The Wall Punishment

 I ran across this photo recently and it brought back strong memories. You'd think this position is not a big deal just looking at it, but nope-- it is a miserable stress position.

The poor girl pictured here is undergoing a disciplinary punishment position that I'm familiar with. It's more diabolical than it looks.  I've been placed in this position a number of times by my ex-husband, some years back, as a form of discipline.

So let's go over this position, starting at the bottom and the legs.

Put the victim (me, is the way I look at it because I am remembering the time when this happened to me) on her (my) knees facing the wall. The position of the knees is important, because the closer to the wall, the easier it is. Conversely, the further from the wall, the more difficult and stressful the position. My ex would usually put my knees a couple of feet from the wall, which was difficult.

Believe it or not this poor girl's knees are far enough from the wall it's going to be an uncomfortable strain, quickly.

Second and quite important-- notice her feet and toes are off the floor. This is the key part of the position, making it truly torturous.  My ex would require my feet and toes to be off the floor, and every time I would touch the floor I'd earn a cane stroker on my buttocks, later.

A major part of the victim's weight is on the knees, as you might imagine. This isn't too bad initially, but as is the case with any stress position, it becomes painful quickly. When I'd be in this wall position my knees would start hurting within 30 seconds. Enough to make me whimper, if I let myself.

Keeping the feet off the floor is not natural, and you have to strain to keep them up, causing muscle tiredness rather quickly. I remember it was almost impossible for me to keep my feet off the floor from the moment I got in the position, and had to constantly work at it.

With the knees away from the wall and the feet up off the floor, a big part of my weight would end up pressing on my forehead. It doesn't look like it from the photo, but it feels like a huge amount of weight is pressing on the forehead.

The weight and pressure on the forehead isn't horrible, but something that isn't obvious at all is the strain on the neck. If a big chunk of weight is on the forehead, that weight is also being supported by the neck.

Believe it or not, this was the worst part of the punishment. My neck would be straining, tense, supporting pressure, and I'd be concentrating on keeping my feet up, and the strain of these two locations would be miserable, rapidly building and causing cramping and pain as the muscles in my legs and neck began getting weak from constant exertion. 

The rules of the position state that I have to keep my hands (arms) behind my back, which makes sense because I shouldn't be able to use them to support me. The whole point behind this torture position is to cause increasing strain and cramping in the neck and legs-- supporting with the hands and arms would contradict that.

When my ex would put me in this position, I'd usually ask that he handcuff me, which just guaranteed I wouldn't accidentally bring my hands forward to push against the wall or floor. Which I would get some more cane strokes for, so I tried not to do that too.

I couldn't maintain this position for long. You'd think it would be easy-- nope. It was a fucking miserable, painful position, and any deviation from the proper posture would earn me cane strokes later. I remember actually crying, tears running down my cheeks, when in this position. I begged him to let me go.

I usually spent about five minutes in this position, though I know I've spent as much as fifteen or twenty.

Part of the discipline and punishment was having my buttocks exposed while in this position. Notice the girl in the photo has her panties pulled down. That was true of me, as well. If I was wearing pants, they'd be pulled down my thighs. If wearing a dress, my skirt would be pulled up and panties pulled to my knees. And yes, my ex would take advantage by fondling my ass, spreading the cheeks and fingering my asshole and perhaps reaching to my vagina. This made the whole thing humiliating, too.

When in this position, I'd always have failures, usually my toes touching the floor. Each touch earned a stroke. My ex never gave me the strokes when I was in the position because he'd want me to concentrate on doing the disciplinary position properly for as long as possible. 

After my time in the position was up, I'd always have at least one or two cane strokes coming, sometimes as many as ten or fifteen. Cane strokes hurt like hell, my the way. 

When he would finally release me from the position I'd collapse on the floor and recover for a minute or two, beg his forgiveness for whatever transgression I'd committed that had earned me time against the wall, and then move over to the bed or table (my panties still around my knees) and bend over for my strokes.

Yeah, cane strokes hurt like hell, and leave nasty welts. On a good day I'd get two or three. On a bad day, like I said... fifteen. More tears.

I always thought he rather liked it when I cried.

I will clarify something-- the wall punishment is a disciplinary technique, it doesn't actually fit well with my bondage kink. It was my ex's kink. As a result, I haven't been in this position in years.

New Years Day

I woke slowly. My body was so relaxed, so comfortable. The covers were warm, toasty in an idyllic way.

No work today. Just a holiday.

My girlfriend was in the bed next to me, sleeping. It was about 8:00 in the morning, we were being lazy. The night before had been a very quiet New Year's Eve and we'd gone to bed after drinking some champagne.

My girlfriend rolled over, scooting closer. She was awake too and she spooned me. I am the taller one, but it feels so good to have her spoon me, to feel her naked body next to mine. She was warm and soft and the feeling of comfort and love was perfect.

Her hand rested on my hip. Her face was in my hair, breathing warmth onto my neck. I had been thinking about getting up, but now? No. No way. I wanted this.

Her hand moved. Stroked my hip, my waist. I sighed.

Her hand slipped further over my hip, to the front.

Oh. 

Oh, my. Is she...

Yes. Yes she is.

Her fingers crawled down between my legs, pulling the hand along, reaching further, trying to find my soft and sensitive spots. I sighed again, a little harder this time.

When she found my clit I let out a little moan. Or was it a grunt. A grunting-moan. 

Her hand needed a bit more room. I shifted slighting, moving my top leg (the right one) out just a bit, making access a little easier.

Her fingers stroked me slowly. Once she found my clit she avoided it; instead she stroked, gently touching, all around it. Sliding down, playing with my lips, spreading them, stroking the outer folds with her finger tips.

She knows exactly how to get me going. I was getting wet very quickly.

Another moan, and I gave up pretending, I lifted my leg up and put it back slightly so it rested on her leg. This gave her complete access to me. 

She took it, moving her body in tighter to mine, her breasts pressing up against my shoulder blades, her arm stretched around my waist and down between my legs, her fingers spreading my pussy lips, and a finger went inside.

Oh, Oh my god. The finger slipped up inside me and I couldn't help it, my hips moved a little, encouraging it, trying to get my clit to rub on her hand.

