Dripping hot
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Posted:Jun 20, 2007 7:10 am
Last Updated:Feb 7, 2023 10:37 am 13852 Views
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I lay without a stitch on me on the yoga mat. I then lit the candle according to Master’s instructions (via telephone) and with the other hand brought the flame nervously towards my body. I had spread myself lengthwise and propped up my upper body just a little to raise my chest with my elbows resting behind me for support. Master asked me to test the candle to see if it would burn and I tilted the candle a little over the top of my palm and flinched as the liquid wax licked my moist skin. Master was pleased when I reported that the candle did not scald and urged me to begin covering my breasts with the wax.
I inhaled deeply and slowly let the candle drip onto the tender skin of my breast and watched the drop grow into a translucent spot caking the region. The pain stung and I shut my eyes as I sensed the heat spread around my chest. The reaction was instant and I could feel the nipple respond. The brown button jerked into alertness and swelled out hard, anticipating as it were the hot molten drip on it soon. It wasn’t easy this trip of self afflicted pain, and I knew my Master was all I would listen to while I went about performing this terribly painful task. His voice sent me into a daze and I obeyed what I instinctively understood as the call of my being. The pain I felt was like a form of difficult worship that I had undertaken to reach closer to my destination: to love and surrender to his wish. His command to me was an opportunity of love and dedication and so each such pain act was as enthralling as it was exciting.
I listened to Master as he prompted me to fill up my right breast with the wax and I moved the flame closer to about a foot and a half above my skin and began to drip the candle in circles around the breast. I was beginning to feel the heat spread down my limbs now and the sting of the hot wax seemed to have transferred to the groin. Each drop of hot wax sent a shiver down my legs and each time I let out a moan, the cunt quivered till I knew I was ready to squirt. Master felt my chemistry change and he exhorted me to drip faster and shout till all I knew was the sudden hot wax falling on the breast and covering the nipple as I screamed with pain and half with pleasure as the adrenalin rushed southwards to my shaking groin and with one loud hollering cry of pain I was coming…ohhhhhhhhhh. After I finished with the right breast, I turned my attention to the other, until both my breasts were fully covered with wax.
Master sighed as he always did when I was turned on, and slowly whispered to me to travel down to the crotch. This was clearly the toughest bit but I was now in subspace, my eyes half shut and my hand moving more by instinct than by calculation as I brought the dripping candle, now grown shorter by at least a third of its length, below towards my navel and to the neat vee made by my thighs pressed tightly together. The candle was dangerously close to my skin and I hoarsely cried to Master that I could hardly see as I let the flickering flame settle above my groin and feel the wax drip on to that delicate zone. It was sheer torture as the molten liquid gradually covered the shaven pubis. The hit of each drop resulted in a synchronous cum, and I pulled my legs up and folded them at the knees, so that I could easily squirt long and fast, as the candle perilously circled my groin.
Master cautious as ever kept saying that I keep my legs pressed hard together so that the wax didn’t get inside the cunt and I obliged but could barely answer him as my voice grew fainter with each cry and my energies sagged with the squirts growing longer till I found myself lying in a pool of water, all my own! I could see some of it jet into a longish trajectory and I both laughed and cried, incredible at this feat but more I suppose at the way I came without a finger or any touch on my cunt
And then as Master whispered “I love you baby,” the floodgates opened and I wept and cried and came, all together. It was one long seemingly endless cum as I wailed and jetted out more water while Master whispered into my ear to blow the candle out… spent and wet like a rag doll lolling in her own mess, my cheeks washed with my tears and my body bathed in a pool of cum. I felt my body float and my own limbs grow distant from me like as if I could watch myself from above, with Master surrounding my senses as I faded into a vacuum and watched myself
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The Goddess and I
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Posted:Jun 14, 2007 1:40 am
Last Updated:Feb 7, 2023 10:39 am 11594 Views
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The car screeched to a grinding halt at the parking lot as it pulled up to the top of the hill and I saw the ancient peaked dome rising from the temple nestling among the blue green hillocks. There was a little quickening of the pulse for I knew I had arrived where Master wished me to be. I was alone and it brought me the quietude to think of the mission that I had come with. I fished out the clamps as if on cue from the leather bag and extended my hand into the folds of the scarf drawn across my breast and expertly lifted the cups of my bra to secure a clamp over each nipple. I looked straight ahead at the thinning afternoon crowd and without peeking down into my breasts managed to clamp them. I pulled my bra back and adjusted the blouse before stepping out of the car into the sun.
The temple doors were littered with the remains of the flowers and incense sticks offered by the day’s devotees and I bought a couple of lamps and some yellow oleanders from the thin young boy draped in a saffron cloth and proceeded to the interior. I felt calm as though I had made a certain contract with myself that I had honoured. Master had willed that I go and pray and tell the goddess my innermost thoughts. He wanted me clamped and here I was, at the altar of the goddess, torturing my breasts while I sought out my communion with her. I left my sandals outside the precincts and stepped onto the cold marble floor in my bare feet. But they were adorned today as Master wished, in a pair of dainty silver anklets and I looked down at my unusually dressed feet as I walked the last leg of the temple complex before entering the sanctum sanctorum.
Strange, how an overwhelming feeling of being in the presence of one who saw and knew it all seized me. The thousand lamps flickering inside at the devi’s altar suddenly lifted me out of my own absorbed self, and I could barely feel the pain that clutched my nipples, as the smell of burning oil and the smoke of incense suffused my senses. The incandescent white light of the lamps seemed to rise up in a halo in which I saw my Master’s loving face, and I felt the tears well up as I looked at the dark goddess and her sharp bright unwavering gaze and her apocalyptic third eye in which I fixed mine. I stood there still and in silence while people milled around making their offerings to the holy deity.
