Erotic Pain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pony Training

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Constant Reminder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That night, I begged for relief.

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

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

I did as I was told.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anal Punishment

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

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

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

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

Jason looked upset.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dinner Party

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on…” Jason said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“aayy i leeese aaaa this gag awwww?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I turned to Jason, waiting for instructions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Wooden Pony Ride

Yes, I have ridden the pony.

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

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

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

"Um.... really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At 7:30 it began.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My ride had begun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riding the pony was truly an ordeal of endurance.

The clock said 8:45.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck," was all I could say.

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

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

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

And he stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The clock read 9:30.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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