Pet

A while back I discovered a new fetish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Selling Pain and Humiliation for Cash

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce asked my name: "Siobhan".

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

Punishment began.

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

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

Scared, I shook my head. "No."

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

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Speak up. How shall we punish you?"

"A spanking?" I quickly said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The cane..." I said hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Simple Spanking

As my marriage and slavery to my husband and owner has matured with time, I have gotten more adept at obedience, anticipating Jason's needs, and submitting to his will. As a result my slavery has involved less simple punishment and more servitude. Jason still plays with me, and it is my delight to suffer for him. My suffering is my offering to him and gives me much satisfaction.

Punishment is not a pleasure because it comes from my own failure. It is the consequence of my own obstinacy, self-centeredness, thoughtlessness, or lack of strength. Thus, when Jason punishes me, it is much more painful in my mind than any play or pain that we engage in for his pleasure. It is humiliating to me to be punished and that pain is worse than anything.

Jason had instructed that dinner was to be ready at 6:30 each evening. That day was difficult at work. Corporate headquarters was really getting on our case about security issues, and we had a meeting with a vendor to discuss wireless intrusion prevention systems that ran over its allotted time. Traffic was bad. I got home late, and when I got home I simply didn't follow through and get dinner prepared.

It is such a simple thing. Dinner. I could have whipped together Mac and Cheese with a side of vegies, but I let it slide. Jason came home at 7:00, and asked where dinner was. I panicked, and quickly made sandwiches, though we were out of good bread so I had to make them on hamburger buns. Some canned soup rounded out the meal, but all in all it was inadequate and late, and I knew it.

That evening, around 9:00, Jason turned to me and said quietly, "Siobhan, what happened with dinner tonight?"

The pang of panic ran through me again, and I said simply and truthfully, "I was tired, and late, and just didn't get it done. I am sorry. I will be better from now on."

Jason nodded thoughtfully. "All right. I understand. We all have slip ups from time to time. Present yourself for a spanking."

Tears came to my eyes, not because of the anticipated pain of a simple spanking, but because I was to be punished for failure, and that stung. I knew better than to protest, though. It could have been much worse, and at times it was.

I stood before Jason where he sat on the couch. I undid my jeans (Jason has allowed me to wear clothes in the house recently, which is a source of pride for me). Slipping them down around my ankles, I stepped out of them, picked them up and folded them neatly, putting them aside. I wore no panties underneath, as I did not yet have permission to wear underwear in Jason's presence. I had my top on, and socks, but was naked from the waist to my ankles.

Jason reached over to the side table where he keeps a few items and took out some handcuffs. I presented my wrists, and the cuffs snapped in place. The feeling of restraint was familiar, almost comfortable. I felt safe when I was restrained with Jason.

"Do you need your ankles restrained?" Jason asked.

I thought for a moment. The wrist restraints were to help me, as were ankle restraints. It is a natural reaction to try and cover and protect a part of your body when it is subjected to pain, and to struggle. Struggling during punishment inevitably prolongs the punishment and makes things worse. Thus, I welcome the restraints. However, I had been getting better at not fighting and submitting, and so I responded, "I want to try without ankle restraints, if that is OK with you, Jason. I think I can behave. I will do my best."

"Very well," Jason said. He took my hands and pulled me too him, and I followed his lead as he guided me to the couch where I first knelt and then slid over his lap. I am tall (not as tall as Jason, of course), and my body stretches the entire length of the sofa. My ankles stuck over one end, and cuffed wrists rested over the other end. My bare ass stuck up in the middle, where Jason's legs supported my waist and raised my buttocks higher.

I braced myself for the first stinging impact, but instead felt Jason caressing my ass cheeks. He was placing oil on them, liberally spreading the baby oil all around my ass and then down my thighs, and between my legs. I spread my legs slightly to allow him access (this was automatic for me, when Jason reaches to touch a part of my body I immediately make it accessible without thinking).

The oil made my flesh more pleasurable for Jason. He liked to see my skin glisten. I was glad he was taking pleasure in me and it made me feel a little better. At the same time, I knew the oil increased the sting of a spanking and clenched my teeth, waiting for the first impact that would come at any time without warning. I buried my face in the soft pillows of the couch.

Jason continued rubbing oil into my flesh, raising my top to expose my back and sides. My skin was slippery with the stuff, so when Jason's finger probed between my legs he slipped quickly and easily into my pussy and deep inside. I gasped at the unexpected intrusion and almost closed my legs, stopping myself just in time. I let him explore, probing deep inside me with first one and then two oiled fingers. He pressed up hard against the wall of my vagina, making me feel as if he were in my rectum as well; then he pressed down hard into my G spot, and I gasped again, feeling pleasure at his stimulation of my insides.