It seemed I was unaware of everything else as I slowly shut my eyes and reached out to her. And before I knew I was talking to her, telling her how I was back after all these years to reiterate my love for the man who I lived for and for whom I had taken the difficult path. That day many years ago I had confessed to the goddess that I had fallen in love with a man who was not mine and told her how I chose him because I truly knew I had found love after so long, a love that touched my deepest core.
I got her sanction it seemed that day and I had not looked back since. Today I told the goddess how strong this love has been and that I have not shaken all these years. Pain, suffering, humiliation, agony and the ache of waiting: I have endured it all. For with it I have also known and felt the deepest and most beautiful love and faith for a man who I give my all to and who wants to give me his best. He loves me with an intensity and desire that is uncommon and it is as if this temple where I declared my love has consecrated our rare bond. I looked up at the goddess once again and I knew some communication had been made. There was a moment when I felt a primeval raw emotion choke me as I lit the lamps , stooped to touch the holy water bathing her feet and bowed in obeisance to the goddess. I asked this deity of tantric power and erotic bliss to bring me my happiness and his, and I did not need to tell her what, for she knew…I then walked out of the ancient, dark, stone- walled temple into the summer sun.
As I walked back to where the car was parked the overpowering numbness vanished. My tryst with the divine was over and I knew I was back in the world of everyday inanities when a blaring sound from a speeding motor brought me out of my reverie. It had been a full twenty five minutes of premium contact with the gods: also a time of deep and unnerving realization. Of what it takes to live a life, find a reason for it and die for it perhaps. I quietly opened the door and slid into the rear seat and rested my head a moment on the back. I then slipped my hand into my blouse and pulled out the clamps. Sweet torture, this, as the blood in my veins rushed back making me at once aware of the searing pain clutching my breast and seeping into my nipples. A tear rolled down my cheek and a familiar feeling of desire crept up my limbs. Master, wherever you are, I miss you. The car pulled out of the kerb and slowly climbed down the winding hillside…
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Cum on Command
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Posted:Jun 13, 2007 1:40 am
Last Updated:Jun 20, 2019 8:53 am 12194 Views
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I never fail to be taken aback by the new highs I have climbed under the guidance and careful tutelage of my Master, my bdsm guru and, most importantly, the man of my life. He seems to have challenged the theory that women only climax after a long and laborious period of foreplay followed by intercourse and when they do they seldom repeat the performance soon. When we began talking about the myth and mysteries of the big O and the intricate workings of the g-spot, virtually and literally the female hotspot, I hardly believed what he proposed: that women were multi orgasmic and that if a woman is stimulated in the proper manner she could come on command, and even without coitus. Today we have traveled some significant distance most pleasurably together and I am ready to believe every word of his for not only do I fully understand what he says, I also have the privilege of experiencing the great phenomenon myself. Thanks to this wonderful man, my master!
I always like the way he starts by softly playing with his eyes: now seducing, now inscrutable. He holds me with his gaze so long that I am like a bag of jelly beans completely without direction, just delirious and ecstatic to be under his spell. Master is fully aware of his power and he comes up to me and brushes my cheeks with a stroke of his hand and kisses the tips of my breasts making me quiver in the legs. He then begins his real act, reclining back on the couch or bed a few minutes while he makes me stand before him for display taking in the details of my shape and look. I like to stand in a particular way for him and I thrust out my slender body at him for his scrutiny, loving the way I can see his excitement rise and his quickening breath when he admiringly takes in the view.
This is a delicately aesthetic experience for both of us for Master conducts himself with incredible grace while the adrenalin rushes in my veins even as I try to be in sync with his deft and light movements as he first takes off my bra with the snap of a finger. I really love this moment when I surge towards him with a reflex I always am surprised by. My body sways at him, my tits standing perky and taut, the nipples excited at the brush of his fingers and the heady crazy moment when the cunt begins to get slippery all at once.
He knows what’s happening to me and he lets the tension build as he expertly moves away concentrating on untying my thong this time and I can hear his hushed breath as he looks at me once the silken wisp of the panty falls to my feet. He lets my hair tumble down wildly from its secured clasp allowing it to frame my flushed face and he stands back for a minute to simply look at me in my bare primal urge. I feel like a primitive goddess before him, in this moment pregnant with infinite possibilities and charged with an intensity of desire we are so gripped by that we can hardly speak. I feel my mouth going dry while my groin begins to drip as I see his crotch bulge with his hardening prick, and his jaws tightening from the effort of keeping a leash on his own driving passion.
There is restless energy here as we grapple with the increasing flow of hormones around us and I beg Master to take me but he is a skilled player and he knows how to turn on the heat to his voyeuristic advantage. He turns back to the bed and takes off his shirt letting me drool over his broad chest and tapering hip that I love so much. He knows the effect he wields on me and confidently stares back as I feast on his attractive physique, feeling my pulse accelerating with mounting desire for him. Then he sprawls himself languidly, spreading his hard legs over the soft satin sheets and orders me to stand against the wall with my hands behind me.
I automatically thrust out my body, revealing alluringly the small and firm round breasts and the neat contours of my narrow waist, my slightly flaring hips swaying ever so slowly as the slippery cunt craves for Master and his hard body. I moan softly with feverish desire to him and Master rises from the bed purposefully and takes a pair of clamps with which he tortures my twins. The nipples are pinched beyond belief and I know nothing but a mad steady heat engulfing my limbs as the pain hits me and I cry out to Master to take me and ram his long coiled prick into me and let me have my release.
He shakes his head and says, “Baby you got to come on your own” and then he turns me around and lightly whacks my butt. There is a mad rush of endorphins and I can barely stand as the hand comes down on the other cheek harder this time. He repeats his strokes on my ass till I am shaking each time in pre-orgasmic shudders and I know that my come is now just a gesture away. Master pulls me around once again to face him and this time touches the clamps with a brush of his fingers sending a tremor down my groin. Aahhh, he does it again and looks at my dripping cunt as he orders me to come, and I can feel my breasts heaving and my pelvis grind as I lurch unsteadily towards Master and squirt right into his crotch.
