penis restrained in its sheath.

We were led to the living room, where the lights were turned on so we could all see what was happening clearly. Erin lay on the couch, slowly fingering herself through her panties as Jason position Jim and I on our knees, facing the couch where we could see the activity. My arms hurt, my jaw hurt, but most of all my heart hurt to see my husband preparing to fuck Erin. She looked amazing laying on the couch, and I wanted to join in so badly. I could only imagine what Jim felt, prevented from even allowing his body to react to the scene.

Jason went to Erin, took her hand away from her panties, and slid his own hand under the cloth to begin fingering her. She arched her back and moaned slightly, as Jason slid up her body and began kissing her deeply, as his fingers continued to masturbate her pussy.

Erin’s fingers found Jason’s cock, surrounded it and began slowly manipulating it. Their breathing had intensified, and they were pressing their bodies against each other now. Jason reached behind and unclasped Erin’s bra, exposing her breasts and then immediately suckling on them. A flush extended across her chest and her hips began movement to encourage his fingers.

Throughout this display, I knelt with Jim and simply watched. I observed Jason’s cock grow harder, and the precum glistening on the end. I saw Erin’s nipples grow hard, and her body move in increasingly involuntary jerks. Her panties were wet, and when Jason slid them down and exposed her pussy, it was glistening with moisture.

Jim made a slight moaning noise, and I looked over at him to see his reaction. He looked in pain, and with a glance I realized his cock was trying to grow hard. Its flesh was bulging out of the constricting plastic that held it, unable to grow, but still engorged. It was obviously painful to him and he was actually biting down on the gag in order to deal with the discomfort.

I turned back just in time to see Jason’s incredibly hard cock sliding into Erin. As her lips separated and surrounded him, I watched and saw every inch of his flesh penetrate and slide deeper into her. She had her legs spread wide, and rocked her hips in response to feeling his cock diving deep inside her. Seconds later, my husband’s cock slid back out, glistening wet from her body fluids, and then rammed in deep again.

Jason fucked her, thrusting, pushing, and she responded, shifting, wriggling, sliding under him to encourage him deeper. Their pace quickened, and Jason’s thrusts came harder and faster. I watched as Erin’s bare breasts jiggled, and her head pressed against the couch with each thrust. Her hands stroked and played with Jason’s back, and her lips kissed him when he bent down.

Through all of this, my shoulders ached from stretching and my jaw began cramping. The pain was slowly increasing, as my muscles lost their tension and began to stretch further. My pain… their pleasure… in a way it was beautiful. They watched me and Jim at times. They were fully aware of our pain and it got them off.

When they exploded in a simultaneous orgasm, they both had their eyes on us. The pained look in my face seemed to encourage their fucking, the moans from Jim spurred them on to orgasm. The pleasure of seeing us in pain was increasing their excitement… and I felt at that moment that it was my sole purpose in life… to suffer for him, and for her if he wished it.

When their climax had waned, and they lay in each other’s arms recovering, they looked at Jim and I silently suffering in front of them.

“I think they need to join the fun,” Erin said.

“What do you have in mind?” Jason asked.

“Jim, Siobhan, turn to face each other,” Erin commanded. We obeyed. Kneeling in front of each other, Jim looked at me with pained but aroused eyes, a large rubber dick extending from his face. I was drooling horribly, over my chin and dripping onto my breasts.

“Jim, fuck Siobhan,” Erin commanded. Jim looked at Erin in surprise for a moment, unable to speak with the gag in his mouth.

“Do it, worm!!!” Erin’s voice had suddenly taken on a harshness I had never heard before. Jim turned to me with puzzlement, but I knew exactly what she meant. I moved my face closer to his, manuevering my painfully wide mouth to the dildo extending from his mouth. He realized as well, and slowly slid the dildo into my mouth, being careful not to go too deep.

“Oh, yes! Erin, I like your thinking. They do need to fuck each other, don’t they. At the same time we fuck. Except they can receive no pleasure from it… while we will. I love it.” Jason sounded delighted.

Jim was slowly sliding the dildo in and out of my mouth, not too deep, not enough to choke me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jason and Erin making out while Jim and I psuedo-fucked. They were getting hot again already, and before long, Erin was laying on the couch, Jason behind her. Erin’s leg went up, way up, and back as they scissored and Jason plunged his cock into Erin’s pussy once again. His thrusting began. Both of them had their eyes on Jim and me, watching the psuedo-fuck as they continued fucking towards the second orgasm.

“Fuck her the same way, the same time as I fuck your mistress!” Jason ordered Jim.

Jim increased his rhythm, and the depth of his thrusts into my mouth. It made me gag, and the drool had made my breasts soaking wet. My head and hair was bouncing back and forth from the force of the thrusts, and I was gagging every few seconds.

God, it hurt. My shoulders… cramping. My jaw was cramping worse than ever. My throat was raw and I was gagging up my dinner in little bits from the deep thrusts which were urged on by Jason and Erin. I was crying, it seemed like all my body fluids were draining at once, tears, snot from my nose, drool from my mouth… pee… oh god, I was hoping I didn’t lose bladder control. My carpet. My beautiful carpet was going to be soaked with body fluids…

Jason was grunting, trying to come, and Erin was moaning like she was about to orgasm. Jim was thrusting into my throat deeping, and bits of my dinner were coming up between thrusts. I felt nauseous in addition to the pain. Erin and Jason were looking at me, using me to help them, help them reach orgasm, once again… my pain was their pleasure, my humiliation their desire…

Just when I thought I was going to lose all control and throw up on Jim, I heard Jason thrust deep, Erin crying out in her climax. They were sweaty and slippery from their combined effort of pleasure. I was sweaty and slippery from drool and stomach puke and pain.

Jim stopped mouth fucking me as our partners stopped their fuck. Jason’s cock was still inside Erin, but was slowly shrinking and sliding out. Jim and I waited, as the two of them kissed and fondled each other in some afterplay.

Later that night, as Erin and Jim were leaving and Jason and I were waving to them from the front door, Erin called out what a delightful evening it had been. Both Jason and I waved and agreed, and I suggested that perhaps next time we could do it at their house and try something new. They both grinned a little, and said sure, though I think I saw Jim wince a bit.

When the door closed, Jason turned to me and kissed my forehead. “I know this was tough for you tonight, and I am proud of you. You are a worthy slave and a good wife.”

I smiled and felt the glow from his approval.

“But,” he said… “I do think you need to be punished. You argued with me in front of them, and that is not acceptable. Let’s head to bed, and perhaps in the morning we can discuss your punishment.”

We climbed the stairs, and went to bed. I had a twinge in my stomach, wondering what the punishment might be. Being punished by Jason is not pleasant, and making me wait to find out what would happen was another layer of punishment on top of that.

Obedience

2009-05-19T00:33:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in my chair, rather late at night. It has been an interesting day, made so by your rather unexpected and kinky intervention.

So… it started when we flirted on IM. It was a little unexpected, I was sitting doing some work and you pop on. And yeah… you began to flirt, and suggest, and then describe… rather explicitly… and it got me rather hot. Not unusual for us I know, but still, it hasn’t happened at work in a long time.

It was enjoyable, though I began worrying about the work network – too much explicit talk could result in someone tracking me down. I tried to calm you down a bit by joking, and telling you that I shouldn’t be getting horny at work.

Your response, when you took control… it just flipped me over. I let it happen; I could have resisted, but at that moment I realized I wanted you to dominate me. I wanted this thing that hadn’t happened in so long. I remember the wet feeling between my legs moments later, knowing my body was self lubricating for you, involuntarily, and it was because you were not giving me a choice. I had no choice, you were simply telling me what I was going to do, and that included having an orgasm. Right then, at work. My body was responding in obedience.

It felt amazing, walking down the hall, knowing I was going to slip into a stall and masturbate, and climax; because you had decided it.

The restroom was empty when I first entered and selected a stall as far from the door as I could. I slipped my slacks down, and then panties. It was so strange, feeling the cool air on my bare flesh. I felt naked and exposed just then. Normally when I go to the restroom it is just business. There is no sense of exposure, no arousal, no sense of nakedness. This time, I felt vulnerable, and a little nervous because I knew I had to masturbate, and I had to orgasm. There was no choice.

I reached down, and slipped my left hand between my legs. It immediately felt that my soft flesh was slippery wet. I was embarrassed knowing how aroused I was, just in the short time we had been flirting. My fingers spread my lips slightly, sliding down, initially avoiding my clit. It felt good, and after rubbing some more and warming up, I allowed myself to slide two fingers on each side of my clit. I began to feel the peculiar pleasure of my body.

Several people came in and out of the restroom, and each time I stopped moving for fear that they would see what I was doing through the cracks at the joints of the stall walls. Even with these interruptions, I could feel the warmth building quickly, the glow which swelled and spread through my body. My hand was stroking harder and faster; I worried I would make noise and slowed slightly. I never know if the sound of rubbing makes a noise, especially when I am wet, so I was careful.

Just as I felt the climax coming on, I slipped two fingers inside. They went in easily, sliding over my clit as they went in. The flood of pleasure was amazing; it came quickly, and it was so much more intense because it was obedience. Obedience to your directive. That I would have an orgasm, then, immediately, at work. I felt like such a slut, and loved it so much I could taste it.

Afterward I wiped a little to dry off, and of course smelled my fingers. I do that whenever I masturbate for you, imagining what you would smell. There was nothing I could do about my panties, still moist from earlier. I walked back to my cube and reported back to you. It felt good to be able to tell you that I had succeeded in obeying you in this slightly slutty adventure. It felt good that you were getting off on my obedience and submission to you. My act of obedience was turning me on like I hadn’t been turned on in a long, long time. I had forgotten the thrill.

Then you suggested something more… something… well, a total surprise. I wasn’t surprised by your telling me to masturbate. But this…

I deserved to be spanked. You made it clear, and instructed me to arrange it. You were not present, and so he was to do it, as your surrogate. I was to request, manipulate, beg if I had to. He would spank me.