She had mercy on me, and began to rub the sides of my clit, one finger on each side, sliding up and down. On the deep slides, two fingers would go over and then slide inside. 

I reached back, I wanted to kiss her, to engage, but she wouldn't have it. She was fingering me, masturbating me, I was to remain passive, accept it. That was clear. I relaxed and let her do her work. sliding over my now throbbing clit, at times plunging into my pussy, fulfilling my need to be penetrated.

Her fingers were expert and played me like an instrument. Before long my hips were moving in perfect rhythm with her movements, the stimulation was building the feelings inside me, and my breathing was coming hard and faster.

The orgasm surged and flooded my body. She was kissing my ear, my neck, fingering me, and I was at her mercy. The pleasure spiked, peaked and I made a little mewling noise as the warmth flooded my body.

She could tell, it was pretty obvious when I came, and she kept up the stimulation, the stroking, until the orgasm began to fade. Then she slowed, backing away from my clit, moving to caressing, fondling, bringing me down easily. 

I lay exhausted, and she brough her fingers up to my lips.

I sucked them, tasting myself on them. 

We lay there like that for a while, and eventually I dozed.

It was the best start to the New Year I could have imagined. 

Breast Torture Ramblings

My breasts are almost this size

My breasts seem to get tortured a lot. The pain is integral to my bondage experiences, and my boobs more than their fair share.

When I am subbing and letting a dom have their way, the point behind the entire scene is to relinquish control, to be bound so there is literally nothing I can do but just take it. To endure. The bondage is the point, the focus, the kink. I want to feel the restriction, the struggle, the pain urging me to get free and run, but being completely unable to do so. 

Pain is your body informing your brain and the rest of your mind that something in your body is being damaged (or about to be damaged) and urging you to do whatever it takes to stop that damage. It is a direct connection to the brain saying, run like hell. Beg, run, escape, pull back, do whatever it takes to stop the damage. The worse the pain, the greater the urge to do something to stop it. Self preservation.

Because my kink is to be tied up, disabled, secured in such a way that I can not escape, then anything that makes me want to escape even more enhances my sense of helplessness and directly feeds my kink.

So when I am tied up and experience pain, my mind wants to get free. But I can't. I am most helpless, most at someone else's mercy when they are invoking pain.

Tie my boobs purple

So I don't actually like pain, but it does trigger what I do enjoy about being restrained-- the feeling of helplessness.

So yeah, my breasts are sort of on the larger side. Not huge, but big enough every dom sees them and immediately wants to play with them. Pretty much guaranteed.

Oh goody! Let's tie them up!

Honestly, having my boobs tied up tightly so they bulge like balloons is humiliating to me. I hate it. Binding my breasts usually doesn't hurt too much unless the tie is especially tight; though they can ache after a while. Blood flow is restricted. But having my boobs tied is first humiliating, and secondly a harbinger of nasty things to come. 

Because guys can't just let bulging, bulbous tied boobs alone. 

Breast bondage really gets to me mentally, because it is embarrassing, I feel deformed and humiliated by my soft breasts being manipulated and tied to make them look completely different and weird. And of course I know the guy is going to start in on them any moment.

Anticipation is one of the worst (and best) things in a good session.

It seems as if my boobs have more options for torture than any other area of the body. I am amazed by this, but it is true. There's a lot of stuff that can happen to those two soft bulbous extremities on my chest.

Nipple clamps are perhaps the most standard method of torture for women out there. I've had my nipples clamped more times than... well, I have no idea. But they always get clamped in conjunction with some sort of sexual situation and quite frequently they are clamped when I am being directly sexually stimulated.

Large binder clamps, applied behind nipples

The result? Clamped nipples are now associated with sexual arousal. Put a nipple clamp on me now and I get wet. Cause and effect. It just happens. 

There are lots of clamps types out there. Clothespins are easy; paper binder clips, the big black ones designed to hold larger stacks of paper, are the nastiest, most painful things. I fucking hate those. I had one dom that used those repeatedly and they damaged my nipples so they were bleeding long after the session. So much so I had to call a halt to nipple play for several months to make sure everything healed.

Binder clamps applied on nipple

Those paper binder clips seem to get used a lot because everyone has them laying around. The larger ones aren't as painful. The smaller ones are tighter and can cause me to break down and begin begging for mercy and willing to do any fucking thing they want to get them off.

Of course, where you put the clamp matters a lot. Most of the time the clamp goes on my nipple area but is pushed back a way, so it comes down and presses on the areola or even a little further back. That's a lot easier to take and with something gentler like a clothespin can actually not hurt hardly at all.

Clamping the actual nipple, like, the protruding small nipple and not the areola behind, that hurts a lot worse. Again, do that with some of those binder clips and I will be begging, truly begging to get them off. Want a BJ? ATM? DP? No problem just take them off!

A couple of times guys have told me to pull them off myself. That is fucking cruel. I mean, the process of pulling nipple clamps off is fucking painful, especially tight ones. It's sort of a predicament bondage situation, you know? You can leave the clamps on and let them hurt. The pain will slowly go dull, but you know that's not good because the blood flow has ended to the nipples and that's why you can't feel the pain as sharply. So you gotta get those clamps off.

But then, do you go through the pain immediately, the double or tripple the pain to pull them off yourself? Or just wait it out? 

And what if you pull it off and he laughs and just puts them right back on, all that self inflicted pain for nothing? Yes, I've had that happen. 

Doms can be bastards.

The other main kind of nipple clamp I've had used on me (besides the guys that buy actual clamps made to be nipple clamps), are skirt hangars. Those aren't used as much because guys don't have skirt hangers laying around. But they are common enough.

Skirt hanger with handy hook for added pain

Those can be fucking painful as well (depending on the hanger), and they are perfect for hanging weights from. The clamps on skirt hangers need to be relatively tight so the material doesn't slip out. which makes them painful.

The real problem with hanger clamps is they have a ready made hook for hanging things on. For pulling, stretching, distending my poor abused nipples.

Yes, weights can actually amplify the pain quite a bit, and it doesn't take much to do it. Anything pulling on clamped nipples hurts worse.

There are enough household items that work quite well as nipple clamps there doesn't seem to be much reason to actually buy custom nipple clamps, but there are lots of different clamps designed specifically to cause my nipples pain. I've had a few of them applied over the years.