“Oh Baby”, he cries and plants his lips on my scorching breasts pulling out my clamps as I spew out a long jet at him in pain and pleasure and he can hardly contain his excitement as I do it again and again…five times! It requires just one long stare and a husky plea from my master to get me going, as he stands facing me and I keep coming at every exhortion he makes, creamed and dripping as I am, when he pants, “Come baby come, come for me, love”. The abdominal muscles twitch, the pelvis rises and the vaginal lips open wide as the cunt comes pouring in a rush of energy, fascinating to both me and my man. And all this, without his laying a finger in my genitals …
But I now want his hands on me , his lips on my cunt and of course his hard dick inside and I throw myself at him as he picks me up showering kisses on me and takes me to bed, plunging his shaft into my slippery vagina as I come again in throbbing relief… a bite in my neck and I am coming again. Master thrusts his come covered prick into my mouth and I suck him lustily and take him deep in my throat. He loves the way I go up and down his rod till he is wild, choking me while ramming it and cumming deep down in my gullet...
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What it means to be a submissive
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Posted:May 10, 2007 3:37 am
Last Updated:Oct 11, 2015 10:09 am 11849 Views
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Submission and subordination are possible as "acts of immediate experience" and by their very nature beyond structured logical reasoning. The physical route to such surrender is made available only by an act of faith which then allows the individual to submit herself to a higher, desirable entity and is a comprehensive experience unmediated by the normal processes of the mind.
The basic impulse therefore of submission of one's ordinary self to a higher and consequently lovelier will and state is invested with something close to a religious feeling, of being absorbed , as it were, in a sublime medium, perhaps a more refined and ideal state of the self. Subordination thus becomes a desirable state of existence, in a constant attempt at progression, in which the submissive finds spiritual and physical fulfillment that is not transcending but actually and essentially consummating. Therein lies the gratification in submisive acts :like the ideal union of the powerful masculine passion and strength with its complement, a beautiful feminine allure and grace. This in my opinion is the natural consequence of the submissive's need for desire, temptation and surrender which culminate in an epiphanic path to knowledge, of the self and the other,
and thus, to peace.
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Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
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Posted:Mar 26, 2007 4:18 am
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2015 6:14 am 10874 Views
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Master was aggressive that evening as he kissed me hard on the mouth, holding me so tight he took the breath out of me. It was as though he wanted to hurt me and I longed for the comfort I always found when I was wrapped in his arms. Sadly none of that was available and I tried to look at him but he thrust me away from him after he had smooched me leaving me gasping and wondering. He then pulled me down on to his lap on the edge of the bed where he sat and then turning me across his knees spanked my ass thoroughly till I cried to be let off. Well, he was upto some business and I struggled and squirmed before he relaxed his hands on my burning ass and I gingerly got out of his hold. Master next ordered me to position myself on the bed, my head bowing over it with my two hands gripping the edge, the body bent from the waist so that my ass was thrust high into the air . Master came quickly and stood behind me squeezing jelly out of a tube and began to artfully lube my ass and I felt no shame strangely as I perched my ass on my legs and gave in to him to prepare me for the anal fuck. It was not something we did everyday and there was a little excitement in the anticipation of it.
As he smoothened lumpfuls of the lube down the hole of my arched ass, I heard the footfalls of someone enter the room. It was a tough looking dark and stocky man of about forty, who silently came and stood beside Master and me. I stiffened at this invasion but Master gripped my hands to ensure he was around and simply asked me to climb to the bed. I was completely in the nude and I could not bear to turn around to see the man, so I lay down with my back to him. Master continued to rub the lube sensuously now into my ass and pushed two fingers in to test the elasticity and I involuntarily swung my hip to accommodate his entry.
He knew what devastating effect he had on me but I was also aware as never before of some sense of humiliation at this witnessing of our private act by a third person I did not know from Adam. Master then pulled off his shirt and pants to reveal his hard prick and he lay himself down on the bed, pulling me on top of him him. I was mesmerized and knew I was in some sub space as my body slid down on him completely unmindful of the other and I straddled his stiff cock joyfully, coming in little rushes as I went up and down the slippery road while he alternately sucked my tits biting and playing with the nipples as he loved to.
Then Master summoned the guy and immediately my body recoiled as I felt the two hands of this alien person hold my hip in place before he climbed over me and Master, who was ramming me from below. So here was the three-way Master had always fantasized about and I did not quite know how to react. I looked back once and saw him fondle his prick until it grew big and thick. I felt panic gripping my insides as the big guy descended onto me and I imagined his thick lubricated prick getting ready to go down my ass. He steadied my gyrating hip from the rhythmic ramming that was coming from Master and pushed the point of his prick slowly into my tight ass. I flinched and clung to Master buying my face in his neck, but Master held me tight and steady as the condomed prick of the other entered into my arched ass.
I felt the heat of shame rise into my cheeks and into my body which seemed now to be a mere mass of flesh for the taking. Oh, Master, help me, I cant allow this, I thought and dug closer into his groin while the harder organ from above moved inexorably like a menacing and corpulent snake into my nether zone. I sensed a deep violation in the way this complete stranger abused my innermost sanctity, handling me as if I were a commodity for public service and I struggled emotionally even as I felt a greater rush of sensation in my erogenous pit, as Master began slapping my face even as I ground into him. The prick from above pushed harder now, the unfamiliar intrusion creating ripples of sensation, and I felt a striking of nerves inside me as the two pricks pushed inside me in unison. The starting was slow, as I would go down into master while the prick from top eased and as I slid up from my master, the other cock would snake deeper into the ass. And then the ramming got faster and the two pricks nearly pushed simultaneously in my body as I was squeezed tight between the two bodies, the tremendous ache inside searing but also bringing the strange attendant but familiar rush from somewhere deep inside, making me shout out and cry with primal urge. Fuck me, fuck me hard, the words escaped from me involuntarily. Here I was, a proud and independent woman, reduced to a simple slut, a carnal beast taken by two men, my own Master and a complete stranger.