I knew I could do it. I knew the buttons to push. It had been some time since I had had a thorough spanking, and the thought of it made me flush with excitement. I suddenly wanted the spanking. The pain… I knew I could take the pain though really good spankings can be a lot worse than you might imagine. It made me nervous, to think I was going to go home and arrange for a spanking, at your demand.

Nervous, yes, but also aroused. I would forget throughout the day, and then it would come rushing back. I could feel my breath quicken, my pulse surge, and I could almost taste the stinging pain on my ass that was to come. If I thought about it too long, I would shift in my chair as if the pain was already there. Wriggling.

Anticipation? Yes, I am sure. Fear? Some, though not a lot. Something like going in to get a medical test done, and not knowing just how uncomfortable it might be. Arousal? Definitely. So much so I wanted to seek out the restroom once again. I knew it would only take moments.

No, I couldn’t. I stopped myself, more than once, from fulfilling my desires. I wanted myself in a state of heightened awareness, of extreme arousal. Experience had taught me I could take a lot more if I was aroused. It would be more exciting and pleasurable. So… I let it simmer.

Thinking about you. Thinking about your instructions. I was to be punished. You were not here, so I was to arrange for him to do it, but consider that it was you. Think about you. Feel your hand on my ass. Imagine you there, taking me.

I picked a fight with him when I got home. Not a big one, just a little huffing. But it established a tone of dissatisfaction, which I think reinforced some level of poutiness he had left over from our fight Saturday. He wanted me to fix dinner, I huffed and asked why didn’t he do it, and he complained we had nothing in the house… and so on. I fixed dinner.

After cleaning up from dinner, I put on a particularly sexy outfit. A silky teddy I know he likes, it shows off my curves, whatever curves I have. But it makes me very feminine. My hair had been brushed and was looking good. I was clean, attractive, sexy, and ready to make my play…

I was up front. I simply suggested to him that he might feel better if he gave me a spanking. I told him I knew I had frustrated him and it might be an appropriate punishment; get it out of his system and move past our recent disagreements.

The transformation in him was immediate, and amazing. He knew the scene, it was very sexual, and I was sexy as hell at that moment. I could almost see his cock going erect in his pants. I also have to admit I was getting wet, and almost shaking with the nervousness and anticipation. He had to come through for me, just then. I didn’t want to fail, and yet not failing meant submitting to an ass beating driven by an angry and horny hubby.

He hadn’t said anything yet, so I simply got off the couch, and kneeled in front of him, my head bowed down so that my hair fell over my face. My hands lay on my knees, which were slightly spread. I stayed there, breathing, waiting, trying to hide my shakes and my desire.

His hand took mine, and raised me up. When I was standing, looking in to his eyes, I could tell what he saw there – the fear and excitement that I was feeling. Oh god, I wanted him to start, and I wanted it to be over. The deed was done, the process set in motion, the situation created and the first domino knocked down to the next…

I remember biting my lip as his hand reached up and slipped off my right shoulder strap. The left one fell easily as well, and with almost no effort my teddy was around my waist. I was standing naked from the waist up as he gazed in my eyes and kissed me lightly on my cheek.

To tell you the truth, I was scared to death he was going to just have sex with me at that point… not that I didn’t want to fuck him, but I desparately needed to obey, and receive my spanking. I could not face writing you and telling you that I had not been able to do as you desired…

He slipped my teddy down past my waist, and over my hips. I spread my legs just slightly so it fell to the floor unencumbered. I was naked before him now, and felt more vulnerable and exposed than I had in ages. It was so hot I thought I would orgasm right then (not really, but it was still really hot).

Sitting on the couch, he took my hand and pulled me down to him, guiding my so that my naked body lay over his lap. I assumed the position. Arms over my head, all the way so that they would not interfere. My ass was slightly elevated because it was positioned right over his legs. The sensation of my bare ass sticking up was unbelievable. I could feel its nakedness, waiting there. Any moment the first sting would take this feeling away, and the pain would begin. My body tensed, waiting.

He caressed my ass first. Damn him… he slid one hand over, and then pushed in to my crack to feel my hole… it felt so violating. So incredibly… I don’t know how to describe it but he was probing me as I lay there waiting. His other hand went between my legs and found the wetness of my pussy.

At that moment I remembered you so clearly, and felt your hands penetrating my ass and my pussy. I shuddered a little, and shifted, raising my ass and spreading my legs. Not because it felt good (because it did) but in obedience to you. You were there, in my mind, feeling every bit of my wet juices.

And then it came. Almost without warning, the first stinging slap. It was surprising, and I gasped, or squeeked a little. The first one is always worst in a way because it isn’t expected. It is just the beginning, where it starts hurting. The continuing strikes make it hurt more and more, and eventually it becomes torture… but the first one is the trigger that starts the pain ride…

He continued slapping my ass, hard. Really hard. I could tell he was taking out some of his frustrations on my ass. I began wriggling away… and he pulled me back. My hands gripped the end of the sofa, so they had something to do. Each slap stung worse, and I reminded myself that these were your hands. When I remembered that, I shoved my ass up a little higher in to the air, taking it, asking for it, giving it to you.

Damn, it was hurting though. Burning. The humiliation of this was getting to me. I was not tied up, I was completely free. I had actually asked for this, because you had told me to, and I was begging to be punished, because you desired it. It was the strangest and hottest situation I have been in in a long, long time. Feeling him whack me, and knowing it was you. Feeling the arousal inside me, the wetness, the passion, and knowing it was being brought on by pain…

I hadn’t realized I was crying. Not loudly, or I couldn’t really tell whether it was loud or not. I didn’t think it was loud but it must have been loud enough for him to hear. He stopped, and took my head, turning it to see my face. I looked up at him and must have had a pitiful look, for he reached on hand to my cheeks and wiped tears away with his thumb.

I saw him raise his hand again, and I burried my face down again, gritted my teeth and felt more slaps against my ass.

I don’t know if you have ever been spanked. It seems to someone from the outside like it is not a big deal. But the harder it is, the longer it goes on, it raises welts. The skin burns and the pain can actually penetrate deeply. My tears were real. I remember wondering how I could be submitting myself to this, so willingly, and enjoying it so much. I must be a sicky to want pleasure to be mixed with pain.

It didn’t matter. I had committed to the punishment, and it was being carried out. I was obeying.

I think he spanked my ass with about 50 strokes or so. I never once asked for him to stop. I never once failed to remember this was you, Matt, you with me across your lap. I was laying there, taking your punishment, and I remembered it with every stroke. I think the only thing I wanted more than what was happening was for you to be there so that the strokes would be harder, and so that I knew I would have your cock inside me when it was over.

When he finally stopped, my ass kept right on hurting. It was on fire, and the fire burned whether there were any more strokes then or not. I wasn’t crying hard, just tears running down my cheeks. My cheeks turn red and emphasize my freckles when I cry. I have been told I look younger when I cry.

He stroked the welts on my ass. Gently running his fingers along them, enjoying what he had done to me.

After a couple of minutes, I had stopped crying and he stopped fondling my ass and put his fingers down to my pussy, spreading the lips wide. I spread my legs wide, exposing myself to him… and to you. I wondered if you would be thinking about me, about fucking me, while you were fucking Gillian…

When he was ready he stood me up, and turned me around, leaning me over so that my stomach was on the sofa, ass jutting out. I knew he would do this, he was not going to pass up the chance to fuck me after hurting me like that. I wanted it too, because I knew I would be thinking about your cock sliding in to me, pushing in to me, deep, deeper than I have ever felt…

And it did. Your cock found my pussy lips, and I felt it press and spread them wide. I was so wet, a total pain slut, ready to orgasm from the pain and humiliation. I felt like a slut right then, being used by you for your pleasure, and it made me so excited that I climaxed by the fourth or fifth time he pushed in to me. Of couse, he wasn’t ready, and kept going, which kept me going…

My ass was still on fire, though it was fading. Still in pain, while I was being fucked to a second orgasm. You grabbed my hair, and pulled it, so that I had to arch my head and back. God, the feeling of you plunging in to me, fucking me harder… your cock suddenly convulsing and your thrusts stopping as you strained to push in to me, to push your semen in to my body…

So, here I am. Telling you of what I did for you. In obedience to you. Your slut, your slut by proxy, your pain slut. I had the most intense experience tonight. Pain. Pleasure. You. Mingled.

I cheated on him, and used him. Thank you for punishing me, and degrading me. I am your slut from afar, obedient to you.

My ass still hurts and it has been several hours.

Basement

2009-05-03T15:23:00.001-07:00

My first night in the basement came about a week after the honeymoon.

Jason was particularly aggressive that day. When I came home from work, he was waiting and immediately took my hand and guided me upstairs. In the bedroom, he pushed me down to the bed, and produced handcuffs that quickly secured my arms above my head. With my wrists handcuffed to the bed, he straddled me, passion in his eyes, desire emanating from his body. Just looking at him made me wet with arousal, and I wanted him so badly I could hardly stand it.

The cuffs kept me from clutching him to me, and instead he ripped my clothes off, tearing off my blouse as I breathed heavily from arousal, spreading my legs to either side of his body. My legs wrapped slightly around his kneeling form, the sound of his zipper producing a gasp of anticipation from me. He was rock hard. His cock slid against my soaking wet panties, and I almost came right then.

He took a black cloth and covered my eyes, blindfolding me. I could see nothing, but felt everything. The blindfold made me feel all the more helpless and vulnerable, which in turn made me even more aroused. I wanted him inside of me so badly.

I jerked against the cuffs, I knew there was no point but I could not help it. My body wanted to surround him, take him in to me, grasp him and consume him. Instead I jerked and strained and lay their with my legs wide, pleading for him to enter. He did, finally. His cock found its way around the slim crotch of my panties and pushed it aside, slipping up my cunt with ease in spite of its size, I was so wet.