Clover clamps with chain and weights

I won't go over them all, because frankly there are too many types. Basically, it all boils down to how hard is the pinching tension (adjustable ones usually can be adjusted to high levels of pain) and how large is the surface. Clamps that have minimal surface area are bound to bring tears to my eyes (much to the enjoyment of my dom, usually).

Oh, and again-- any clamp that can take weights will increase the pain quite a bit, thus the chain on many pro clamps (though a hanger does just as well).

I've never used a safe word with nipple clamps, though I have decided not to allow certain types after wearing them for a while. Any clamp that has teeth is a non-starter.

Another favorite activity of doms in love with my boobs-- beating them raw. 

If I am going to be whipped, I prefer my back. It seems to take it better. Next would be my ass and upper thighs. From there we go to more sensitive areas, and the breasts are one of my least favorite places to be flogged. Which also means it is my dom's most favorite place to flog me. 

The right way to cane breasts

If you are going to flog my tits, tie me down because I will move. I will wriggle and wrestle and try to get them out of the way and that's just the facts. 

Can't help it. I am not into just standing and taking it. I will do my best to get away. That's fundamental. So tie me down, tie my tits in place, bracket them, do whatever it takes because I will not sit still for a boob flogging.

Strangely, most doms I've been with don't do that. They will  tie my wrists up over my head or something easy like that, then try to cane my boobs. Then wonder why they can't actually hit them that often. 

The best way is to lock my breasts down. Hardly anyone does that (maybe most don't have the equipment). 

The second way is to just whip the entire front of my body, which will get my boobs. I hate this, actually, because it is inaccurate and quite often the whip will strike my nipples. And yes, the nipples are much more sensitive to the pain from a single tail whip. Again, enough I will beg for it to stop (if my mouth is free, that is).

Tits get a beating all too often

One of my limits is no welts, cuts, bleeding, etc., where it can be seen if I am wearing street clothes. That means the breasts are a prime location to try and indulge in creating some nice raw red welts.

There's not much more I can say about beating my tits. Get them immobile unless you are just whipping everything in the area and don't care about accuracy. Hitting the nipples is in fact a lot more painful. The rest is general principles for canes, floggers and whips that apply to any area of my body. 

OK... so... I told you there's a lot of stuff that can and does happen to my poor boobs. We can go on.

Needles. Needles can go a lot of places in the body but the breasts are the best place to use them. Why? Because they are just big blobs of soft tissue. Needles don't actually do a lot of damage there. Other places, needles might go through muscle or tendons other body components you would rather not hit. 

A hard limit for me

But breasts? Oh my god, they are just made for needles. Small ones, big ones, short ones, long ones. 

Yeah, there's a whole kink involving nailing breasts (I won't allow that because it will scar and there is a much higher chance of infections, so it's a hard limit). I can't see me ever doing something like that. Nope.

I will confess. I would like to make needles a hard limit. I hate them, they are psychologically difficult for me to take. Seeing them beforehand, watching them go in, it makes me feel like having a breakdown.

But my own rules won't allow me to do that. My hard limit rules say I will do anything that doesn't harm me long term, that will heal quickly, and has little or no risk. 

Needles can draw blood and hurt and are psychologically quite distressing, but the hole left by them heals really fast and completely. And in the breasts, they won't do permanent damage. Heck, needles are used all the time-- we go get blood drawn at the docs all the time, so I have no excuse to ban them from active scenes.

So yeah, I get needles in the breasts. I wrote a post (you can look it up) describing the first time I got needles in my boobs. It was traumatizing, mostly because of my own fear. 

Needles can hurt but to be honest they hurt less than a lot of other things. There's a sharp sort of burning pain when they first go in, but that fades quickly and is gone (for the most part). Unless the dom wiggles them, in which case I curse at him and he generally will stick another needle in my breasts to remind me who is in control and not to curse.

There's a limit to how large a gauge needle I will take, but just about any medical grade needle is OK. Well, not OK, I hate them, I will beg ahead of time for the dom to not use them. I'll promise to let him fuck me or to give him the best blow job ever, or let him fuck me in the ass, or whatever he wants. Just don't do the needles.

Never just one needle sigh

Begging doesn't usually work because the dom knows he can fuck me anyway when I am tied up.

Because needles hurt going in, but once in they tend to not hurt any more, there's always multiple needle. The whole process is very mental, very mind-game. The slow process of binding my breasts, of making sure I am secure and can't move around too much. Swabbing the breasts with alcohol to make sure there are no infections. Getting out the needles, playing with them, letting me see them as they are prepared. Watching them get swabbed. It can take forever and I am in tears by the time my dom gets to my breasts and plumps them and decides where the first needle with go... then changes his mind and goes to the other breast...

Finally the first needle goes in and I cringe and wriggle but there is nothing I can do. I am helpless and he's going to do this to me. If I am lucky he will massage my clit while he is slowly inserting the needles.

If I make too much noise during the procedure he will gag me. I hate/love being gagged. But I am never blindfolded. I must be able to see what is happening. 

Only one there

Oh-- one thing I do sort of put a restriction on is needles directly through the nipples. I do this because if I didn't, every guy would spend an hour ramming 20 needles into my nipple (it hurts a lot more there and they just like it). I am afraid of creating scar tissue and causing damage to my nipples, so I've generally said no to more than one needle in a nipple.

We aren't nearly done with all that my doms have done to my poor breasts. I wasn't kidding when I said that guys like to torture breasts more than any other part of the body. Even more than my pussy or ass. 

Electrical has become a preferred method of torture in just about all situations, including real torture at the hands of the police or whoever happens to want to break you. Most torture methods, ways of invoking pain in a BDSM scene, are lighter, kinder versions of torture that has been or is used to destroy people.

We play with strappado, bastinado, whippings, burning (e.g. hot wax). And we play with electricity, which is favored because it can really fucking hurt and still leave the victim in relatively good shape. And it is controllable. 

Doms like to put electrodes on various areas of the body, and the most popular places are inside the rectum, inside the vagina, and on the nipples. Yes, sometimes the sticky electrodes get place on the breasts themselves. That's actually better (not good, it can hurt like hell), than the nipples.