How could I enjoy this, but sure enough I was a participant too and I rocked from prick to prick in cunt and ass, only a membranous wall separating these two male organs, pleasuring me till I screamed. The stranger whacked my ass and pulled my hair as he got into frenetic and heated arousal calling me bitch as he pumped his big thick dick into my small ass while Master slapped my face with one hand and squeezed my nipples hard with the other. There were far too many forces assaulting my tender body. All I knew finally was the mad, mad rush of orgasm as I hollered, master urging me to cry out loud as I came rapidly in short bursts. Come you woman, my slut, he shouted as he too came while the other guy panted, his hips moving back and forth in frenzied succession tearing my anal walls, I thought, his balls slapping onto to my ass as his prick buried itself somewhere deep in my intestine, and I screamed till I thought I would die. The guy roared as he came in his rubber and with one heavy jolt, pulled away from my ass and slid off the bed. I did not look back and felt the sticky mess of my own come between my legs as Master gathered me into his arms
After what seemed a long silence, I moved my numb legs from my masters thighs and looked at him .He was stroking my cheeks, wet with sweat from the exercise and pulling me close to his chest where I rested my face. He wrapped his big and strong arms around me and planted a kiss on my forehead. And I comforted, shut my eyes making that final surrender to his care.
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With my back to the Wall
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Posted:Mar 21, 2007 2:45 am
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2019 6:47 am 10982 Views
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The moment I had uttered those words I knew I was going to be in trouble: Master’s eyes narrowed, he pursed his lips and slowly repeated them breaking each syllable into the grim and cold finality of their formidable prospect. “Forgot to do it?” He pushed me out of his warm embrace and looked at me with contempt. I could see in his eyes what I thought was the hurt that I had not cared to complete the little task he had assigned me over the weekend. I had clearly failed and Master was naturally annoyed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up a magazine saying he did not wish to see me. My heart sank heavy into my breast and I found myself speechless at Master’s reaction and my own folly. Then he swung his legs on to the bed and turned over to the other side and without looking at me asked me to go stand in the corner furthest from where he sat on the bed. He added that I was not to speak and that I should hereafter simply obey his instructions. I absorbed what he said, with a clutching feeling in my heart and my head bent low in despair. Then he shouted, “Go woman, do as I say!” and I shook myself out of my momentary reverie and with heavy steps walked to the corner near the bathroom door and stood silently.
I had dressed carefully in the little red skirt Master liked so much, but now it felt so absurd to be standing with my back to the wall in this tight sexy dress, head hanging in shame as I tried to gather my thoughts. Master looked once at my demeanor and probably finding me not repentant enough scornfully spoke to me. “You think you are submissive, docile and Master’s slave? You think you are unique, beautiful and can get away with your little numbers? But you are just a little tart, nothing better than a selfish and conceited bitch!” His words stung and each sentence was a poisoned dart sticking into my heart. I flinched and my face grew red at Master’s scathing criticism. It hurt more than anything that he thought I was selfish when I could do just any darned thing he put me to. I had punished my breasts, slashed them, tortured my nipples, clamped my clit and dripped my breasts and cunt with hot molten wax when he wanted me to and I readily undertook each such instruction with the seriousness of a mission and the sanctity of worship.
For, I loved this man, and could die for him. He loved me with equal intensity and I knew I had no business to make him angry or displease him with such acts of oversight and carelessness. I knew he was right but it was shaming that he had to give me a dressing down. I listened to him, not daring to meet his eyes and then came the most cruel and chilling verdict. He said, “You need disciplining, you slut. So you are not going to come near me or speak to me for the next three days. When you have adequately remorsed about the lapse in your submissive behaviour, and when I am convinced of your penury, you will come back to my arms.” I had been duly punished for Master was taking away the very earth from under my feet. He knew how I lived for him day and night and that without him I was lifeless and could barely exist. He was not in the mood for compassion and as I wept softly and inconsolably, I saw he picked up his magazine and went back to reading.
I stood silently, I could not defend myself for Master had taken away my speech, but my grief at being shunned by the very man I worshipped was overbearing. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I felt so small and useless. Oh, why had I forgotten the small task of writing my daily journal, which I was to submit to him that day? I lived constantly in his thoughts then how could I do this? A feeling of self-disgust and pity arose in me and I looked towards Master pleadingly. Would he reconsider his decision, I implored with my tearful eyes. Master was not interested: he sized me up once again with his scrutinizing look and turned back to his reading.
My feet were weary in those high boots and my body wished for a little comfort from his touch. I imagined he would soon come round and plant that lingering kiss on my mouth and say, “Its ok baby, relax. I love you” But today was different. And I felt chastened by his admonishing. He was my Master and his word was the final truth for me. I knew it was difficult to stand away from him and say nothing but I began to slowly realize that I did not resist his imposition on me. In fact I began to feel a sense of greater duty and responsibility that he cared to chastise me. I was sad but curiously also more fulfilled: this was no tenuous bond between a man and a woman. It was a primordial and deep relationship between the lord and his chosen one.
So my suffering and ignominy would end in greater submission to my Master. He was ostensibly harsh but under that veneer there was amazing kindness, and I was no stranger to it. I was softer for it and the pain of being spurned, the humiliation of seeming self centred, and most of all the failure to please my Master worked in a strange dynamic that is perhaps difficult to explain to someone who is not initiated into the bold and esoteric ways of bondage-domination. I now hardly resisted my Master’s punishment: it was as if he had prepared me for this greater self-realisation all along. Master looked at my calm face and he relaxed. He had evidently traveled with my transition from petulant defiance and shock to this new avatar of quiet acquiescence. A silent communication passed between us and I knew I was in safe hands. Master softened and his gaze now wrapped me in his protective care. I had been taught this lesson that I thought was important to understand when evolving towards the desired plane of submission and self effacement necessary for the higher life we aspired for. I felt a slow radiance and warmth in this moment of isolation and introspection. I looked at him, my man with new found respect and a love that transcended all our other immediate needs. This was sublimation of another kind.