Within moments I had my first orgasm, my legs gripping his hips and my hands grasping the bed above my head. I screamed out his name, breasts heaving and hips convulsing. The pleasure flooded warm and intense, spurred on by his constant thrusting deep inside.

He continued to slide in and out of me, grunting and pushing deep. My body pressed up on the bed, shoved higher by his thrusting. My hands found the wall and pushed, to keep myself from moving too far. My wrists hurt from the tight cuffs, and the pain served to stimulate my desire even more. I wanted my breasts bitten, I needed to have him thrust harder, harder until it hurt. And he did... his thrusts became more urgent and intense, and my hands once again grabbed the bed as a flood of warm orgasm started in my hips and spread throughout my body. At the same time, he grunted loudly, and I felt the tightening of his muscles, the hardening of his cock and the sudden deep thrust and convulsion of his ejaculation, deep inside me.

He collapsed on top of me, exhausted. We were both panting, gasping, our skin shiny with sweat from the intensity of our love making. He felt so good on top of me, his weight reassuring, his hands comforting as he held my sides.

When he recovered, he raised up, clothed himself once more, and with a single gentle touch on my cheek he left the room. I remained laying on my back, wrists cuffed above my head, semen dripping from my pussy on to the sheets. I waited patiently for his pleasure.

There were sounds from downstairs. Guests had come to dinner. I wasn't invited, but lay in the bed, shackled and blindfolded. The feeling of loneliness was piercing, but I knew I was his slave, to do with as he pleased. This was my fate, to be bound and wait his pleasure.

There was a wet spot on the bed beneath me. My pussy had drained on to it.

I could not tell what time of day it was, all was dark under the blindfold.

After several hours, he came to me, undid the blindfold and uncuffed me from the bed.

"Siobhan, dear... you have been messy. Look at this." He pointed to the wet spot under my ass.

"I am afraid you are not fit to sleep in my bed tonight. I think you need to spend the night in the cellar."

He produced a chain, with heavy shackles on it. "Kneel" he commanded.

I knelt in front of him. I was learning, I knew the position, with knees spread wide, my hands on my legs, head bowed.

He approached me, and hinged a large collar around my neck. It fit snugly, though not painfully. I could breathe well. The metal was heavy though, thick and cold on my bare skin.

Two more metal rings were applied to my wrists. They were locked on with small pins that took a special tool to screw in. All three shackles were connected by short lengths of chain, short enough my wrists were prevented from going below my chest height. I would not be able to reach my pussy.

Raising me up by the chain, Jason guided me down the stairs and in to the basement. When we reached the bottom, he locked the chain to a beam near the floor. I would be able to move two feet or so, no farther. The concrete floor was hard, the room dark. The chains were heavy and while they weighed me down, they were short and prevented much movement.

"Jason... I am sorry. Whatever I did, I can correct it. Please... don't leave me here tonight." I pleaded with him, respectfully. Trying not to whine. He hated it when I whined.

"Siobhan, dear... I think you need to start getting used to this. You are a slave. You sleep in my bed when it pleases me, for my reasons. None other. Make yourself comfortable, and I will see you in the morning."

Tears came to my eyes as my master turned to go. "Jason... what... what do I do? I mean... if I need to go to the restroom?"

As he climbed the stairs, he called out "Hold it!"

The door closed and total darkness descended. I curled up on the hard floor, and felt my bladder swell. I would not make it through the night, it was already hurting.

I wondered if I would get any sleep.

Amrbinder

2009-04-02T21:55:00.000-07:00

My first evening home from work after the honeymoon. Tired, but excited that I was back to work. The contrast between working as a professional and knowing that I was also a slave, subject to my husband’s whim, was an incredible rush.

I got home that night, and was met by my man at the door. He announced a new toy, one that had just come today and he was eager to try it out.

The new toy was an arm binder. I had never worn one before, partly because they cost a lot of money, and partly because… well, there had never been one handy. This one was a gift, from my husband Jason, of course. It was more of a gift for him than me, though it was going to be pretty interesting to try out.

It looked more like a weirdly shaped corset when he first took it out of the box. Wide, somewhat curved leather lay flat, with laces loosely strung through eyelets its entire length. It looked so wide and large, I had trouble thinking that it would secure my arms very tightly. The end appeared to be a very thin glove like bag, and had a ring attached to it. The other end, the wider end, had two straps that extended out, designed to go over my shoulders. I looked at it, as I had looked at other leather and rope accessories, and thought how innocent it looked, until put to its intended use.

“It cost me a pretty penny,” Jason said. He picked it up and felt the leather. I reached out and took the end, wondering how my hands were supposed to fit in that small area. The leather smelled wonderful, and was supple and soft. Quality workmanship.

“Well, I can’t wait to get started. What did you have in mind?” I asked.

Jason laughed… “Dearest, you know me by now. You will know when it happens to you. Not before.”

“How long will I be in there? There should be some sort of limit, don’t you think? It is a new toy, after all.”

“Until I am satisfied.” Jason took the binder back from me, and held it up to my nose. “Smell it.”

I smelled it. It smelled good. Leather always had a way of making me aroused.

“Kiss it.”

I kissed it. Not just a peck but a loving kiss, that continued and ran with my tongue from the top down to the base.

“Good girl. Now, take your top off.”

My silky work top came off, up over my head, and I shook my long brown hair back in to place. The top was placed on the table nearby, folded neatly. I then reached behind and undid my bra, slipping it down over my shoulders and arms, revealing my rather nicely shaped breasts. Jason had always enjoyed my breasts, which were a nice C cup. Just right for playing with Jason always said, and I must admit I enjoyed it when he played with them. The bra was placed on the folded shirt.

Jason took a moment to cup one breast in his hands, and feel its curve. He lifted it slightly, and pinched the nipple gently. Both nipples were erect by now, in anticipation. Both breasts felt vulnerable.

I felt exposed and just a little cold as I stood there in front of him, and he observed me. My breasts felt colder than the rest, because I was more aware of their exposure. My nipples were already hard, and not just from the cool temperature. I knew better than to use my arms or hands to try and cover myself, and so stood with arms hanging down to my sides.

He gently turned me to face away from him, and moved my hands behind my back, palms together, flat. I felt the leather glove at the bottom of the binder slip on, and immediately felt the little thrill that comes knowing that bondage has begun.

A couple of yanks and the glove was on tightly, my hands were confined in the leather, fingers slightly bent, wrists held together by the shape of the binder. Jason then took the straps at the top of the binder and laced them under my arms and over my shoulders, buckling them in place. So far, it was no worse than simply wearing a pair of handcuffs, which I had done many times. But I was already confined, and it felt exciting. I could feel myself beginning to get a little wet between my legs.

Jason began tightening the laces. They were quite loose, and though the straps held the binder in place, I could still move my elbows quite a bit. Jason started at the bottom, pulling the laces, and at each step up the binder, the leather drew my arms further behind my back and closer to each other. The progressive tightening continued, and the leather cocooned my arms, pressing them with increasing force. The more the laces tightened, the more vulnerable I felt.

As Jason reached the top of the binder close to my shoulder blades, pulling the last of the slack out of the laces, a small whimper escaped. I had never felt bondage this tight, and it was getting very uncomfortable. My shoulders were drawn back, pulled by my arms, and I could feel how the bending of my frame thrust out my breasts, making them even more exposed.

He wasn’t done. Jason returned to the bottom of the binder and began pulling again. A few second later, I realized there was more slack he was removing, and the already very tight binder was going to become even more restrictive. I grunted a little as the laces became tighter and tigher, moving up my arms once again. When he reached my elbows, he put a knee in the small of my back and pulled the laces hard, causing my elbows to pull together painfully, pressed together hard from the leather binding. It wasn’t a whimper that came from me this time, but a full fledged cry of pain.

It hurt. My shoulders were cramping, my arms felt stretched to their limits, even my chest felt the pressure. But still, Jason tightened the laces higher, above the elbows, until he reached the top. He tied the laces off, and I realized he was done. At last. My arms were mummified, constricted more tightly than I had ever imagined they could be.

Blood flow was restricted. I could tell, because I felt a slight pounding in my arms and hands. It felt as if the blood was trying to make its way in to my arms, but they had been compressed so tightly there was no room for it. The pull on my shoulders created cramps, and I found myself leaning over, moving around, trying to relieve the discomfort. This prompted Jason to come up behind me, pressing his stomach and chest against my bound arms, and placing his hands on my breasts, holding them, fondling them.

“Touch me. Make me feel good,” Jason whispered in my ear. My bound hands moved against his pants, until I could just feel his cock. It was virtually impossible to move and rub it, but I tried. He stood for a while, letting me get him off, fondling the exposed parts of my body.

In the meantime, I was wondering how long I could do this. The binder was a lot tighter and restrictive than I had thought. My entire upper body was twisted out of shape, and hurt in places I had never hurt before.

“Jason, I…” I began, but he cut me off.

“Quiet my love. We are not done,” he said softly as he stepped back, and then used the ring at the bottom of my binder to guide me forward a little.

I stood patiently, trying to breath normally in spite of the pressure of my distended chest. I was intensely aware of how I must look to him, and at the same time was intensely aware of just how helpless I was in this binder. They really restricted movement in a most uncomfortable way. Much more than handcuffs.

Jason fastened something to the ring at the end of the binder. In a moment, I heard a rasping noise and something pulled the end of the binder up in the air. It was so unexpected, and hurt, that I let out an involuntary “aaaghhh!!!”

The end of my arms had risen about two feet in to the air, and the pressure on my arms and shoulders forced me over to a 45 degree angle. He had attached a rope over a hook in the ceiling and then to the ring on the binder and had pulled my arms up. I was bent, my hair hanging down on either side of my face, breasts dangling in a way which exposed their shape to their best advantage. My breathing shortened, and the cramping spread across my shoulders a little more.

“My dear… you are so beautiful like this. I wish you could see yourself.”

“Jason, I am not sure how long…” I gasped.