But no, the vast majority of the time a dom will clamp the electrodes right to my nipples and fire away.

There's a variety of things that directly effect the pain delivered by the electrodes, and the strength of the shock is only one of them.

The reason everyone loves shocking the nipples (my nipples) is because they are, in fact, a lot more sensitive. Certain areas of the body are in fact more sensitive than others. I've found my rectum (inside my ass), my vagina, and my nipples to be the most sensitive areas. A shock that is mildly uncomfortable on my hips or buttocks will cause me to squirm and scream on my nipples or up my ass.

Also, there's the conductivity of the skin area, usually because of moisture. If the electrodes have conductive gel or are wet (such as with body fluid inside my rectum), the shock is a lot more... effective. That means painful.

Shocks can be short and intense, or longer and less intense. Most TENS units have different modes, and often they cycle between a lower and higher intensity. So it always hurts, but will get worse for a bit, then ease off.

Nipple electrodes

Lower intensity shocks feel sort of tingly, and also give the sensation of pressure (weirdly enough). Most significant shocks will turn into a burn, eventually becoming extremely painful, sort of like something extremely hot has been pressed up against my flesh. 

There are two ways to set up electric nipples. One, clamp a positive electrode to one nipple, the negative to the other. The electricity runs from one nipple to the other, across the chest. Yeah, I know, this is awful, everyone says this is extremely dangerous because it can impact heart rhythm. 

Shock runs through the nipple

So the second method-- clamp the nipple with a positive electrode on top and the negative below, on the same nipple. That way the electricity runs through the nipple but not across the chest. 

For some reason, doms don't do this often. I think the main reason is laziness. It is so much easier to just clamp the two electrodes on the two nipples then watch me squirm and beg.

Either way hurts like hell.

One of the most excrutiating electrical pains I had was when I was tied up very security and had a positive and negative electrode clamped to my nipple (above and below). It was giving me irritating shocks that made me make faces, but it wasn't too bad.

Then the dom inserted two bare electrodes up my ass. Remember how the rectum is one of those moist
places inside the body that conducts really well? Yeah, well when he turned on the second TENS driving the wires up my ass, 

Well, the damn circuit completed between the positive electrode in my ass, and the negative one on my nipple and it felt like my ass and my right nipple were on fire. I jerked, tensed, screamed. I mean, a real scream (those happen sometimes). 

I screamed a couple of times before he pulled the wires out of my ass and things calmed down a bit. That taught me (and him) to be a little more aware of how electricity can flow.

There is one kind of breath torture I've never experienced, and it is a little strange I haven't. I think it is a big fetish with a lot of doms, but I think it is also something they are a little afraid of because they don't understand it and are afraid of body damage. I do respect that.

Being suspended by the breasts/

OK, I've had weight put on bound breasts before, but having 140 lbs of me suspended by those blobs of flesh on my chest? OK, if the situation arose it would probably fall within my limits and yes, I would allow it. 

Hanging by breasts

Well, OK, I'd been tied up and unable to do anything about it, which is the whole point, so it isn't like I would allow it so much as just endure it. But it could happen. But hasn't.

I have talked with a couple of women that have done it, and apparently it doesn't hurt as much as you might think. The sensation (which I've had before but not to that extent) is the feeling that your breasts, these two large bulbous blobs on your chest, might just be pulled off. The ropes are secured near the chest, behind most of the fatty breast tissue, so your boobs are put under a lot of pressure like balloons. Then when you go up in the air, it's like, you are floating, completely helpless in the air, and your boobs are stretching the flesh on your sides, under your arms, and there's pain but it isn't like, too awful.

Like I say, it might happen to me some day, but not yet. I don't ever talk about it in front of my dom because that is a sure fire way to make something happen.

I've been rambling here for a while. This wasn't a story like I usually do, just sort of some memories and thoughts about how obsessed guys seem to be about abusing my boobs.

What triggered this? Well, after a long hiatus away from my dom (personal life reasons), we got back together again and had a sort of date. But he had something special for my date.

Tack Bra Insert

A tack bra.

One of those things. Now, these are more common than you might think, partly because you can make them relatively easily. Get a bra, stick some tacks through it, get some poor woman to put it on.

I am sort of a perfect victim for the tack bra because my boobs are larger. The whole principle behind the tack bra is that it needs to have some pressure on it to actually push the tacks against the breasts. You can buy a bra that is too small, but that doesn't help too much. The key is to have big breasts (like mine) that actually need and use the bra for support. That way the tacks actually get pushed against the flesh.

Tack bras cause mild pain, but don't penetrate

You can't just buy a bra and shove tacks through it though. Do that, and the tacks just come out right away. They have to be secured in some way. There are two ways to do this-- first, you can use fabric glue to actually secure the tacks to the fabric. 

Second, you can use an insert, put the tacks through that and then put the insert into the bra. The bra then actually keeps the tacks in place and pushing against the breast skin.

Thing is about a tack bra, they don't work that well. Yes, they are uncomfortable. I went on the date with my dom, and he loved playing with me and snapping my bra straps and pressing my boobs with his hands, knowing it was driving the tacks in deeper. But that's it. They are no fun, but most tack bras are just that and nothing more-- uncomfortable. 

It's because tacks aren't sharp enough to actually penetrate the flesh. So yeah, it hurts, but it isn't bad enough we couldn't finish dinner together. My dom and me. 

When the date was over we went back to his place and he played with my breasts a little more. When he took the bra off my boobs had marks on them, but nothing had penetrated. It meant I was unhappy, I was distracted and uncomfortable (even in mild pain) during the entire evening because my clothes were designed to hurt me, but it could have been much worse.

So how do you make a tack bra really hurt? Wanna bring tears to my eyes and see fear in them?

Two ways. First, don't just have me wear the bra. Press them against my breasts. Have me lay down on my stomach, forcing me to lay on my breasts. Get some weight on them. That will drive the tacks in, and a lot of them will penetrate. I've had that done and it hurts and I will cry and I will beg you to let me up... only to have you push me down again because you like to see me cry.

Second, don't use tacks. Use needles. My dom has developed a fascination with lancets-- these are very small, short needles that are used to prick fingers when taking blood samples. They are very sharp and because they are very small you can embed them or glue them to things.