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Caged In London
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Posted:Mar 12, 2007 1:56 am
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2019 6:49 am 10829 Views
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Master was in an expansive mood and whispered all the endearments I loved to hear after he had made long and lazy love to me that rainy Saturday evening. He traced the length of my back with his index finger teasing me gently till I shivered as he pulled me closer to him in the bed. He was spooning me again and I could barely contain my rousing senses as his hard thighs rubbed my arched ass even as he stroked and squeezed my nipple between his fingers. Then he quietly suggested we take this summer trip to London and try out a fetish club there: he said he wanted me to do an incredibly horny scene tied inside a cage, scantily clad, and allowed to be touched from outside by desiring males for a perfunctory fee. He asked me to imagine the way I could see myself in that role and then narrate it to him. Instantly I turned around in his arms and looked up at him enquiringly. Was he serious? And why should I let other men I don’t know paw me? Master assured me it was going to be thrilling and very steamy and that of course he would monitor the entire scene. I don’t quite know if I was wholly convinced but I was curious.
My mind acted fast and I began to visualize how I would look in that garb. A wispy sheer blouse of black net worn without corset or bra and an impossibly tiny black silk thong tied at the sides, revealing most of the curve of the ass. My hair I fancied would be set in heavy curls down my shoulders and my face made up dramatically with deeply kohled eyes and lots of mascara, rouged cheeks and a shimmery scarlet color on the lips. My cleavage would be rubbed with glitter for that extra zing and the mystical Chinese dragon tattooed on my right breast would complete the sexy tit show.
I would preen in my skimpy attire and be led I imagined by my Master to the four by four cage standing on a two feet high platform in the middle of this hall thronged by several dozen men. There he would himself supervise the way I was to be tied to the bars of the steel cage, my hands raised to the top where they were to be knotted to a hook with silken cords. My feet in six inch spiked heels would be spread apart and each leg secured to bars by the cord on opposite sides of the cage so that I looked like a slut, a defenceless creature perhaps and yet willing to be handled in this crazy erotic game.
I thought I would at least manage to look desirable to begin with though I was not sure what the whole play really entailed. I played out the rest of the scene a little tentatively looking at the possible types of males in the room. There would be all kinds, I suppose and I shut my eyes when I thought I could see the leering look of wolves in the faces of these ostensibly decent men of town. I fancied Master sitting a little away from the cage but within full sight checking out the growing queue of men who were paying him, five pound each, for their turn to touch me. Well, the music now got wildly loud while I felt the rising tension at the thought of alien hands on my body.
I could see the excited men huddle around and heard snatches of the dirty male talk as the first of these ‘players’ came over and walked up the few steps to the cage. He was young, blonde, probably twenty something, and wore a bold smile all over his face as he first inspected me. I turned away from his brazen stare and looked towards Master for some assurance. He looked back from where he sat at his table,(did he seem a trifle worried?) and we silently exchanged our communiqué. His look told me it was fine and he was there for me anyway. I turned to look at my molester and then I stood erect displaying my wares to him frontally. He extended an arm through the bars and angled for my tit while one hand reached for my bare thighs sliding all the way upto my crotch where the thong barely covered my cunt. He was aggressive and I flinched when his hard finger poked at my cunt through the thong, his other hand squeezing out the life of me as his fingers twisted my nipple mercilessly in them as if he would make them bleed. I let out a small cry but I knew I couldn’t demonstrate any negative expression. He had five minutes and he obviously wanted it all. He stroked my face once and I resisted, looking again at Master. I thought I had been told there was to be no facial contact. He was stopped by a bell, which tinkled a few times, indicating he had flouted the norm. Then he pressed himself against the cage one last time and pawed my entire groin groping wildly for a touch of the clit and I felt the heat and shame flood my face as the bloke turned on by the touch began calling me ‘bitch’.
The hall resounded with the deafening cheer of the rest of the guys as my first stepped down leaving me to few moments of respite. But the overarching feeling was one of deep humiliation and I couldn’t bring myself to face Master and I looked down like a helpless creature. The second was a fat middling man, and I brushed aside these emotions welling up inside me to face my predator. He was clumsy and his thick fat wrists slid through the bars with some effort as he straight away made a swipe at my breasts. The nipples stood taut in the transparent blouse and I lurched a little from the assault as he grabbed both tits. Oh, he was ugly and I looked at everything but his ogling eyes. He breathed heavily as his blood rushed I thought and I felt like a lamb before the kill in his rough hands. He was in a hurry and he slapped my ass hard and shot all his fingers right through the crack rubbing his hand up and down my ass till it burned. This was nothing short of molestation and I threw an alarmed look at Master, pleading… but Master was avidly watching the show, nursing a drink in his hand and looking relaxed while I struggled with these greedy men. A sudden rush of tears came to the eyes but I clenched my lips firmly and looked back defiantly at the fat guy. He was turned on I guess and he shoved his fist into my ass, slapping the cheeks with his other hand now.