“Oh Siobhan. You are simply talking too much. Complaining is not allowed. But no worries, I can help you with that.”

In a moment I felt the familiar straps of a head harness encompassing my head, the ball gag inserted into my automatically opened mouth. The triangular face straps ascended on either side of my nose, partially obscuring my vision. My hair was pulled back from my face slightly, held by the straps which were then buckled behind my head. Tightly. The ball gag bit deep in my mouth, making me gag temporarily.

Saliva production was stimulated by the gag, and I began to drool. I stood motionless, unable to move, simply allowing the drool to pool in my mouth until it filled it and began seeping out. I bit down on the gag. The one good thing about a gag - you can bite on it. It helps sometimes when the pain begins to get to you.

Then the most interesting sound penetrated my hearing. The doorbell. Jason, rather than ignoring it, said “Wait here a moment, will you? Don’t go anywhere.” And left.

As he exited the room, I grunted and barked at him from behind the gag. He ignored me of course.

In spite of the fact it was tighter and more painful than I had imagined, I had to admit I was aroused. This was an amazing feeling, my nipples were hard, my panties were soaking wet, and I was thoroughly enjoying my miserable condition.

My head jerked to the side to look as I heard voices approaching. What the hell was going on? Who was coming? Damn it all, I was fucking bound here, unable to move, half naked, and Jason was getting closer with whoever it was that had come in the house. I was hurting, cramping, aroused, drooling, exposed, vulnerable… and… in walked Jason with the couple from across the street, Diane and Steve. Steve is a tall, lanky guy about 30 years old. Diane is shorter, about 27, with a voluptuous figure, dark blonde hair and the cutest face. I have always had a secret crush on her.

If I hadn’t already been red from the exertion of the binder, I would have blushed heavily. My eyes were big and after a moment I let out a holler from behind my gag. Jason was smiling just as big as anything, and Steve had stopped for a moment in the doorway to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. His cock must have gotten hard in about 2 seconds after he got a look at me. Diane stood quietly, scanning me up and down, and then turned to Jason as she said “are you sure this is ok?”

“Absolutely,” he assured Diane and Steve. “Exhibitionism is a fantasy of hers, and this is a great opportunity. She will get off on it, trust me.”

I glared at Jason hard. In response he went over to the rope which was holding my arms up behind me, and pulled on it, raising my arms higher. “Aaggghhh!!!!!” I cried out from behind the gag as the pressure from the binder bent me further down. My body was now bent forward completely, at a 90 degree angle and I could no longer see Jason, Diane or Steve. I began standing on tip toe to try and relieve some of the pressure, and while it didn’t help much, the cramping in my shoulders and back had begun to really burn and every little bit helped.

My breathing was also getting shallower, as the pressure and angle I was at restricted chest expansion. I panted slightly. Drool was coming down from the ball gag in long strands and pooling on the floor below me. I moaned quietly.

Jason was talking to Diane and Steve. They were discussing what to do with me. I could hear some of it, but it was difficult. They spoke in low tones, and I was kind of distracted with the position I was in.

Once again, I felt the rope at the end of my arms pulled up, a little more, and I grunted and moaned louder as I felt my arms raised and the muscles pulled. The pain was radiating from my shoulders across my chest by now, and my head was actually bent down slightly, so that blood pressure was building up in it.

Rough hands encircled my waist, and I recognized Steve’s hands as they unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. I stepped out of them, and his hands slid up my legs, my inner thighs, and finally to my wet panties. I was so damn embarrassed. And so damn wet. I could not believe my neighbor was enjoying my predicament, the restraints, and seeing my arousal, even participating in the arousal.

Diane joined in and gently removed my panties, her fingers brushing the shaved wet softness of my pussy. When they were off, she took each of my breasts in her hands and kissed me on the cheek. I had never felt so helpless than at that point, standing on my toes, bent over trying to relieve the pain, naked and exposed as my next door neighbor fondled my breasts and kissed my cheek. It made me so hot I could hardly stand it.

Jason moved behind me again, and placed hands on my exposed ass. Gently turning me around, he shifted my position so that Steve and Diane had a good side view of my naked profile. On the other hand, my view was still of the floor under my head, with a new pool of my drool beginning to form.

Behind me, I heard Jason removing his clothes. I knew Steve and Diane had seated themselves on the couch a few feet away, with a good view of my contorted body. Then I felt Jason, as his cock head slowly and gently traversed my ass cheeks, in my ass crack, and finally arrived at my exposed pussy. I was so aroused that he needed no lube. Juices shimmered on my pussy and were beginning to trickle down my inner thigh, so I knew I was ready for him. In fact, I wanted him so badly at that moment, I needed him to take me, penetrate and impale me on his cock, in front of the neighbors, helpless and taken by him.

With a sudden thrust, my desire was fulfilled. His cock sunk deeply inside me, the sudden motion knocking me a little off balance and causing a shock of cramping to ripple across my sides and chest. My arms were in a permanent state of burning cramps, as were my shoulders, but his cock inside almost made me come right then.

He began thrusting, and I began moaning. The pain in my upper body combined beautifully with the pleasure in my lower body. Together, they created a sensation of being alive that was what made bondage the ultimate excitement for me. I savored the pain. I wanted it to merge with the pleasure. Jason’s hands dug in to my hips hard, holding me tight, preventing me from moving as he thrust harder. I stood, helpless to interact, a tool for his pleasure and that of our neighbors who were watching this spectacle.

I came… with a low gutteral groan I orgasmed, shivered and flushed across my chest and face with the warm glow of climax. Jason kept going, thrusting, and as I came down from my climax the pain in my arms began to occupy my mind more. Some of my arousal had subsided with the climax and my painful and embarrassing situation was clear in my mind. The thing is, the pain and embarrassment was arousing to me, and I soon found myself approaching another climax.

As my hips began to feel the developing glow of a second orgasm, Jason suddenly pulled out of me. I almost screamed in frustration. He came around in front of me, his hard member throbbing in my face as he stroked it. I could see his wet cock, lubed from my pussy, his hand sliding up and down quickly as it pulsed with contractions. The contractions reached a peak and a white stream spurted in to my face, across my forehead and eyes, continuing to spurt over and over, across my nose, lips and chin. His grunts of pleasure indicated he was having a fantastic orgasm at my expense, and there was absolutely nothing I could do but let his come cover my face.

At last, he stopped ejaculating and pushed his cock on my face, smearing the semen around.

A moment later, Diane was there, licking his still hard cock, cleaning up the come which covered it. She then turned to me, and licked my face, lapping up Jason’s come and swallowing every bit of it, until my face was clean. I felt humiliated by her participation and my helplessness. I wanted her, and always had from the time she moved in. But I had never imagined our first encounter would be as I was strung up in strappado while she cleaned someone’s semen from my face with her tongue.

A moment later, I felt relief from the horrible pulling and tension of my arms as Jason slowly lowered the rope. The cramping subsided a little, and I stood straight for the first time in an hour. My arms were still tightly strapped behind my back, and I stood naked with the ball gag in my mouth and drool draining over my chin on to my neck and breasts.

I looked at Jason. My meaning was clear. He had stopped before I had come the second time, and I felt cheated. He knew it too. He glanced over at Steve, and said “Hey, Steve, I think she still needs a good fucking. Are you up to it?”

I looked at Steve, and my arousal and desire must have been clear, for he grinned and said “I do believe she would like that. If you don’t mind?”

“Be my guest,” Jason replied.

I was led, still bound and gagged, to where Steve was sitting. His cock was already out of his pants, and he was idly stroking it. It was impressive. Thick enough, but very long, it reached his belly button when erect. I let my naked body straddle him, and slowly sank down on his cock, which slid in without difficulty.

As I rode Steve, Diane came and sat next to us, kissing and fondling Steve’s balls, and then kissing my breasts and face (I was still gagged quite tightly). Steve’s cock seemed to drive deeper and deeper in to me with each stroke, as I pressed down hard. The head of his cock was pushing on my cervix, and as he spasmed up in to me I felt like I was truly being impaled.

My body was shiny from sweat brought on by exertion and pain. My arms were killing me, shoulders were cramping, my breasts jutted out making it easy for Diane to play with them as I fucked her husband uncontrollably. Finally, I came with a crying scream that filled the room with the sound of my passion, and moments later, Steve cried out in an almost surprised way, as if the intensity of his orgasm was a shock. His cock was buried so deep inside me it felt like he was pressing against and spurting into my stomach.

As I sat on Steve’s lap, exhausted, Jason removed my head harness and gag. I closed my jaw, feeling the relief of not having it held wide open, and Diane moved over and kissed me deeply. After Diane, Steve kissed me, and finally Jason.

“Can I get this binder off? If I don’t get it off soon, I might lose bowel control right here, on top of Steve,” I said, only half joking.

I stood up, getting off of Steve’s lap, letting his still hard cock slip out of me. Jason began the slow process of undoing the laces, and then pulling them wide to remove the binder. Finally he unbucked the shoulder straps and my arms fell to my sides. The muscles in my shoulders seemed numb, and it was difficult to move them for a bit, but Jason and Steve massaged them, and they were soon back to a useful state.

I had never been exposed like this, in bondage, in front of someone like my neighbors. It was unexpected, humiliating, pissed me off, and had made me so hot I wanted to do it again as soon as I could.

Diane was sitting on the couch, looking at the guys as they helped me back from my restrained state. She finally spoke. “You know. I am the only one here that hasn’t had a damn good orgasm. We are going to need to fix that, somehow.”

I responded by going over to her, kissing her deeply, and grinned, “I think we might be able to arrange something.”

Dildo Stool

2009-03-25T23:52:00.001-07:00

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.

The Honeymoon is Over

2009-03-11T23:04:00.001-07:00

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.

Discipline

2009-02-22T16:56:00.001-08:00

I was wearing a tight pair of jeans, and nice T top, with a bikini underneath. It was three days after the wedding, and the first time I had been clothed. He allowed me to dress so we could go out to lunch together, and walk the beach.