This terrifies me. Those lancets will penetrate the skin immediately, with little pressure. It will be like having dozens of needles all rammed into my flesh all at once.

I think he's working on a needle bra for me. If he wants me to wear one my only request is that I be completely bound and unable to move when he puts it on me.

More terrifying is that I think he may be working to develop some sort of bar or saddle or wooden pony with lancet needles. This gives me nightmares. I don't want that. I'd consider using a safe word, but I think it doesn't fall outside my limits. I'm scared. Truly.

OK, that's all the rambling for now.

Kidnap Memories: Part 2

This is a continuation of a post I made a while back; my girlfriend was out with her own dominatrix and I was alone masturbating in bed. When I masturbate, I tend to think about past lovers, past situations, and this time I was remembering the first time I'd done a weekend kidnap scene. The post turned out to be too long. So, here's the second half of it. Yes, I had to get along and masturbate and relive the memories in order to remember it properly. Believe it or not, masturbating helps me remember the details of my previous kink encounters.

Eric and Emma. A married couple. Eric was a rope artist, fairly good at what he did. Emma was a sub who loved kink and to be tied up. A good match, and they got married and were happy, as far as I know. They went on to expand their kink to generate porn for sale and make some money out of it. My experience with them was just as they were thinking of doing that but hadn't actually started a business yet.

In my earlier post I described how I had hooked up with Eric because he was a good rope artist and I rather enjoyed having scenes with him. He offered me money for a photoshoot, and then asked if I'd like to do a weekend-long kidnap scene. I was skeptical about both, but finally agreed.

Back to the scene. I'd been Eric and Emma's kidnapped sex slave for a day now, and spent the night sleeping in a closet. My wrists tied behind my back, a collar and leash locked on and fastened to the closet. And most annoyingly, a heavy cloth sack over my head.

I could breathe, but the air was stale and stuffy and getting fresh air was a chore. And of course I could see nothing. Sleeping in the close it was completely dark, of course, but the sack made it psychologically worse.

As it turned out, the threat of having my head sacked became one of the most effective threats and tools Eric used while keeping me in his house. If I gave him a hard time about something, all he had to say was "do you need me to put the sack back on?" and I'd become immediately compliant.

I didn't care what he did to me, as long as my head wasn't in the sack. Especially after that night. No sack. Please.

There was a bucket in the closet for me to pee and poop in, and the entire closet had newspaper laid down. Yeah, it felt like I was a locked up hamster or other pet.

Morning came after a night of fitful attempts to sleep, and the closet door was opened. Eric removed my hood and I gasped clean, fresh air and shook my hair out.

"Thank you," I said, grateful.

"Sure," Eric responded. "Time for you to contribute to the household."

He unlocked my leash and led me to the bathroom. I knew what was coming, and I bet it had been Emma's idea. Eric loved having a sex slave to fuck at will and keep tied up. Emma was going to take advantage and make me do some of her cleaning.

"Here," Emma said. She provided a brush, some rags, a cloth and a toothbrush. "This tile floor really needs some heavy cleaning, especially in the cracks. I want that floor shining and the grout cleaned."

This was not exactly what I had envisioned as a sex slave for a weekend. On the other hand, I had made the mistake of not really thinking what I was doing through. I wanted the money, which would more than pay for a month's rent (at the time). 

But there I was, hands and knees, scrubbing a kitchen floor, naked. Tied up, able to move in limited ways.

I hadn't really had one orgasm yet. My mistake, I guess, but I had envisioned a weekend of debauchery in which I would be given multiple orgasms while tied up. 

Yeah, Eric had gotten a couple of good orgasms out of this, but me? Not one. 

I grumbled and complained while I was on the floor scrubbing. To my credit, I did in fact try to do a good job.

Eric took a number of photos of me humiliated and scrubbing a floor naked. Back then I had a body to die for (my body is still pretty good, though age has taken its toll). So I knew the photos were going to come out nicely, and actually sort of posed for them while working. 

You know, spreading my legs, making sure my arm was out of the way to catch my boob hanging down, sucking my stomach in, or turning my face toward the camera.

But all in all this was tedious work and not what I had signed up for.

I made this opinion clear with my grumblings, which got louder as I worked.

Finally Eric had enough and jerked the chain on my collar.

"Get up, bitch. You can't even perform a simple menial task without being a complete bitch and moaning and groaning. I will give you something to moan about."

"Wait... no... please, Eric, I will do a better job." I began scrubbing harder and faster.

"I told you to stop calling me that! It's master, you worm! And you are going to learn that!"

The hood went on before I saw it coming. The burlap sack over my head. Damn I hated that thing.

"No, please, Master, I will do as you ask! I will be good!"

I meant this, too. I knew down deep I was in deep shit with him and Emma and was under his control, at least for the day. I was in and out of subspace, but whenever Eric got intense, I slipped into subspace and truly tried to be subservient. 

Pulled along with my leash and chain, I followed, bumping into a few things along the way as I could see nothing and Eric wasn't being especially careful. I swore a couple of times when I banged shins (I can have a nasty mouth).

I didn't know where he had me at first, I couldn't tell. It turned out I was in the garage; figured that out because of the large, echoing sound. 

"Always wanted to try this, you gave me a reason to do it," Eric growled as I stood, disoriented. He grabbed the sack on my head and pulled it off, smoothing my ruffled hair afterward. He was nice like that. I am sure he did it because he wanted me to look good for the photos he'd be taking.

He grabbed my wrists and quickly tied them behind me. One thing about Eric, he could do simple ties incredibly fast. My wrists were tightly secured behind my back in a few seconds.

That was normal, but what followed was something new to me.

Remember, I was only about 19 at the time. I'd been doing bondage of one sort or another for four, maybe five years, but a lot was self bondage and the rest was relatively simple. Eric was the master and the best I had ever encountered at that point of my life.

So when he attached something to my wrist tie and it began pulling my wrists up behind me, it was a new experience. Strappado. I don't think I had even heard the word at that point in my life, but was getting a practical demonstration of it.

At first it was just slightly uncomfortable, and a new position (which I sort of liked).