There were loud jeers , from some men who were in the queue while a few were restlessly shouting, “get off its our turn’’, “she is mine” and the like. The third guy seemed more genteel, tall and lean like Master, with sensitive hands I thoughts as he eased his long arm into the cage. He tugged at my arm gently as if to draw me closer and then began to stroke my tits arousing a faint excitement in me. He ran his hand over my narrow waist and the slight swell of the hips and slid down to my crotch resting it for a few moments there before pulling at the thong. He was smart and he evidently knew his way. I closed my eyes to respond as it were, but then he shoved two lean fingers to push the thong aside and then slid them into the split, something I was clearly not prepared for. He feverishly ran his fingers deeper while I reacted sharply saying, “no!” and he was hardly aware as he thrust his tightly clad legs out on the bars of the cage as if wanting to ram his body at me. I squirmed at this new assault, though I was aware of my groin quivering from this mad stimulus and scared I looked at Master, and alternately at him to go slow with his riotous hands. Looks were after all deceptive and my sense of violation rose with every crafty move by this man. Thankfully the bell rang like some anonymous saviour and he gave me one lusty look and blew a kiss at me and descended from the platform.
The next guy was desperate: vest of gold and black leather trousers. He looked like out of a XXX hard porn film and I even smelt the acrid breath of liquor on his mouth as he rushed to pull me to him. He drove his hands up my legs and pinched me everywhere till I screamed. He looked perverse to me and I shut my eyes while he pawed me in vulgar fashion, cupping my breasts over the sheer blouse and drooling with his lips lolling at the sight before him. He could be sick I thought and I was relieved that my cage was locked from the outside, the key to which only Master had. Oh I wished Master would stop this dangerous game. There were still quite a few men in the line and I could hardly wait for the last man to be done. My arms were aching from being up and my feet while discomforted also added to my sense of being so slutty, spread as they were for these men’s fun. Master was still lounging in his chair, probably onto his next drink by now and I did not like the idea of his being willing witness to such a spectacle. I felt cheapened, quite like a and most of all used.
There were several different touches by the rest of the men, none too special to describe. The movements of their hands were as different as the men, though: thick fingers, fat wrists, lean wiry hands, moist stick arms, pot belly one of them, one looking quite like a gay, I thought. Sadly there was none I would willingly and gladly allow to touch me and though I had a wildly sexual urge by now to come big and long I held myself back. I knew I was dripping wet and my tits were hard and standing up shamelessly, but I was mixed up inside and I knew that if Master came to take me now I would slump into his arms and cry my heart out. My thong was pushed way up my ass by now and my blouse too disheveled from all the groping slided down one of my shoulders: I must have looked like a mauled woman on the street and the idea seemed shocking as it was sizzling. The men crowded around the cage to say all kinds of things as they were asked to leave. The young dandy whispered , “Hey, little , share my bed with me tonite” while another chap offered to help me street walk in Soho. I was ashamed at myself, to say the least.
It was the end of the one hour of play and the result was incredible. I had been hunted but I was intact; my mind was confused, as my Master was clearly pleased but my sexual energy most of all frightened me. I had, I realized, lost control over my physical responses even as I knew that this was crazy. Master walked up and looked at me as my eyes moistened and my lips trembled. He had had his way but he was mine and I was only his woman. He took out the silver key from his pocket and unlocked the cage: he then got into the steel cloister and wrapped his hands around my neck and kissed me full on the mouth. I wept as he untied my feet and then my hands. Slowly he gathered me into his arms, his eyes darkening and covering me with his long coat said “let’s go home”
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Master and his Magic
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Posted:Mar 5, 2007 1:27 am
Last Updated:May 5, 2009 12:34 pm 10811 Views
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He leaned against the bed, his long frame sprawled lazily on it as he watched me with that enigmatic look I never failed to get turned on by. I was stark naked, and I thought he rather liked gazing at me this way, in the raw, standing before him in my spiked stilletoes only. He was fully dressed and I had the urge to tear off his shirt and climb on to his bare hard chest and straddle him that very instant. But I had to observe the rules of the game.
He gestured to me to stand back and then asked me to keep my legs a little apart. I thrust out my narrow hips, my tits standing taut on my slender body and I adopted the pose of a pin up model, with hands on my hips, one leg bent forward a little, my long hair cascading down wildly over my toned shoulders. I stared brazenly at Master, the lust flaring in my groin reflected in the passionate smouldering of my eyes, and I knew how Master’s own eyes darkened a fraction as he took in the tempting sight of his woman’s invitation. I was a wanton and I simply had to get my man and I clearly knew how. Only master had a different agenda.
He asked me to clamp my breasts and he came over from the bed and handed me more than a dozen pins with which I had to torture my twins. The accidental brush of Master’s sleeves against my bare arms as he stood near me sent a ripple of wild excitement and I swayed towards him. He moved away even as I could see from the dark eyes and his tightly clenched jaw that he was trying hard to hold back. He deliberately avoided making contact with my eyes, I reckoned.
My legs were shaky and I felt the moistness between them now. As I clamped the first of the pins on to my breast I watched his handsome face for reactions. I saw in his eyes no apparent change while I winced from the sharp sting of the pin squeezing the sensation out of my soft flesh. I did not look away from him as I fixed the next few pins and the rising pain mirrored in my eyes, I thought, caused him to wonder how I even did it. He stretched his legs as if to settle down for this rare show of pain infliction and I felt the burning ache spread over my entire chest. My cunt was now wet and I had the irresistible urge to slide my finger in: better still I wanted Master to take me roughly, even assault me and hump me wildly on the floor after he had licked my dripping cunt. There was this mad rush of desire swamping me and yet, Master remained unfazed, as it were, lazed on the bed watching this strange ritual of denial and submission.
I took on the most painful part of squeezing the hard nipple now into the small clenching mouth of the pin and I let out a small cry of pain, my eyes suddenly misting with the shooting shock that went up my brain as the blood rushed into my head. Master stiffened a little and I entered a new heady space where the boundaries between pain and pleasure were slowly blurring out. My legs automatically spread wider as I adjusted my posture, my body loosening out now and I felt I was drowned by the inebriating pain of being clamped everywhere. Somewhere deep inside a mad surge of heat was enveloping my lower body and I was drawn towards Master but he stopped me and simply whispered, “come baby, come”. I looked at him his torso flat and broad, tapering to his slim hips as he reclined on the soft bed, his legs spread out rock like and hard and I noticed the now obvious bulge in his pants, the prick straining against the dark corduroy trousers.