My ass rose almost involuntarily in response to his probing, my legs spreading slightly wider. It was at this point that he withdrew his hand and the palm raised high, and then descended onto my ass with an unexpected, stinging slap. I yelped, and my body shook at the pain. My feet went up instinctively but I caught myself and put them back down before Jason had to force them back in place.

Slaaappp... A second strike. The heat was already gathering on my skin as blood rushed to the surface. Slaapp!  A third spank landed. The oil made each spank sting slightly more, but I was trained and didn't wriggle or kick. Instead I raised my ass slightly for Jason's easy access. I was proud of how I was good in submitting to him, even in punishment.

Instead of another spank, he delved deep inside my pussy once again. It felt good to have him inside and I moaned a little. Two fingers were inside me and his thumb was pressing against my exposed anus. It felt really good; the stinging heat of lingering pain from the spanks, combined with the probing.

Slaaaaaap!! Another strike, this one harder. I jerked slightly, and bit the cloth of the sofa rather than squeal. Strangely, I felt Jason's penis under my stomach. He had an erection and it was pressing into my hips. It made me want him to take me, but I knew I had to take my punishment first. I was glad he was deriving pleasure from it, which helped diminish the pain I felt in my ass and in my mind from experiencing punishment for my own failure.

Slaaaaaaaaaapppp!!!!  Each strike seemed to be worse. I know from experience - each strike builds on the last because the skin becomes more sensitive, inflamed and raw from previous impacts. My hands clutched the sofa as he continued alternating spanks with probes. The last few he pressed two fingers inside my pussy, his thumb well inside my ass, and his little finger extended out and rubbed my clit.

I didn't want the spanking to end. The pain had become pleasure, the pleasure merged with the pain, and I was groaning and grunting like an animal on his lap as he administered the punishment. It was the weirdest feeling to have the pain and pleasure merge so completely. It was getting to the point where I thought I might orgasm just from the stinging pain on my ass.

The spanking did end, but only when he lifted me up and turned me around so that I was sitting on his lap, facing away from him. He unzipped, produced his member, and slipped it with ease inside me. I leaned forward slightly to assure complete penetration and Jason proceeded to thrust deeply, his hands reaching up to my breasts. I rode him until I felt him explode inside of me, which didn't take long.

When he was finished, he took me in his arms, and cradled me. I felt complete, grateful for the spanking, grateful for the chance to submit and service my master and husband.

Gagged Humiliation

I had done something wrong; nagged a little too much, or complained, or criticized. I am a devoted and obedient slave so I don't want to explore my misbehavior; it is always humiliating to review in my mind. The result of my misbehavior was that Jason decided to punish me using a gag.

Gags fall into the category of restraints that I love to hate. They are so humiliating. They make a statement about how I am being controlled. They communicate something to me and to those who can see me. They can be simply uncomfortable or downright painful.

On the other hand, Jason loves gags. On me, of course. He has slowly been acquiring a growing set of gags. Ball gags, whiffle gags, cleave gags, ring gags, penis gags, dental spreaders, pony bits, and so on. Each one has a purpose, a situation, a use. Each is targeted to have a specific effect on me, to produce a reaction, to communicate a discipline or to convey a feeling.

Very few gags are actually designed to keep me quiet, per se. They can interfere with speech and even muffle sound a little, but most gags don't prevent me from making noise (a lot of it if I am in pain), or speaking (though I may have to work a little to be understood).

Our neighbors across the street, Steve and Diane, have joined us at times for play. They do not live the complete D/s lifestyle as Jason and I do, but we did inspire them to try a few things and they seem to enjoy it. I enjoy when they join us, because with another couple things are simply more interesting. I am bisexual and Diane is a very pretty woman in her mid-30s, and Steve is a fit and attractive man.

A couple of weeks ago we were invited over to Steve and Diane's for dinner and an evening of whatever. It had been a while since we had seen them so it was exciting for me. I wanted to dress up a bit and make the evening nice. I wore a nice dress that showed off my body without being too inappropriate, and a few nice items of jewelry. I placed my favorite sapphire pendant on my slave collar. When it was time to walk across the street to their house, Jason stopped me inside the front door and told me to turn around and open my mouth. I did as he requested, and he slipped a ring gag into my mouth.


Ring gags aren't designed to silence you at all. They have several basic effects. First, they allow you to make all the noise you want, but clear speech is near impossible. Second, they hurt, depending on how big they are, because your jaw is held open wide and after a while the muscles and tendons in your jaw get very tired of being stretched. Lastly, and at times the worst, they stimulate the inside of you mouth, making you drool uncontrollably. Going over to our neighbors gagged like this was going to be humiliating.