As my wrists went higher (we was pulling a rope through an eye bolt, he hadn't gotten sophisticated enough for pulleys at that point in life), my shoulders started complaining and I began grunting. 

The natural thing to do when in strappado is to lean forward. Everyone does it. Can't help but do it, really. So I did. 

"Ah... ah... AH...." I was making noise as my wrists went higher and I bent over until my body was parallel to the floor and my boobs were hanging down. Thank god he stopped there.

"A perfect position, don't you think?" Eric said, gently rubbing my ass with his hand, slipping fingers between the ass cheeks and finding my cunt.

It was true, I was stuck in a bent over position and there was little I could do about it.

I had to admit to myself, this was new and fun. I loved being restricted and tied in new positions and this was new and unique. Forced to bend over, unable to escape, helpless and available. Down deep, I wanted him to take advantage of me, to finger me.

He had other ideas. Something was stuck in front of my face. 

"Kiss the cane," he said.

It was a cane. I had felt them a couple of times before, they hurt like hell. I kissed it, knowing I'd soon be in pain from it.

Once kissed, the cane made its way behind me and I lost track of it.

Until I felt it slapping against my ass. The sting was unexpected and strong. I yelped.

"Count," Eric said.

"One!" I cried.

The cane stroked against my ass again, and again.

"Two!"  "Three!"  "Four!"  "How many, Master, Please no more!"

"Ten," Eric said and continued.

Canings can leave nasty welts. I'd never experienced a significant caning before (I'd gotten a few mild strokes from a boyfriend, enough to learn respect for them). My ass was on fire and I knew this was worse than a lot of punishments I'd received. I begged, truly begged for him to stop. I meant what I was begging for. 

"Ten!" I finally called out and the caning was over. It could have been much worse and I know now (having experienced much worse) that Eric was going really easy on me. At the time though, I was crying and felt like I wouldn't be able to sit down for a month. My ass, which I saw about a day later, was covered with welts, but they weren't bad ones.

He left the room. I remained in the bent over position, the fire in my ass slowly subsiding, waiting for his return. This is one of the things I hate and love the most about bondage. To be tied up helpless, in an uncomfortable position, and simply left. Ignored. My plight something I just need to suffer through.

I struggled with the wrist tie for a little, though it was pointless. Eric was too good with rope. I moved back and forth, shifting around, but nothing really relieved my position. 

It was not long, maybe ten minutes, before Eric came back, but it seemed a lot longer.

"I think you owe me a blow job," he said.

"Yes, sir," I answered. I'd learned my lesson. 

He dropped his pants and raised his T-shirt. His cock sort of bounced out, it was hard and ready.

Frankly, that's my experience with most cocks I see for the first time. They are usually hard and ready by the time I am presented with them. I seldom have to take a soft cock into my mouth, unless the guy has already cum once and I am trying to get him back up.

This was maybe the fifth or sixth time I'd had Eric's cock in my mouth and it was familiar by then. I knew how to get him off, and did my best. He didn't cum as fast as I wished he would, but he came.

He came on my face, not in my mouth. If he'd cum in my mouth I would have just spit it out on the floor beneath me. I hated swallowing (still hate it, as a matter of fact).

I don't know how long I was in strappado but it must have been a while because the day had advanced quite a bit by the time he lowered my wrists.

"OK, I've always wanted to try something, and you are the perfect candidate," Eric said. He had a table with a lot of his rope gear to the side of the garage. I think he played with Emma in there at times. Emma got tied up a lot.

Eric got some of his best rope out, conditioned, flexible stuff in a long, long length. (To this day I admire guys with good rope skills.)

"So babe, listen. This is new so I am going to trust you to tell me if it gets too much. OK? I am listening." Eric was being straight with me. I was doing his rope artist thing, where he was making sure his model was OK. This is one reason I trusted him and agreed to let him disable me and abuse me in limited ways-- I knew he took this seriously and was not just having fun, he was also looking out for me.

I nodded. "OK." Giving my consent.

I have somewhat large boobs. They aren't huge, but they are definitely on the larger side. Perfect for guys tying them up. Balloon boobs. Forcing them out into big round bulbous blobs in front of my chest. 

That's what Eric did. He wrapped one end of the rope around one of my boobs; this was first for me. I mean, I'd had rope around my chest before, but this was the first time a guy had specifically wrapped rope around my boob to make it blob out like a balloon.

It was tight, but it didn't hurt terribly. 

Once he'd wrapped my left boob, he did the right one. I was a strange feeling, a new sensation for me (something I value). 

OK, so there is one thing no guy can resist when they have a naked women tied up with her tits tied and bulging. They absolutely have to slap them.

Yes, there are some truisms, some rituals and things you can't escape if you are going to be a rope sub. If your boobs get tied, they will be slapped. It's a rule.

So Eric slapped them. 

He didn't beat them, or cane them, or burn them or clamp them or whip them, all of which has happened to them since. No, he simply played around with them like they were a kid's beach balls and slapped them around.

It was funny, actually, watching him play with them. 

It was also mildly painful, just some slapping, but no big deal.

His play time was broken up by Emma coming in and looking at what he was doing with a frown.

"Having fun with the sex slave?" She asked.

Eric smiled happily.

"Don't forget, half the reason she is here is to get some good photos," she added. "In fact, let me get the camera."

Eric slapped me a few more times. Emma came back and began taking photos of me standing in place with my boobs bulging like balloons.

To tell you the truth, having bound, bulbous breasts is sort of humiliating. I am not sure why, it's just the idea that someone has taken part of my body and has tied it up to make it into some sort of plaything. I just... I don't feel sexy with balloon boobs. 

Emma actually told Eric to get me back up into strappado so she could get some photos, so up my wrists went, bending me over. This time with bound breasts.

He pulled my arms up enough it was straining my shoulders and hurt some. The look on my face (of pain) made Eric happy and Emma took photos then told him to put me back down. She was all in for torturing and using me, but she was a lot more mild than Eric.

Once that was done, I was standing in place again, boobs still tied.

I'd been on my feet for well over an hour, maybe two or two and a half. It was hard keeping track of time. I do know that Emma went grocery shopping and returned while I was strung up in the garage. Their life continued as normal as their sex slave suffered.