Oh Master, take me now I cried. His face was flushed and I too felt the raging fire in my face as I now became aware of the slow but rhythmic surge of my vaginal lips, the lips swelling out and the erogenous clit twitching in titillation while the orgasmic juices worked their way surely to a head. My legs stirred from the hot desire, my hips unconsciously gyrated as I pushed out my pelvis and my face was thrown back in this horny moment of arousal. I knew I was going to come. With any direct stimulation of my cunt or my clit. There was no stopping as Master crooned to me, come, you bitch, come like my slut and I let out a slow moan as I felt the thick rush of come releasing from the cunt, even as my body shuddered and shook. Master was gripped by this wild orgasmic drive, unaided by touch or physical stimulation, and he cried hoarsely, come my baby keep coming and sure enough, I was floating and letting out a long squirt this time. The water shot some two feet into the air and then trickled down my legs and I laughed and cried at myself, as I steadied my legs and shouted to master, I love you, honey and then before I knew I was squirting again, in small rapid jets, again and again and Master counted all of six comes.
He now got off the bed and came to me and I knew this was the moment to die for …I had waited for his participation and here was my man, ready for action. He kissed me full on the mouth taking my very breath away as he felt the dripping cunt with his fingers and then pulled me roughly to him. I squirted immediately into his pants and he gasped in amazement. But, oh those clamps hurt like crazy and Master pulled back while he asked me to take them off. I unclamped my breasts letting the blood flow back into my tits and chest, the pain shooting in while Master whispered how much he loved me, gently and softly wrapping me in his embrace. Then he picked me in his arms and put me on the bed, as he took off his shirt and climbed over me while I tugged feverishly at his straining pants…
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Pins and Needles
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Posted:Feb 26, 2007 1:36 am
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2015 6:41 am 10852 Views
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I had got caught in the sudden shower – when I arrived home I was nearly drenched, my hair dripping and my shoes soggy. Kicking away my heels, I stepped into the bathroom and was stripping out of my wet clothes when Master called. He sounded soft and intense – rubbing myself with the towel I imagined how wonderful it would be to simply fall into his arms, and my body moist from the shower surged with desire. He breathed heavily into the phone and sensing my changed voice (as it invariably did when I spoke this way to him) asked me to get two dozen clothes pins.
Still wrapped in the towel I brought out the new pack of pins and then stood naked before the mirror. Master then told me to take ten and clamp all of them on each breast neatly. I fixed the first untried pin onto my flesh a little shakily, on the far side of the right breast where the skin would be less sensitive I thought. It hurt pretty much, and I took up the next closer to the rising curve of my breast, the fine skin squeezed suddenly by the menacing little clip. The pain was so much sharper, that I winced; with the third clamp on the tit, next to where the nipple now stood out taut and hard, my breast came under a shooting ache.
The head went a little dizzy, as I shut my eyes and listened to my Master goading me on to fix the rest of the devices on to my tit. In concentric circles I arranged the pins around the swell of the breast and it was fascinating how I tolerated the rising pain that was now spreading like wild poison into the body. I registered the changing sensation as with each new pin I fastened and tortured the soft skin till the pain ceased to hurt and all I could feel was a hot smouldering rush of fire around my breasts.
I found my voice cracking up as the head seemed to feel lighter even as I could sense the quiver in my groin. Then came the most tricky part when I had to clamp the nipple and I took in a long deep breath and slowly eased the dark brown buttony flesh with my left hand into the open jaws of the white pin and clamped it shut. The blood shot into my head with the pain coming on severely this time and I bit my lip to stop the cry while Master whispered, “its alright baby, you ‘ll be fine”. I found renewed strength in his soft urgings as he seemed to understand each new sensation that oversaw my willing surrender into his submission.
I went through the whole ritual of fixing another ten pins on the other breast but this time I was already in some sub space, the pain less acute but the effect more potent as my entire being seemed to be enveloped in a dizzy awareness of floating. Looking at the mirror I saw myself in this strangely kinky avatar: nude woman, hair wildly tousled, driven like a junkie into this bizarre scene. But something was quite arresting there; the sight of ten pins on each tortured breast like some ancient voodoo woman stuck with pins and needles participating in a primordial act of love and longing, pain and pleasure, raw sensuality and divine sublimation. It could not have been more stark and intense.
I was only now dimly aware of master around me, holding me, as it were, while I enacted the last part of the scene: Master asked me this time to clamp each of the lip of my cunt with two pins. My breasts were weighed down with the burden of so many pins and as I bent to survey my groin I felt the sudden and brief jolts of pain as my arm brushed against my armoured chest. I felt as vulnerable as an armadillo caught unawares in the wild.
It was difficult to reach down there and feel for the now absolutely wet cunt and fix a clamp onto the hanging swollen lip. I could barely keep it on as the excruciating pain seized me anew and I cried out to master as I went into this heightened torture. I seemed to be slowly spinning out of the conscious awareness of physical pain and I vaguely registered the tangible shift from the sheer tactile feeling of pain to one of a heady and sweeping intoxication. The second clamp sent this one side of my cunt into a paralysed state of numbness and by the time I had fixed the two others onto the other lip I was like an immobile wooden statuette. My hands hung lifelessly, to my sides, my breasts under fetters, my face wildly dazed from the ‘high’ of this pain trip, my legs awkwardly apart as four pins assaulted my cunt, I was now transmitted into a surreal plane of sexual adventurism. The cunt dripped slowly and I sensed the coming of a long orgasm as I began to whisper hoarsely to Master, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me hard and deep”.