Jason pulled the gag tight, making sure it was securely in place, and buckled it behind my head. It secured with a very small lock and would be impossible to slip off. I leaned forward and bumped my forehead against the wall in frustration, realizing that the evening was going to have some very embarrassing and unpleasant elements to it.

"Stand up and make me proud, now, Siobhan," Jason patted my ass, and I did as I was told. We walked across the street and knocked at our neighbor's door.

"Welcome! Ah, Siobhan, I see you are under a bit of restraint tonight. That's OK, we will do just fine," Steve was cordial as he invited us in. Diane came out to greet us from the kitchen, saw what I was wearing, and her face took on a look of empathy. I flushed bright red with embarrassment, but forged ahead. Following Diane into the kitchen to help her finish preparing the meal, I hung my head.

"What happened, Siobhan? Is he punishing you? Or just being a little cruel? I know Jason can take pleasure out of disciplining you for little reason. Though I have to say I think you will sometimes push the envelope a little because you do like it." Diane was sympathetic. She was submissive to Steve, though only during scenes.

I shrugged. Trying to talk in a ring gag is really hard, harder than most other kinds of gags. We brought the food out to the table and sat down.



As the food was passed and dished out I suddenly realized that I wasn't going to be able to eat. A wave of complete humiliation came over me again. I must have flushed bright red because Jason noticed and said, "Don't worry Siobhan, I am sure there are things here you will be able to eat. Just do the best you can."

Tears trickled down my cheeks, not from pain but from the shear embarrassment of my situation. I was being publicly punished and forced to eat a nice dinner while wearing a ring gag that made it completely impossible to eat. It was going to be near impossible to drink, as well. I lowered my head and let my hair fall in front of my face, trying to hide myself.

"Raise your head, be polite Siobhan. Why don't you start by telling Steve and Diane why you are wearing the gag?" Jason took a big bite of lasagna. All eyes turned toward me.

"I awk ack ooo ason..." I said as clearly as I could. I could see Diane was embarrassed for me, which somehow made me feel worse. Steve nodded, and dug into his food.

My jaw was beginning to hurt. The gag was a big one, holding my jaw wide open. The muscles at the back of my jaw were stretched and beginning to cramp. I decided to try and eat a tiny bit of lasagna; it was soft and I thought I might be able to handle it.

I slipped the bit of tomato sauce covered pasta into my mouth, leaning my head back to keep it from falling out. Moving my tongue around slowly smashed the pasta to the point where I could swallow, but it was impossible to do so. It is very difficult to swallow when wearing a ring gag. I tilted my head back, poured a little water into my mouth and tried to make the food go down. At first I thought it was working but then I choked. Water bubbled up and over my chin. I managed to get the food down, but the experiment wasn't encouraging.

The others were talking, and I was sitting pretending to be part of the group, but unable to participate. I felt terribly alone.

"Tell us about your new project, Siobhan. I hear you are bolstering security there." Steve was either being naive in asking me to talk, or deliberately cruel.

"Talk to Steve, Siobhan," Jason prompted.

I raised my head and did my best. "Eee haa a uuu i hi... inter...erance ecknology ee are de loying..."

I spoke slowly and deliberately. When I was finished, I broke into silent tears. I doubt if anyone had understood more than a tenth of what I had said. The only reason to have me speak was to force me to demonstrate my shameful condition.

After that episode, my drooling became uncontrollable. The ring was stimulating the inside of my mouth, making it think there was food there that needed to be chewed and digested. Saliva gathered in my mouth and began dribbling over onto my chin. I used my napkin to wipe, over and over again, but it was obvious what was happening.

I had one sip of wine, one small piece of lasagna, and nothing else during the dinner. When it was over, I helped clear the table and then Diane and I joined the men in the living room, bringing them coffee. My jaw was throbbing by now. It was incredible how one small restraint device such as a ring gag had caused me such humiliation and discomfort.

After a half hour or so, the talk between the men and Diane turned to sensual topics. Steve described the latest scene he and Diane had created; Diane indicated she enjoyed it a lot except for some clamps that had cut the skin and left marks. I was saying nothing, simply sitting and listening, trying to keep from drooling all over my nice dress.

"Siobhan, I know you can't participate much in the conversation, but perhaps you can find some way to be a part of the group," Jason said. I looked at him miserably, not knowing what he had in mind.

"If you can't talk, maybe you can provide some other form of stimulation for the company."

Oh. Now I understood. Slowly, I slid down from my chair and onto my knees in front of Jason.

"No, let's take care of our good host, first."

Drool dripping from my chin as I moved over in front of Steve. This would be the third time I had given Steve a blow job. Steve unzipped and pulled out his semi-flaccid cock. Maneuvering my head down, I managed to get it into my mouth and began a slow but steady back and forth motion. I couldn't use my lips, but my tongue was free and I did my best. It took about a minute and Steve was rock hard, his cock sliding down my throat.


"She has really learned to deep throat it, hasn't she?" Steve panted as I moved back and forth in front of him.

"Yep. I have trained her myself, gradually, in a number of areas. I am proud of how she is growing," Jason answered him. "Put your hands behind your back, Siobhan."

I kept my hands clasped behind me while Jason and Diane watched as I continued to shove my head down on Steve's cock, letting my tongue and throat slide over his hard, engorged flesh. A few minutes later I felt him tense and suddenly pull out. I closed my eyes, knowing what was coming. Hot, slimy fluid suddenly shot over my face, getting into my hair and even up one nostril.

I sat back on my heels and waited for further instructions as Steve wiped himself clean and zipped up.  His semen very slowly slid down my face. Finally, I shifted over to where Jason sat, offering my wide open mouth to him.

"No, no, Siobhan. Not just now. Please provide some entertainment for Diane. I am sure she worked very hard on the wonderful meal tonight."

I wasn't sure how Diane felt about this, but I knew it would be easier for me. Diane unzipped her pants and pulled them down around her ankles, spreading her knees and exposed herself for me. I reached up and pulled her panties down, and then used my tongue to begin exploring her soft folds of flesh. She tasted good, better than Steve. I knew how to make her feel good, and in no time she was moaning and panting as the guys watched her writhe under my ministrations. She came loudly, grabbing my head.

When it was over, Diane looked down at me with a bit of embarrassment herself. I knew she felt like she had used me and contributed to my debasement. I knew she was merely following Steve's wishes and frankly, I enjoyed every minute I had with her. I didn't get to play with women nearly often enough and I had a bit of a crush on Diane.

The rest of the evening was calm. Jason never had me do him, instead the others talked a while and then Jason excused us and we walked back across the street to our own house. Steve's semen was dried on my face, so when I got back inside the house I went to wash it off. I came back out of the bathroom, removed my clothes and presented myself to Jason to have the gag removed.


"We aren't done quite yet, Siobhan. Kneel." Jason was sitting on the sofa, and I knelt before him, reached out and unzipped him and pulled out his large, throbbing member. He wrapped his hands around my head and plunged deep.

Steve had been polite; I wasn't his property, I was Jason's, and he didn't abuse the privilege of having me suck him off. Jason went at it like an animal, pushing his cock as deeply down my throat as he could. His balls pressed against my chin and my nose smashed against his abdomen.

I have practiced deep throating, but it is still difficult. I choked as the rod of flesh filled my throat, pressing my tonsils and uvula. Jason pulled most of the way out, allowing me a breath as he let my lips surround the head of his penis, and then pushed in again, all the way. I choked again and couldn't breathe. My stomach was reacting, automatically trying to churn up it's contents (thank goodness I hadn't eaten anything).  As he pulled out again, a little slime from my stomach came up.

In mid-gasp, Jason plunged in again, not giving me time for a full breath.

He continued to face fuck me like this, pushing me to my limits. I gasped for breath each time he allowed it, but I struggled in place. I couldn't help it, my body was beginning to cry out for air and vomit kept rising to my throat. Jason stopped for a moment, took a pair of handcuffs from a drawer in a side table, and cuffed my wrists behind my back. He then slid into my mouth again through the ring gag and continued, holding my head firmly, pushing in and out, his cock sliding well down my throat.

Tears streamed down my face and slime dripped from my mouth and nose, a mixture of snot and vomit. Breathing was a luxury, to be grasped as quickly as possible. He pounded away, pushing in and out, sometimes deeper, sometimes pulling out to allow my tongue to stimulate his cock head. I did the best I could but I had basically been reduced to a piece of meat with a hole and breasts bouncing to his thrusts.

Just when I thought I would pass out, he pushed deep and his cock pulsed in my mouth as his semen pumped out and down my throat. I didn't have to swallow, my throat was held open and the cum slid down easily.

He pulled out, and I gasped for air. When he let go of my head, I simply slumped over and then lay on my side on the carpet, trying to catch my breath.

Finally, he unlocked the cuffs, and removed the gag. He was tender with me. I had been punished, and taken it like the good whore slave I was. I was proud to have gotten through it, and rested my head on his lap as he stroked my hair.

Later that night we took a shower together to clean up, playing intimately and enjoying each other's bodies. I slept safe in his arms, content that I was his.