My boobs were also sort of pounding, like, I could feel they were pulsing with my heartbeat. It wasn't bad, but indicated they were having trouble getting good blood flow.

"Master, may I be released?" I asked politely.

"I want to try something first. Again, babe... I am new to this and will be careful. You need to tell me if it gets too intense."

I sighed. "Fine."

Consent given.

The ropes around my boobs went up into the air and through the eye bolts above me. 

Uh oh... he was going to pull them up. Like... was he going to suspend me from my breasts? Naahhh.... was that a thing? You couldn't do that, could you? 

Honestly, at 19 I had never experienced that and didn't think it was possible. So I figured he was just going to put some weights on them or something.

He pulled me up. The pressure on my breasts got intense. My wrists were tied behind my back. There was nothing I could do alleviate the pressure. The flesh to the side of my breasts pulled and stretched. The boobs pulsed. 

I stood on tiptoe.

"OK, that's... "

Eric stopped there and checked on me. "Is it hurting?"

"Well it sure doesn't feel good," I snapped at him. 

"But does it feel like a muscle is going to be pulled or flesh ripped?"

Sighing I shook my head. I wasn't going to pull the plug on this activity... yet.

He pulled up some more. I was on the balls of my feet and a lot of my weight was on my boobs. I looked at them, they were purple. I shuddered. It hurt. I wondered if my boobs could actually pop. I didn't think so. Damn, it hurt. Not as bad as the caning though. Weird.

"Take her down," Emma said. Eric lowered me. Blood flooded back into my breasts. The pain subsided

"Tie her arms up there so she can help support herself with her hands."

Dammit, Emma wasn't actually telling him to stop, she was telling him to change how I was tied. Making it less likely for me to actually damage myself so he could continue the suspension.

So, Eric undid my wrists and tied them again in front of me, then slipped the rope through an eye bolt above me and lifted me up. He pulled me up by my wrists until I was truly on my tip-toes.

He then pulled on my breast ropes until almost all my weight was on them.

My hands were right next to the rope that was tied around my wrists. My weight was increasingly on my breasts until I felt like I was hanging from them.

To compensate, I grabbed the rope around my wrists and lifted myself up with my arms.

I admit, I am not and was not a super fit girl that can do endless pull-ups. I tried the best I could to lift myself up and it relieved the pressure on my boobs but oh god, there was a limit. After a minute I let go and sank down, all my body weight going to my breasts.

Thirty seconds later I was hauling myself up again to give my breasts a rest.

This up and down motion continued for a few minutes, during which I became more and more distressed. Emma was taking photos as fast as possible, including ones of my agonized face. Eric would occasionally feel me up, hands on my tight breasts or between my legs. I ignored all of this, just trying to cope with the situation.

It was increasingly becoming miserable. At that age I hadn't acquired some of the toughness that I have now, and I just was falling apart. Tears were streaming and I began begging to be let down.

With other things, Eric would ignore me begging, but with this he immediately lowered me.

I've done breasts suspensions since then, and understand them a lot better. Back then I was just emotionally overwhelmed by what was going on. The mental anguish was as bad as the pain (which wasn't actually as bad as many other things I've endured).

Eric lowered me to the floor and both he and Emma came over and cuddled with me. Eric isn't good at aftercare, but Emma is and I needed it then. I had been suffering mentally over my experience that afternoon as much as I had ever mentally suffered. (Including the time I was hit by boyfriends).

I was still collared and leashed but right then I was completely unsecured and could have gotten up and walked out. No locks except on the collar, which wouldn't have stopped me leaving. 

But I didn't even think about it. I was there to suffer and be their sex toy, and my mind had accepted that. And they were being kind to me, caring for me after I had suffered. I didn't want to leave.

Things changed a bit after this. The couple took me to their bedroom. I was still their sex slave, but things got a little less intense.

I was chained to their bed. They had a bed with bondage accessories like four posts and anchor points for chains or ropes (they were a very kinky couple). My leash was locked to the bed but otherwise I was allowed to move about freely on a six foot chain.

I took a nap.

Yeah, that was the best I could do. I was on a comfortable bed for the first time since my kidnapping and the husband / wife team left me there to go do whatever they did on a weekend. My body ached from being tied up and caned and suspended and I simply lay back and fell asleep.

Another thing about being kidnapped and kept as a sex slave for a weekend-- you can't actually have sex the entire weekend. My captors had work to do, they paid bills, went shopping, even watched a TV show or two. 

My time on their bed was wonderful, but it ended, as all things do. Eric came in and unlocked my leash, leading me to a closet for 'storage'. 

Tied, secured to the wall and gagged, the door shut on me and I was in the dark again.

Subspace flooded over me and I sank down, waiting for my master.

I'd been in captivity only for a day and a half, but in that time my old life had receded and all that was around me was the closet, my tied and secured arms and legs, the gag, my master and the desire to please him, my mistress and my feelings of gratitude toward her for tempering the more sadistic leanings of my master.

I was fed and watered. I peed in the bucket. I lay as best I could (my collar and leash were secured high enough so I couldn't actually lie down).

Several hours later Eric came in and said, "time to join us for a threesome."

I obediently stood and allowed him to lead me into the bedroom. The idea of the threesome was actually rather arousing for me. I'd sucked Eric a couple of times and been fucked by him but this held promise-- I could be part of the threesome.

Emma is a good looking woman. She was maybe eight years older than me at the time, but in very good shape and experienced.

My collar remained on and I was chained to the bed with a lengthy chain that allowed lots of leeway. If I tried to run I wouldn't make it to the door, but I could go anywhere on the bed I liked. My wrists and ankles had cuffs on them, which Eric used occasionally to lock me up, but most of the time I was free to move.

"Time to service Emma," Eric announced. Emma was stripping and crawling onto the bed with me. She looked like she was excited to be naked with me in bed. I knew Emma wasn't lesbian and even her bisexual interests were limited. She was mostly straight. But in the right circumstances, she could enjoy being with a woman, and I guess this was one of them. 

At 19 I had gained some experience with women, including having had a girlfriend for a few months in high school. I considered myself straight (that changed over time) but enjoyed being with anyone attractive, regardless of sex. 

So I dove right in when Emma spread her legs for me. 