He fondled my ass as we entered the restaurant and I brushed his hand away, embarrassed that others would see. We were seated by large bay windows overlooking the sand. A beautiful view made the lunch a delight.

Afterward, we walked down to the beach and I took my shoes off and waded in to the water. My pants were getting wet, so I took them off as well, and then splashed Jason as he followed me into the water's edge. I laughed and ran as he shook the water off and ran after me.

"Let's go back, it is getting cold out here," Jason looked a little unhappy, but I had been stuck in the room for three days, unable to leave without clothes.

"Awww... I want to play for a while... " I splashed him again, and ran further down the shoreline.

He chased, and when we stopped together, breathless, he said rather sternly, "Siobhan, its time to go back. I have some work to do and its cold."

"Honey, this is our honeymoon, I want to relax out on the beach for a while."

"Siobhan, it is time to go back."

"Well, let's walk back slowly, then," I took his hand and we walked together.

He was horny, I could tell the way his hand kept roaming to my ass, and he nuzzled my neck. His fingers slid under the edge of my bikini bottom for a moment, and I brushed his hand away again, embarrassed of what others might think.

When we arrived at the room, Jason took me by the arm and guided me to the window. "Remove your clothes," he ordered. I was in full view of the open window, and hesitated a moment. "You need a lesson," he stated in a matter of fact way. His hand reached out and leaned me against the window. The other hand grabbed my bikini bottom, and pulled it off.

I was naked from the waist down, though while I was facing out the window, it would be difficult for passing people to see my bottom half. My hands leaned against the window sill.

With a sudden, unexpected *WHACK* his bare hand slapped my ass, hard. It stung badly, and the abrupt pain brought tears to my eyes.

I was ready for the second spank, which was harder than the first. The impact pushed me forward toward the window, my forehead pressed against the glass and I gasped from the pain.

"Oh, god, Jason... please..."

"Please what, dear? You didn't say please when we were at the restaurant, or on the beach. I think you need to learn manners."

*SLAP* his hand struck my ass again...

"Oh my god..." I gasped, I had not realized how painful a spanking could be.

My hands braced against the window sill, and I looked out at the lawn and walkway a few yards away. It felt so eerie, leaning against the window, looking out, taking a stinging slap of a spanking as people walked by on the walkway. The spanking continued, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out and calling attention to my plight. Striking in the same place, over and over again, the stinging pain increased until I was moaning and begged once again for mercy.

In answer, Jason spread my legs and exposed my pussy. He fondled it for a bit, playing with the folds of my labia and working me up until I was quite wet. When he felt I was ready, his fingers probed deeply.

Couples strolled outside the window, and I was humiliated, watching them as I leaned over and Jason probed me with his fingers. And yet... I was so aroused. If they looked over, they would see me looking out the window, but as long as I retained my composure they might not know what was being done to me. I was soaking wet, and felt the excitement of possible discovery, and it made me want to come, to orgasm for myself and Jason.

Moments later Jason pulled out his cock and slid it into my body, deep and quick. I felt it slide in all the way, his hips pressing against my burning ass, thrusting until I felt his cock pressing up against my insides. At the same time I saw a young couple walking outside, and they glanced over. Knowing they were watching me get fucked in the window almost made me cum right then.

Jason thrust, sliding out almost all the way and then shoving in hard, impaling me. He was large enough that it hurt when he thrust that hard, and he was thrusting as hard as he could. I found myself pushing against the glass, a glazed look covering my face, grunting involuntarily from the impalement of his cock.

His hands reached up, and pulled off my T, leaving me wearing just my bikini top. He slid his hands back down, and wrapped around my stomach to hold me tightly in place as he drove in to me. His cock was rock hard inside me, contracting with each thrust, and my hips were moving with him. The fucking hurt, but I wanted to cum so badly.

Before I could cum, he moaned and cried out "Oh... ffffuuuckkk," and shoved in all the way. His cock convulsed and he ejaculated deep inside my cunt.

I watched a middle aged couple walk by as he pulled me back so he could thrust once again into me from behind until he had unloaded a huge amount of semen. When he was done I continued standing obediently at the window, leaning over with my hands on the window sill. My legs were still spread.

Obediently, I stayed in that position while he rested a moment. But when he was ready...

He was naked, and had taken his belt out of his pants. At the sight of it I cried, and begged, "Please, Jason, there is no need, I don't deserve..."

"Shut up, bitch. You need this. You are mine, and deserve nothing but what I give you." The belt swung back and cut across my ass. I yelped with pain as the leather stroke cut my already reddened flesh, and I could not help but try to wriggle away.

"Stay still bitch. Don't make me tie you up." I stayed as still as I could, but the belt lashed across my ass again and made me cry out. The next stroke slid under my spread legs and licked my pussy. I almost screamed, and begged him to stop. He ignored me, and the whip stroked my pussy several more times, each time making me grunt with agony. The pain seemed like fire, and seemed to be penetrating inside me with each stroke. My cries came in sobs, gasping sobs as I felt like the entire lower half of my body was burning. When I begged him to stop, it seemed to just make him strike me harder.

Finally, the belt was tossed on the floor. He stood to my side, where I was next to the window. I could see he was completely naked as he leaned down to kiss my lips slightly. The kiss flooded me with a good feeling that contrasted horribly with the pain that was still burning throughout my lower body.

He moved back behind me, and I could feel his renewed erection pressing against my ass. His hands moved up to my breasts, and fondled them through the material of my bikini top, the one last item of clothing I had left.

Staring out the window I saw two couples walking past. They looked over and saw me leaning against the window. Their faces were curious, for I must have been a mess, with the tears streaking my face and my hair mussed from Jason's rough treatment. And Jason took that opportunity to begin removing my top.

"PLEASE! No! Jason, you can't! People will see me! It is the one piece of dignity left me, please don't strip me completely. Not here, not like this!"

In response, Jason thrust his cock deep inside my ass, spreading my sensitive anus painfully wide. At the same moment he yanked my top off and my breasts hung down for all to see. I could no longer look up at the couples that were staring from outside, and hung my head, allowing my long hair to cover my face as I sobbed in humiliation.

I braced myself, and took Jason's huge cock in my ass. It felt... so strange, painful and yet erotic, humiliating and yet arousing. His cock inside my ass was the worst pain yet. Not as bad as the belt, but there was a quality of invasion... he was entering and invading my body in any way he chose.

His hands moved across my thighs and stroked up their inside until they reached my wet pussy. He played with my clit, and slid one finger inside my pussy. I could feel the finger pressing through the flesh inside me against his cock in my rectum, and his fingers were stimulating my clit and arousing me. The feeling was obscene, the pain of his cock stretching and plunging in my ass, together with his hands stimulating my clit. The pain would keep me from coming, but it was a close call... I was near to it, in spite of my sobbing and crying.

I had stopped begging for mercy, for it seemed to simply drive him on. His hands slid up from my pussy, and I could feel the wetness on them spread across my stomach. My wetness, my arousal, from his fingers across my flesh. His hands reached my breasts and pinched my tits, hard. It should have hurt, but somehow, it didn't. Or perhaps it did, but the pain was just part of the experience that I was enjoying in a massively perverted way.

I gasped and raised my head. The two couples were just walking away, whispering and talking excitedly and looking back at the window where they could see my humiliation, pain and arousal. I lowered my head again, just as Jason's cock pulsed and I felt a warm feeling; a huge ejaculation left more cum inside my ass.

When he pulled out, I collapsed on the floor, crying just a little. He was breathing hard, having come twice, hard. At his order, I rolled over on to my back, pulled my knees up and spread my legs wide. He inspected me.

" As I thought. You are leaking all over. This is so unacceptable."

He slapped my face, and the suddenness of the sting brought fresh tears to my face.

"Please, Jason... I don't deserve this..."

"Shut up. I decide what you deserve. From now on, when I come inside you, you are to keep it inside unless you request and receive permission. Do you understand?"

"Yes. But... "

"I see... you need help and maybe a reminder. Fine."

Jason left, and moved to the other room for a moment. When he returned, he had one of the candles we had brought for romantic evening dinners in the room. It was lit. He held the candle above me for a little while, letting it burn and melt the wax. And then, slowly... ever so slowly... he tipped it over.

The hot wax streamed down and hit my pussy. I yelped, almost screamed, at the burning sensation on my abused genitals. The wax started to cover and burn my outer and inner labia, gathering more and more.

"Knees up, further, and spread them wider!" His demand was simple and stated in a tone that accepted no disobedience. I raised my knees to my breasts, and spread my legs a little further. The hot wax slowly dripped, each chunk landing in a new spot, burning new flesh, sealing my openings.

After a bit my pussy was completely covered with wax and the heat was dissipating, though the flesh under it was still raw and tender. The drops of wax moved to my ass, and began sealing my asshole. I was miserable, the burning on my ass was almost too much to take, but I managed to hold my knees high and patiently wait for his sealant to take hold. I would not be leaking any more of his cum tonight.

When he was done, the fire that burned between my legs began to feel some better. I was sore enough that it would take several days to recover, but the worst was over, I was convinced. I had stopped crying and put my legs down when he said it was permitted.

"Dearest Siobhan... I guess you have learned your lesson."

I nodded silently, my eyes big and round as I looked at him.

"Tell me. What are you?"

"I am your bitch," I knew the answer and said it with my eyes cast down.

"Good. Now, I think I shall rest." He sat in the armchair and motioned for me to come to him. I kneeled at his feet. He looked at me for a moment, and then pulled my head in. His cock was hard again and slipped in to my mouth. It slowly went deeper, and deeper. When it reached the back of my tongue and began entering my throat, I gagged. He enjoyed the pressure the gagging exerted on his cock, but I also had withdrawn to try to breathe.

He pulled his cock out and slapped my face, hard. I felt a little dizzy and my cheek burned from the impact. He positioned my head again, and slipped his cock in.

Two more times I gagged, he pulled out and slapped my face hard. My jaw hurt and the skin on my cheek was on fire when I opened wide and he inserted once again.

This time I took his entire length and managed to get it all the way down my throat. It remained there. I remained kneeling, with his cock embedded in my face all the way to where his balls pressed against my chin. I wanted to gag so badly, and did just a little, but managed to keep it in. Breathing was very hard, and I just managed a little.

He pulled out after a minute or so, and I gasped for air. Another stinging slap and his cock went down my throat again. I was getting better at this, keeping his cock down without gagging, and not needing to breathe so much. This continued for almost half an hour, and my face was beginning to feel like the skin would peel off from his slapping it. I felt like I had no more tears, and was just concentrating on keeping the cock in my throat as deep as I could for as long as I could.

Abruptly he grabbed the back of my head, shoved me against him as hard as he could. His cock actually went a little deeper down my throat as it became very hard and I felt it jerk, swelling and pressing against the sides. I swallowed instinctively, and moments later felt the spray of semen fill my throat. I kept swallowing as he dumped another huge load inside of me.

When he was done, he lay exhausted on the chair. Totally satiated, I lay my head on his lap, and he stroked my hair gently.

That night, we slept together in the same bed, legs intertwined and arms around each other, our naked bodies pressed together. I slept better than I had in years.

I was his bitch, and it felt good.

Honeymoon

2009-02-12T19:54:00.000-08:00

The ride in the back of the SUV was uncomfortable.

I was naked, cramped in to a cage which was barely large enough for me. I got a cramp in one leg, but could not stretch it out. Wriggling around inside the cage helped a little. There was a blanket over the cage which shielded my naked body from the view of those outside the car. This blanket made it hot and stuffy. I was sweating profusely, my skin glistening from the moisture, which gathered and dripped off in rivulets. It streamed down my sides slowly, gathering across my breasts and finally dripping off my nipples.

It was about a two hour drive to our beachfront hotel. I remained in the cage when he parked and checked in, and then drove to the underground garage. When the back of the SUV was popped open and the blanket removed I breathed in the fresh air in a gasp, and then gasped from humiliation. Just outside stood a bellboy to help with the "luggage." I hung my head in embarrassment inside the cage, but was cramped enough there was really no point in trying to cover myself.

The bellman smirked as Jason tipped him heavily to keep quiet. They both grabbed the cage and unloaded me on to a cart with the other luggage. I was rolled to a freight elevator, and in moments was rolled in to our beach front room. During the ride, I am sure my ass and pussy had been observed closely by the bellman, who stood behind my cage. I blushed the entire way, but also felt myself getting wet with arousal. I think I had discovered some exhibitionist tendencies on my wedding day.

After another generous tip, the bellman left, and Jason opened the cage. I crawled out and nearly fell; my arms and legs were so stiff from two hours in the cramped cage.

The room was beautiful, with the large windows opening to the beach. I was naked, standing in the middle of the room viewing the waves, and enjoying my freedom.

For the rest of the honeymoon I was naked. I was not allowed clothes at any time; the only place where I was allowed to go outside was our small private patio. It was not completely hidden. On occasion, people would see over the wall or hedge as I lay nude sunbathing. Other than a couple of guys who made some admiring remarks, there was no problem.

Our first day, Jason placed me in special arm restraints. My elbows were strapped behind me, though not tightly. My hands were placed in special bondage mittens which went up over my shoulders and buckled together behind my neck. My arms were folded against my sides, and held there firmly. It was uncomfortable, and I was completely without the use of my hands or arms, almost as if they had been amputated.

My first act as a bound and subservient slave was to unpack my husband's luggage (I had almost no luggage, as I was not allowed clothes on the trip). This proved difficult, as I had no hands or arms. With some effort, I was able to get his suitcase open by using my mouth, and then moved his clothes to a drawer.

After unpacking, Jason lay me down on the bed, spread my legs, and began exploring me. He knew my body well, but this was the first time he had examined it slowly, when I was bound and unable to resist. I felt so exposed and vulnerable, as he probed his fingers inside my pussy, and then deep inside my ass. With two fingers inside each hole, he felt and touched and massaged, as I strained to keep my legs spread as far apart as possible and moaned with increasing arousal. My hips began to move to help him stroke me, my nipples were hard and my eyes glazed over as I stared up, totally absorbed by his constant, deep exploration.

My breathing had become labored as I strained, trying to get him to stroke my clit so I could come. But as I thought I felt an orgasm approach, he pulled out, and left me lying unsatisfied on the bed.

"Jason. Please? I was so close; would you please make me cum?" I pleaded in a respectful but urgent voice. He smiled kindly.

"My dear, you must learn that you are here for my pleasure, not the other way around."

He removed his clothes, slowly and deliberately. I admired him as he stripped in front of me. I have always loved his body, he is very fit. As he pulled his pants off, I could see his cock was erect.

Jason has a large cock. Not huge, but substantial. Erect, it can look a little intimidating, though I love to feel filled by him when he is inside me, pushing deep.

He took me, and rolled me over on the bed, face down. Grabbing my ankles he pulled, dragging me back until my hips reached the edge of the bed, and spreading my legs wide at the same time. His fingers probed my ass once again, and I realized what he was about to do.

It came suddenly, firmly, as his cock pressed against my ass and shoved. I gasped and tried my best to relax, pushing against him as I had learned to do. It hurt, and I squirmed in my arm bindings, but was unable to do anything but take him in as he pushed deeper and deeper. Once he had pushed all the way in, and cries had quieted to low moans, he began shoving in and out. I felt my ass being pulled out as it clung to his withdrawing cock, until he shoved in again.

Each stroke hurt a little less as my muscles and flesh relaxed and adapted, but I was still grunting in pain when he increased the speed of his thrusts. The pain, my inability to move, the feeling of him inside me driving to his climax so quickly… they all built inside me until I was ready to orgasm myself.

And so, when his final thrusts plunged deep into my ass, is cock hardened and convulsing as he moaned and grunted, spurting inside my colon, I was crying out in my own expression of a painful, pleasurable orgasm.

The experience was amazing. The feeling of exposure, of helplessness, followed by violation, and then the mixture of pain and pleasure together…

This honeymoon was going to be a very different experience than I had imagined.

Wedding Party

2009-02-03T21:24:00.000-08:00

As we entered the house, Jason had me stand and follow him to the reception area. The reception was set up in the game room of our home (we have a rather large house). Tables were set up along the side with food, music was playing and a general party atmosphere was helped by the decorations.

Apparently, I was to be one of the decorations.

Followed by the rest of the guests (we only had about 10 including the minister), we went to the center of the room where the reception line was to be formed, with the guests greeting the new bride and groom.

Hanging from a pulley in the ceiling was a rope. At the end of the rope was a noose, ready and waiting. I looked at it in disbelief, not willing to accept what might be happening. But when Jason positioned me under the noose and slipped it over my head, I knew. I looked at him with big eyes as he pulled the rope up, and it tightened around my neck. I could feel it pressing, pulling me upward, cutting off circulation and air as it did. I instinctively rose up on my toes as the pressure became worse. My head tilted to the side, pressure from the rope pushing it over.

My breathing was labored and raspy, I danced at the end of the noose, my toes pushing up from the floor, and my face turning red. My tongue started to protrude, and I felt a pounding in my ears. If my hands had been free I would have clawed at the rope, but they were still buckled firmly behind my back.

I as I hung in this fashion, the wedding guests filed by, chatted with Jason and admired the pain his bride was experiencing. I could do nothing but gurgle a little as they walked by.

It took about 20 minutes for everyone to greet the bride and groom, after which the noose was lowered and I collapsed to the floor. My chest felt like it was burning, my neck was literally stretched, but I was recovering.

Jason rolled me over, and I saw he had worked on the rope. It no longer had a noose. Instead, it had a leg spreader at the end. Whatever he was going to do, it was going to be better than hanging there.

"Shoes off, legs apart, dearest Siobhan," he kissed me gently, and I kicked my shoes off and spread my legs. I felt excitement as I lay with the guests gathering around me to watch, a little like an exhibitionist. My shoes came off (I was glad of that, as the heels were getting to be painful). Jason placed my right ankle into the spreader, and buckled it securely. My left leg spread wide, and my full wedding gown skirt was pushed up to expose my ankle, and in it went to the other side of the spreader.

My wrists were still fastened behind my back, and I lay on them uncomfortably. Someone began pulling on the other end of the rope, and my legs slid up in to the air, slowly shifting my weight to my ass, then my back, and finally as my hips rose in to the air, to my shoulders.

As my hips went higher, the skirt from my wedding gown fell down over me. My legs were spread and lifted high in to the air, and when my head dragged across the floor and followed the rest of my body in to the air, the long heavy skirt fell all the way to the floor, covering my upper body and head completely.

Of course, as it did that, it also exposed everything from my waist down. I slowly rotated in place, swinging back and forth gently in my new inverted position as party decoration. Blood rushed to my head, and I worked on controlling my breathing as well as forgetting just how naked and exposed I was from the waist down. Or I should say the waist up, as I was currently upside down.

Hanging upside down is uncomfortable. If you have never done it, you should try it at least once. It doesn't start out too terrible, but as time goes on it gets harder to breath, the extra blood in your head pounds, and if you are restrained, cramps can set in. In my case, I was also naked with my legs spread wide, and very aware of this, as well as having the heavy wedding gown extended over my face which made the air rather stuffy. I wasn't in agony, but it sure was uncomfortable.

They party was well on its way, I could tell there was eating, drinking and dancing all around me, though I could not see it. Hands would sometimes brush against me, at times even coming to rest on my pussy. It was on display for all to enjoy and touch.

The exhibitionist in me was really getting off on this. At my own wedding party, I was hanging upside down and exposed for the pleasure of my husband and all our guests. I was so wet, all I wanted was someone to get a dildo inside me, or for Jason to let me down and fuck me. But I hung there, frustrated and in increasing discomfort, for about an hour.

Then my thoughts came true. My dress was removed. I hung naked, looking at the bottom half of all the guests, many of whom were pretty drunk. After a bit I was lowered, until I lay on the floor, catching my breath and letting the blood flow more naturally.

"Time to christen the new wife!" Someone in the party called out. Jason appeared, and gently lifted me up. He checked me to make sure I was OK after my inverted suspension, which warmed my heart. In spite of his abuse, he really did love me.

My hands were unbuckled and I was released from my restraints. Jason went to the side of the room and got a chair, which he moved to the center of the room. He unzipped his pants, and sat in the chair.

Instinctively, I knew what to do.

I knelt, taking his cock in my hands, and bowed before him. There, before the entire wedding party, I took him in my mouth, and slid his cock all the way down my throat, slowly, carefully, feeling every inch of him until the head tickled my tonsils and made me gag. Even then I kept my throat open, and used the gagging reflect to massage his cock, which rapidly became hard and filled my mouth and throat completely.

I slid back, letting his cock slide out until my lips encircled the head, and my tongue stroke the very tip. He jerked a little and I slid the cock back down, and kept the slow, consistent sliding motion going as I felt him pushing his cum from deep down, making its way closer and closer to ejaculation.

The entire wedding party surrounded us, watching my performance as I gave him the best blow job any of them had ever seen in their lives. My hands held and played with his balls, lifting and manipulating them in the way I knew he loved. He spread his legs wide, moved his hips forward and moaned.

As he approached orgasm, I increased my movements, the intensity of my tonguing, gagging on him at the deepest, sliding my tongue along the base and glans of his huge penis. I could feel the contractions begin, deep below his scrotum, and as the last moment, just before he spurted, I pulled his cock out and stroked him with my hand.

He shot his load over my face, there, in our game room, with 10 people watching. His ejaculation lasted forever, more than I had ever seen before. I felt his creamy cum covering my face, my cheeks, and up my nose. When he was done I was covered, slimed completely, and he was sitting exhausted in his chair as I slowly stroked his cock to bring him down.

The minister raised his glass of wine, and said in a loud voice "You may kiss the bride! To Siobhan, a most beautiful and talented bride, on this her christening as slave!"

Eventually, the drinking and revelry came to an end. The time to depart on our honeymoon had arrived. Our SUV was in the drive out front.

"Jason, dear, should I go get dressed and pack the car with our suitcases? It is almost time to go," I suggested sweetly to my new husband/master. He smiled, and kissed me.

"Our luggage is already packed. And no, you don't need to get dressed," he smirked and then moved to the side of the room. When he returned, he was carrying a cage, large enough for a big dog. On the outide, there was a hand written sign, that said "Just Married".

I knew what was intended. I was not going to be treated as a wife on my honeymoon so much as a favored pet, or true slave.

I sighed with happiness, knelt down and climbed in to the cage.

The honeymoon had begun.

Wedding Ceremony

2009-01-29T20:19:00.000-08:00

I followed Jason and Elena up the stairs, and Elena guided me to the master bedroom, where I was to dress and be ready for the wedding / enslavement ceremony.

All was ready for the wedding, the few guests would arrive in a couple of hours. I simply needed to dress, put on makeup, do my hair, and eat a little something. In other words, I needed to hurry.

I was nervous, and so glad Elena was there to help me. Elena grabbed a breakfast roll and some milk for me. While I munched on that, she opened several boxes that had been delivered earlier in the week. She took out some specially made panties to start. They were white, lacy, and very minimalistic, covering little in front and converging to a single thong strip through my ass cheeks.

Next came stockings, which were pulled up each leg slowly to make sure they didn’t bunch and appeared smooth and tight. They were sheer white, with lace at the top. A white garter belt went around my waist and held them up.

The came the dreaded corset. This was something truly unique to this wedding. Made of a heavy cloth ribbed with metal stays, it was pure white, lacy, and extremely tight and uncomfortable. Elena wrapped it around me. I raised my arms up over my head, and felt it go around my waist and chest like a soft body cast. Elena fastened the initial hooks while I held my breath. When it was in place, the top pressed my breasts up like a bra, though it didn’t cover my nipples.

I breathed some, and then Elena started lacing the back of the corset. She started at the bottom, pulling and tightening the laces, working her way up, pulling more and more tightly as she reached the top. At each yank I thought the squeezing would press my internal organs out my throat, until the next yank seemed to press on them even harder.

“Oh, god… Elena… you are doing it too tightly! I won’t be able to walk, or breathe!”

“Siobhan, dear, you know the instructions. The laces are to be pulled until the cloth meets in back. It has been measured very specifically, and I am sure Jason would not allow this if it wasn’t possible. Remember, this isn’t supposed to feel good. It is an act of submission and obedience.”

I knew what she meant. The corset was to be an instrument of suffering for me. My first, really. I would be suffering for him during the ceremony. If I couldn’t take this, there was no point in going through with the wedding.

I sucked in the air and felt the metal stays dig in to my flesh as Elena tightened the last laces. Tears came to my eyes, but it was done. I lowered my arms, and admired my shape in the mirror. I had to admit, I looked incredibly sexy, which made me feel sexy. It also hurt, as if a 100 pound weight was pressing on my stomach and chest.

The dress was next. The most lovely part of the whole process, this dress was a beautiful traditional gown, white satin with lace covering it, designed to match the corset. It rose and barely covered my breasts. I knew I would have to be careful, leaning over would expose my nipples though I could not imagine bending over in the corset. In fact, I couldn’t think about sitting in the corset.

Elena helped me with shoes, as it was impossible for me to reach my feet. The shoes were a beautiful white patent leather, shiny, with six inch heels. Jason loved heels, and I was used to balancing in them. In fact, I had even worn ballet boots around the house on several occassions. I would walk carefully, but I could manage.

The mirror showed a beautiful woman, dressed as a bride and looking as radiant as any bride could be. The shoes and corset made the outfit uncomfortable, but I also felt exhilirated. I was going to make Jason so proud of me, and be the envy of every guest. I felt sexier and more beautiful than I had ever felt.

The next half hour was spent with makeup; Elena was wonderful helping, and the result was a very natural look that hid all my facial flaws without looking artificial. I kissed her hard, on the lips, in thanks.

“Siobhan… I sure am going to miss you. I hope Jason lets us play, I will so… ” She began to cry.

Elena was not only my best friend, she was my lover. Though once I was enslaved to Jason, my relationship with her would be at his whim.

“Elena, don’t worry. Jason is not cruel. Well, he is a little, at times. But he will let us be together, I am sure of it.” We hugged and kissed again, playing with tongues but making sure my makeup would not be messed.

The veil went on, and we were ready. Or so I thought.

One last box, Elena opened it and out came a beautiful leather binder. A leather collar for the neck, a strap down the back that ended just below the shoulder blades in two wrist cuffs.

I was to be bound at the ceremony. I should have expected this.

The collar went on, and once comfortably tight around my neck, Elena locked it in place with a small padlock. I didn’t see any key for the lock, I presumed Jason had it.

I placed my arms behind my back and Elena pulled them up higher, getting them into place for the wrist cuffs. They were tight as she locked them, but the leather was soft and supple, and not too uncomfortable.

Now we simply had to wait for the guests to arrive and the ceremony to begin.

We stood in the living room, looking out at the beautiful back yard. It was decorated in flowers, red and white ones, which green ivy strung through latticework. At the end of a short walkway through the grass stood Jason, his friend Steve, and the minister. The minister had been interesting to find, but we finally found just the right guy who was willing to marry and preside over a willing enslavement. Eight guests lined the walkway, ready for us to join them.

As music played, Elena walked down the pathway and stepped to the side opposite Steve. I then walked down the path, my arms bound behind me, my beautiful dress covering the severe corset, my head bowed in a submissive attitude. I walked very slowly, because the very high heels were difficult to manage with the restraint corset and my arms cuffed behind me. When I reached the front, I turned and faced Jason, though I continued to keep my head bowed.

The minister began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are hear today to witness the joining together of these two individuals in a binding relationship, born of love and desire. More binding, closer, and more intimate than any mere marriage, this man and woman are to be joined together as man and wife, and as master and slave. Let none here take this lightly, for it is a commitment of the highest order for both Jason and Siobhan.”

He looked at me, and addressed me.

“Please kneel before your master.”

I knelt slowly, trying not to fall over. I kept my head bowed, and looked at Jason’s shoes. The corset dug in to my flesh under my arms, though the cramps in my calves from the high heels left once I was kneeling.

The minister addressed Jason, and had him repeat:

“I, Jason, take you, Siobhan, to be my wife, my slave, my faithful submissive and my love from this day forward. In the presence of our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful and fair master in all things, to train and discipline you, and to care for you as my dear possession. I promise to to treat you fairly, to guide you in my will, and to cherish your submission for as long as we both shall live.”

In turn, I was addressed and repeated my vow:

“I, Siobhan, take you, Jason, to be my husband, my master, my owner and my love from this day forward. In the presence of our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful slave, to obey your will at all times, and submit to your training and discipline to my best ability. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and obey, to serve and to cherish you as my master for as long as we both shall live.”

Kneeling in front of people, dressed in white, bound and squeezed, submitting and giving up my freedom to this man before me, I felt like I was about to explode. It was the most incredible feeling of happiness and arousal. I wanted him to take me, ravage me, have his way with me and then discipline me, hurt me, make me suffer for his pleasure, right then. But I took my vow seriously, and knelt before him, awaiting his will.

The minister asked “Do you have the ring?”

Jason answered, “I do.”

The next moment, I felt him reaching down, taking my chin for me to look up. He was reaching down with a circular thin metal ring, about 6 inches in diameter. He slipped it around my neck, and snapped it in to place in the back. It was a slave collar, a thin metal one.

The minister addressed me. “Do you have your ring?”

“Yes, sir.” I felt Elena slip the ring in to the palm of my hand where it was fastened immobile behind my back.

“Stand and place it on his finger.”

I rose obediently, turned around with my back to him so he could give me his hand, and slipped the ring on to his finger. I turned back to him, and for the first time in the ceremony, looked at him full in the face. He was smiling at me with the biggest grin, full of love and and joy and happiness and anticipation. It made me smile as well, grinning and showing him just how wonderful this day was.

“You may… kiss the bride,” said the minister. “Or just about anything else you want to do with her now, I suppose!”

Jason kissed me deeply, and as I melted in his arms I was the happiest I had ever been in my life.

I was his wife, and his slave. He was my husband and my master. We were complete, joined together as we were meant to be. My breathing was fast, my breasts heaving up and down as we turned to the cheers of the guests.

Jason turned to me, connected a leash to my collar, and forced me to my hands and knees. I followed him, crawling behind, as he led me out of the back yard and in to the house.

It was time for the wedding reception and party; followed by the honeymoon.

Which was going to be about as unusual as any that could be imagined.

To Suffer For You

2009-01-29T19:59:00.000-08:00

My wish is to suffer for you.

My wish is to please you by suffering, for in suffering, I can please you completely, proving my devotion.

Many times I have contemplated the nature of suffering. When in your presence, I suffer silently with the small devices you use. When not in your presence, I suffer secure in the knowledge that my suffering is for you and gives you comfort, where ever you are.

My suffering is my offering to you, the fulfillment of my desire to become completely and totally yours. I wish to become an extension of your will, the focus of your lust, an icon symbolic of complete and total love. For this purpose I record my experiences for you. To announce that I am yours, to share my suffering with the world so that my slavery will acquire its full and complete meaning.

To be allowed to serve you in the ultimate way.

To suffer, for you.

Wedding's Eve

2009-01-29T19:57:00.001-08:00

The wedding was the next day. I had anticipated it for so long.

It was three years since I met Jason, and in that time had come to realize just how wonderful he was, how my relationship had opened me. I blossomed in life, grew in my desires, explored new aspects of myself, and finally knew in my heart exactly what I wanted to be.

His slave.

No, not his slave in the traditional sense - not someone that owned me and then put me out to work in the fields without seeing me again. It was not that I wanted to become simply a tool for him.

But I did want to become completely devoted and dedicated to him, so be a part of his body and will, to submit to him completely. In marrying him, I wanted to turn myself over to him and let him take control over me. Nothing would make me happier.

So, the wedding. Tomorrow. It was going to be unusual, as it was a combination wedding and commitment to subservience and the slave/master relationship. Together with several other couples who would observe, I was to turn myself over to Jason. He was to become, officially, my master.

It was Friday and I was trying to get the final bits of work done before leaving on the honeymoon. As director of IT infrastructure for a large company, a number of people worked for me and my responsibilities were extensive. I am a professional woman, held in respect by my colleagues and responsible for significant budgets and projects.

But I was preparing to enter a life of servitude, where I would lose myself, my identity, to someone else. At least… outside the workplace. The excitement and anticipation was almost more than I could bear.

I had already been living with Jason for a year, and had adopted many of the trappings that would become my life. He already dominated me, and I submitted to him at all times. But the wedding tomorrow would cement our relationship, making it legally and psychologically permanent. The feeling of desire for him, for the finality of this step, overwhelmed me and distracted me as I reviewed network layouts, approved specifications, and made recommendations on budgets. All through the day, I felt sexual. I felt aroused. I felt… wet, between my legs.

I talked with one of my leads, listening and making a decision about something, but my eyes were glazed and I was not paying attention. While this step was an emotional one, I felt so incredibly aroused I could not find a comfortable position to sit. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, my lead looking at them (I have rather nice legs) and probably wondering if I was trying to seduce him. At one point, after he left, I actually reached down and touched myself for a little while. I couldn’t help it.

My hand slipped down, trying to find a way to get access to my pussy. I was wearing a skirt, it was too tight to slip my hand in at the waist… and I couldn’t touch myself by reaching up from below. Not without pulling the skirt up, at least. Moments later, and my skirt was hiked up to my hips, and my hand was firmly massaging my clit under my desk. All I could think of was going home to Jason, being bound and taken by him.

Finally, the time came. Things were finished at work, at least enough to hold the dogs at bay until I returned a week later. I got my computer and purse, locked the door to my office and left. The drive home went faster than usual, I guess I had a little lead foot syndrome that evening.

Walking through the door, I dumped my purse and laptop on the side entry table, and walked in. Jason was there, and greeted me with a hug and kiss. His touch was sensual as it always is, and I melted in his arms. We ate dinner together, chatting, both anticipating the events the next day and the glorious honeymoon we had planned. I cleaned up afterward, making sure the house looked good.

When things were ready in the house, Jason took my hand and looked me in the eyes.

“My dear… are you sure about this step? You know I am devoted to you, but by making this commitment you are letting yourself go. Giving yourself to me, completely. Are you ready? Truly ready?” In answer, I kissed him and then knelt in front of him, my head bowed down.

He took my hand and led me lovingly to the basement door. I had no idea what was going on. He opened the door and we descended in to the dimly lit, austere room below the house. He instructed that I was to stand in the middle of the room, and remove all my clothes.

My hips wriggled as the skirt came off, and then my top pulled over my head, my dark hair falling mussed over my shoulders. Nylons were next, and then bra, letting my breasts feel the cool air. Panties were last, and the same sense of cool nakedness spread across my entire body.

He stepped forward, took my clothes and then carefully removed my jewelry. A ring, my watch, and a necklace were all taken from me. I removed my ear rings.

In a few moments, I had shed the trappings of my work persona, and stood completely naked and exposed before him. He looked approvingly for a moment, touched my breasts with a caress, and then picked up a heavy metal collar that was attached by a chain to a ring in the floor. Raising the collar up to my neck he slipped it on, latching it in to place at the same time he kissed my cheek.

My body shuddered with pleasure, just slightly, at the feeling of the cold metal and his warm fingers and lips. I stood motionless as he walked behind me and snapped a padlock in to place. I was now chained to the concrete floor of the basement. My head bowed, my long hair covering my face as I blushed.

“As you may know… it is bad luck for the bride and groom to sleep together before the wedding. I am afraid you will have to remain here tonight. There is a dog dish of water over by the stairs. Sleep well, my most faithful love,” and with that he turned and climbed the stairs. Just before he closed the door at the top, he flipped the light switch off, plunging the room in to darkness.

I trusted Jason, but being alone in the dark, sitting on the cold hard concrete floor, freaked me out a little. I tested the metal collar, and found it heavy and absolutly secure. I pulled the chain, and moved away from it, testing its limits. It was secure in the concrete, and my limits of movement were about 5 feet. I could stand in place just above its anchor, or by lying on the floor extend out about five feet. Enough to reach the water bowl, but not much else.

I lapped water and sat in the dark, my arms on my knees. Without something behind me supporting my back, I was uncomfortable, and lay down on my side, and then on my back. My chain clinked as I moved. I raised my knees. My eyes adjusted to the darkness very slowly, and I could see basic grey shapes, but very little detail.

Laying secured to the ground as I was, naked and exposed on a concrete floor, I felt so completely aroused. I was chained like a dog, but the rest of my body was completely free. So… what did I do? You guessed. My right hand found its way between my legs, and my left started playing with my nipples. I idly masturbated on the floor, passing the time, enhancing and embracing my experience of being restrained in preparation for my wedding the next day.

Three or four orgasms later, I began to drift, and finally feel asleep.

The night passed fitfully. I was used to sleeping in a bed, with Jason next to me. The hard floor, the cold, it made sleep difficult and I woke a number of times. In the middle of the night, I was thirsty… and felt for the dog dish. Of course, in the dark, I bumped in to it and spilled most of the water.

But of more concern were my other bodily needs. I was chained in the middle of the basement without so much as a chamber pot. At that point in time, I really would have liked a chamber pot. I held it for as long as I could, but eventually found a place on the floor as far away from where I was sleeping as possible, and peed.

Afterward, I spread my legs and dragged my pussy on the floor to wipe it. Again, I was forced to behave like a dog.

The feeling of degredation was beginning to sink in. Jason and I had played before, experimented with domination and bondage and I was absolutely sure I wanted to do this. But at the same time… the feeling I was experiencing, the feeling of being naked and helpless and forced to act like an animal, it was new. Powerful. Arousing. Weird.

I returned to my spot on the concrete stretched my legs wide apart and fingered myself to another orgasm before slipping back asleep.

Light was creeping in between the cracks in the door at the top of the stairs, when I awoke. It was morning, and I heard Jason walking around upstairs. I had to pee again, and was deciding what to do when the door opened and Jason entered and descended the stairs. Behind him was Elena, my maid of honor, already dressed for the ceremony. Her dress was a black and white number that showed off her beautiful figure, as well as accenting a perfect complexion.

I moved back to the center of the basement so I could stand, as the chain clinked. Elena knew of the special nature of Jason and my relationship, but had never seen me restricted or bound like this. I stood in complete and abject embarrassment, with my head down, hair hanging over my face.

Jason informed me that the time to prepare for the wedding had come.

“Please sir, I need to pee. May I go to the restroom?”

Jason sniffed, and with a snide voice said, “It appears that you have already soiled your living area. You might was well do it here.”

I looked up at him for a moment, uncertain whether he was serious. But his face told me, yes, he was serious. I moved over to the area where I had peed the night before, and squatted. It was hard, Elena was watching me the entire time, with Jason, and I had to close my eyes to block them out while I forced myself to relax. When it did come, it spread all over the floor and my feet, though the relief was as wonderful as humiliating.

I walked back to the center of the room.

“Well, if you are finished making a mess of yourself, I am going to turn you over to Elena, who will help you get ready for the ceremony,” Jason kissed me on the cheek gently, and then unlocked my collar, letting the chain fall to the floor.

My wedding day had begun.