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Of Nietzsche and Nipple clamps
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Posted:Feb 19, 2007 2:00 am
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2015 6:42 am 10985 Views
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It was a Monday morning and the blues were at their severest. I had not heard from Master, had pined for him the whole night before and I hardly felt like going to work. Feeling wooly in the head I made a mental note of the new teaching assignment I had undertaken for the day and I tried to get my fact sheet and bibliography together. The phone beeped once and I dashed to the bedside table where it lay. It was a message: “Get your clamps in your bag when you go to work. Keep the phone on. And wait for instructions for nipple clamping.” Master was inimitable in his style. He knew I had missed him, but that I learnt was his way of telling me that he cared.
My face brightened up and a sudden shot of adrenalin seemed to rush into my veins. I hurriedly stripped off my clothes and showered. I then carefully chose to wear a dust pink silk saree and my black alpaca button down long sweater. The day seemed fine as I walked confidently into the hall, ready to begin my lecture on Nietzschean philosophy in western society. It was a dense area and the arguments not always evident in a subject as abstract as this. But there was promise of a call from Master and more to come ... as I studiedly placed the cell phone on the lectern.
More than three-fourths of the lecture was done and I was summing up the ethical reformulations of Nietzsche’s insistence on the struggle for power when the phone beeped insistently, its small blue screen lighting up like a burst of summer sky. Here comes the sun, I thought. My serious audience of the graduate seminar could hardly have guessed what was going on. I excused myself and took my Master’s call in the corridor. He spoke clearly and briefly, asking me to clamp my nipples and finish the rest of the twenty minutes of my talk under the torture. I came back and picking up my bag, I said “two minutes” to the class and rushed out. Heading to the loo I could feel the excitement in my body that this new task had just brought me. Once I shut the door, I got out of my sweater and pulled up my corset-blouse. I had come braless, prepared for the act, and the breasts swung out of the silk corset. My nipples hardened at this sudden baring and taking the clamps out of my bag I fixed one of them to the right nipple.
The staggering pain hit the head but I had no time to stare and clenching my teeth I took on the other nipple. This was holy murder! In an instant, the ache spread riotously over the breasts. I could feel the blood rise to my face, but I had no choice and I pulled back the blouse slowly, avoiding any rough brush against the clamps and fixed my saree back. Then came the sweater over it, concealing my primitive bondage, as it were, and drawing the lapels close together, I swung out of the loo, my upper body feeling the excruciating pain of two plastic clamps gnawing at my nipples.
I winced in the sheer torture of it but I remembered Master’s quiet instruction and steadying my motion, I walked towards the hall. It was with a distinct sense of purpose that I trod the path up the hallway. The breasts heaved under the pain, but also, I knew, with the fullness of love. It somehow made me want to cry. This was my intensely private connection with him even though we were miles apart. The breasts by now were burning with agony, a slow heat spreading down my mammary glands.. My dear love, my Master, oh see what I do for you! A hushed silence fell across the hall as the class readied to take down the final points of my talk. 1 reiterated Nietzsche’s affirmation of ‘becoming’, even as I silently absorbed the pain, engaged as I was in this private act of transforming myself into my master’s eternal submissive.
Striving to drive home the metaphysics of this philosopher, I was faced with my own beguiling state, my ready acceptance of such incredible pain. The talk of “the will to power” was juxtaposed against my own sweet desire for surrender. There was a sudden flash in my mind of the painting of the pierced body of the Christian martyr saint, St Sebastian that I had seen in the Uffizi in Florence. His face had worn a rare expression of radiant peace. I wondered if I was even remotely like him even as the carnal and strangely primordial instincts of pain and pleasure were enveloping my being.
My raised hand making a little explanatory gesture unsuspectingly brushed against my right breast, sending a sharp shooting pain across my breast. I drew a quick breath. And steadying myself with the other hand on the side of the lectern, I shut my eyes momentarily, ostensibly in deep concentration, while I reeled from the actual physical pain of the hit. My face was hot from the twin response to torture and titillation, and I realized that the earlier acute pain had now diffused to a general throbbing dull ache over the entire torso.
The clamps were there but no longer felt like they on the nipples alone, with a numbness and a slow indolence sweeping over me. A hand went up from among the audience and I stopped realizing that my time was over. Sinking into the chair, I waited to listen to the query from the scholar. Shielded from complete frontal visibility in this posture, I slowly slipped my right hand between the folds of my sweater and groped my way up to feel if the clamps were in place. The one on the right had moved halfway and was standing up, probably sticking out from under the sweater, but now it hardly mattered. I patted it back under the corset, pulled the lapels closer and stood up again to address the question, briefly but conclusively.
The class would have hardly noticed what was sartorially amiss! Finishing the lecture on that note I waited for the hall to empty and then gathering my papers I sat down in the chair. I could now consciously feel the wetness between the legs and the hot rush of blood in my brains. The clamps had to come off. This was the toughest moment. I slowly pushed my hand inside my sweater and sliding it up I carefully pulled off the clamp from the right nipple, with a muffled little cry of pain. It felt like I had slashed the delicate skin there, and immediately there was the sting of tears in my eyes. The left seemed tougher still. It was somehow impossible to do this one with just the right hand. So still clamped on the left nipple, I stood up, and went back to the loo.
Dropping off the end of the saree from my breast, I yanked up the blouse and holding the breast with the left hand I slowly eased out the clamp with the right. The sudden gripping pain returned in full fury and I bit my lips and drew in a long deep breath, to recover from the shock. The nipple was engorged and the breast swollen from the bondage. It reddened as the blood eased back into the soft creamy flesh. I looked at the watch: twenty five minutes of nipple-torture. I had done five minutes more than what Master had recommended. Looking at my face in the bathroom mirror, I could see a faint flush on the cheeks. The signs of pain were not visible but the eyes registered a strange, new, mystical look. I did not have the peaceful visage of the saint I thought, but I had clearly journeyed and seen a little more. And Master would know exactly where and what. I picked up the phone and slowly keyed in his number…
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