It was a delight. Pure enjoyment to crawl in, feel my tongue press against the soft folds of her pussy, to lick her and see her react in pleasure, to taste her as her vagina lubricated itself. 

I felt Eric's face between my legs and spread them to allow him access as I continued with Emma. He licked and readied me for a while (I was already dripping wet), then I felt him enter me.

His thrusts pushed my body and head up and down and I simply converted that movement to a rhythm licking Emma. 

Apparently I was good, because Emma was moaning and grunting and grabbed my head and was totally into it. It felt good to have Eric's cock thrusting into me as well, I liked being fucked. I like the sensation of being penetrated, I get off on the thrusting, the force that is used to ram into me, and if the angle is right the stimulation can really feel fantastic.

This was like... the second set of people I'd had a threesome with in my life at that point, and it was new and a lot of fun. I still felt a bit like a slave, but at this point it was really fun being a sex slave and being used to satisfy this couple's sexual cravings.

Eric had cum earlier, so he wasn't cumming quickly and pulled out to switch positions.

He went to Emma and began fucking her. My own pussy juices were covering his dick, as well as my saliva on her pussy and it was sort of kinky thinking about his pushing his cock into her pussy with my body fluids providing all the lube.

Eric and Emma were made for each other, I could tell that. The two of them fucked like they were one organism. She was moaning and shuddering, I think she was having an orgasm, maybe two, as Eric thrust into her. 

I tried to help, kissing Emma and reaching down to stimulate her clit. (One of the things about sex with a guy is I need direct clit stimulation to cum, and that doesn't happen in most positions with a guy, so I stimulate my clit directly with my fingers during sex). 

It was incredibly rewarding to see Emma shudder with her mouth in an O and cry out as she definitely came.

I had been conditioned for the last couple of days to be totally subservient and to obey my master, and this feeling slid easily into the desire to make both of them orgasm. To use my body, my skills, to pleasure them. When I saw and felt Emma climax, I almost climaxed myself.

Eric secured my wrists to give me a feeling of being restrained (the collar and chain prevented me from leaving but I didn't actually feel restrained). It didn't slow us down much. Yes, I couldn't use my hands as easily, but that was OK. I could use my mouth and cunt and breasts and ass and I used them all with both Emma and Eric.

I have to admit I focused more on Emma, at least mentally. Eric could take care of himself. He had the cock and stuck it into whatever hole he wanted as we writhed together, the three of us. At one point he pushed it into my mouth and I could taste the shit from Emma's ass, which it had been just before.  That was a bit of a surprise, but things were just flowing and so intense I didn't let it stop me and just sucked him off.

Eventually we ended up in an Eiffel Tower position (I didn't know it had that name back then), with me sitting on Eric's cock, riding it, and Emma on his face. She reached down and was rubbing my clit as I moved up and down and I came. A mind blowing orgasm, I shuddered, cried out, clutched for Emma and ground down on Eric's cock to feel it go as deep inside as it could go.

It was the first of two amazing orgasms I had that evening, the second being when Eric was in my ass and Emma was licking my clit.

Yeah. That was the day I decided I could go for a threesome. It really depended on who it was, (as with most things sexual), but given the right circumstances, I could do a MFF without hesitation.

Late that night I was put away. I was a sex slave, after all, not on an equal par with either Emma or Eric. They'd let me sleep in the bed earlier, but they drew a line and weren't going to let me share their bed at night.

So I went into the closet again. The second night. It was somewhat familiar this time, I'd been there before.

I would have masturbated in the closet, but Eric had strapped my arms behind me. I did find something to rub my clit on but never reached orgasm.

I had food and water in the closet and a buck for pee and the newspaper on the floor to make sure I didn't splatter on the flooring. Sleep came more easily and while it was uncomfortable that night, I still got a few hours in before Eric opened the door and let light in the next morning.

"Release day," he announced. With his help I managed to get up (my legs were sort of cramped from not being able to stretch out all night) and walk out to the dining room where breakfast was waiting. 

He removed my gag and had me sit down.

"We got some really good photos, take a look." He began to show me the photos he and Emma had taken. I was to be paid $500 for these.

It turned out Emma was really the photographer and Eric was the rigger in the family. Her photos were good.

It was strange though. I'd let a couple of boyfriends take nudies of me in the past, but these were ore professional, and when I looked at them I realized these were maybe, possibly, going to be sold and seen and masturbated to by countless men. It gave me very mixed feelings. But it was done. I wanted the money.

We had breakfast together. I was still naked while Eric and Emma were clothed; I was still wearing a collar and leash and wrist and ankle cuffs. It very much reminded me of my place.

Finally Eric had me get dressed.

"I have a present for you," he said. "A thank you for this weekend."

"Cool," I said, happy to accept whatever he would give me.

It started with a $500 check. There was a sense of satisfaction in that, though at the same time I wondered if I was being short changed. It seemed worth more to have my cunt and boobs permanently captured and spread out and sold for ever. That $500 bucks would last a couple of months and be gone. The images they had taken would live on for a long time.

I was wearing a dress I had left there earlier, not the clothes I had been kidnapped in.

Eric proceeded to unlock me, remove my collar, but he replaced it with some transport restraints of a sort. Shackles. Metal chains that locked my ankles and wrists; enough length I could walk but not run and my wrists were still shackled behind me. 

We walked out to his car. I had this strange sense of melancholy. I had been part of his household, a sex slave, dependent and subservient to him for two days. It felt wistful... going back to my old life.

We drove to my neighborhood (I actually lived in a different city than Eric). He stopped two blocks away from my apartment.

"The key to your shackles is under the potted plant in front of your door. The shackles are my gift to you, a thank you for being my sex slave. Let's do it again sometime."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Maybe," I said and got out of the car. Walking down the street in shackles felt weird and was sort of a parting humiliation from Eric. Yes, several people stared, one woman asked if I was OK and needed help, ('No, I am fine, thanks"), and sure enough the key was under the pot.

I removed the shackles and went inside, took a shower, and collapsed on the bed. 

Apparently I had a rather strong "freshly fucked" face when I arrived at work the next morning. A couple of the guys commented ('oh, you got some over the weekend, eh?').

The shacks were were worth about $100, which made them a decent gift and I still have them in my toy drawer.

(Names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent).