In the foyer, Kelly hung my cape in the closet and opened the locks on my shoes so I could remove them and the nylons. Margaret had fashioned the corset so the garters were removable, and I followed Kelly’s instructions to take them off. Wearing only the corset, chains and collar, I crawled, on hands and knees, to the master, oops, “Mistress,” bathroom. Kelly’s leash was still connected to my vaginal ring. This time, though, she was behind me so, in a sense, I was leading her. “We may do this more often, slut. I know slaves should follow their mistress, but this view of your ass while you crawl is not to be missed.”
I laughed at her commend and at the way the charms, hanging down from my nipples, swayed while I crawled. When she suggested that I pee, I replied I really didn’t need to. “Little one, I can guarantee that you will need to sooner than later, and you won’t be able to later, at least not in the way you would like. Let’s just say that if you wait, you will be peeing into a bucket.”
She then watched, never releasing the leash, as I relieved my bladder. After this still-embarrassing task, compounded by seeing her holding the leash as I peed. Just before my water stopped, she put her fingers into my stream and held her wet fingers in front of my lips. Without any hesitation, I opened my mouth automatically giving her permission, which she didn’t need, of course, to insert her fingers so I could suck my salty urine from them. “Thank you, Mistress,” I said. She smiled as I tore off and folded a couple sheets of toilet paper and wiped myself. She then took her turn on the porcelain throne. I knelt before her, watched her urine flow from her body, and substituted my tongue for toilet paper. Lapping up the remaining drops of her golden wine, each time she finished, was now a privilege.
In case I didn’t describe it, Kelly’s bathroom was larger than the combination living/dining room in my apartment. To say it was plush is an understatement. There was a shower with three heads; two removable, hand-held style, mounted on opposite walls, and a square, European rainfall head in the center. The shower was large enough that doors were not required to keep the water from splashing out. And, of course, there was the tub in which I bathed her before dinner. We had used it before, too.
There was a large two-sink vanity directly across from the shower. The space between the sinks was large enough that I could lie flat out on it. And, of course, there was the “porcelain throne’ and a bidet. I had never seen or used a bidet and for some reason, Kelly had not permitted me to try it.
There were two other pieces of furniture; an armless upholstered chair and an upholstered chaise longue.
After I undressed Kelly, she pulled on a white satin robe but let it hang open. Her breasts were covered, but her midsection was exposed from her neck down to her shaved pussy. Her hard nipples were evident beneath material,
“Stand and present, facing the chair, slut.” She moved behind me and slowly rubbed her hands over my ass. I enjoyed the touch of her fingers against my skin. I know she felt the slight shudder that moved through my body. “I love your beautiful ass, little one,” she commented as she cupped and squeezed my orbs. I exhaled a loud moan when she slid a finger up my crack and pressed it against my anus. Um, sensitive tonight, aren’t we?”
Touching the new collar, she asked, “I absolutely love this metal collar, little one. It truly makes you look more like a slave. I’d like to make you wear it 24/7, but I won’t. We’ll save it for special occasions like tonight. I know it is a little heavy. Are you OK to continue wearing it for a while yet, pet?”
I was surprised she was giving me a choice. “Yes, Mistress, I can continue wearing it as long as you wish. I must admit that, at times, I almost forget I am wearing your leather collar. Having it around my neck just seems so natural. I cannot forget I am wearing this one, however. Thank you for asking, ma’am.”
I inhaled deeply when she put her arms around me and started massaging my breasts and pulling at my nipples and nipple rings to lift them from the shelf bra of the corset. One hand moved down to rub my pussy and flick my clit. “You’re very wet, dear. I like that. It tells me how excited you are.” After a few minutes, playing me like a musical instrument, she moved in front of me, put her arms around me and passionately hugged and kissed me. I wanted to hug her back in the worst way, but she hadn’t released me from the ‘stand and present’ position.
Finally, she sat on the armless chair and laughed. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been together over 2 weeks now, little one. There’s a saying that ‘time flies when you’re having fun.’ Are you having fun, pet?”
“All things considered, My Mistress, I am. I truly am. I love being with you.”
“Is there anything that I have done to you, or made you do, that you regret? Remember, you will never be punished for honesty.”
“As I look back, Mistress, there were several things that came close. I might not have liked or enjoyed them, but I cannot use the Ankara escort word regret. I now know I would do them again for you.”
“I assume, then, that you have no remorse over agreeing to our contract.”
“None whatsoever, My Mistress. I have learned so much about myself from you. I am glad you recognized my hidden anima.
“You may kneel and rest, pet. I want to teach you a new position.”
When I attained position, (kneeling with my ass resting on my legs) she explained, “We will call this your ‘service position.’ You will fully understand the reason for this name in a moment. I want you to lean backwards and grasp your ankles or put your hands on the floor, whichever is more comfortable. You may also bring your knees closer together if necessary because I may want you to hold this position for a considerable length of time. Nod your head when you are ready.” I moved my arms and legs around, but no position was truly comfortable. When I indicated that I was satisfied I could hold the position, she said, “Now lean your head back so you are looking up at the ceiling.”
I didn’t even realize she had stood up until I felt her robe brush my body. When she was near my feet, she leaned down and tenderly kissed me. Raising her head a little more than an inch she whispered, “Do you know what is going to happen now, slut?”
“I believe I am going to service my Mistress, ma’am.”
“You are so fucking smart, kimmy.” She moved forward until she was directly above my mouth. “Ok, my beautiful slut, I don’t think you need any additional instructions.”
She lowered her hips so her beautiful, wet pussy was pressing lightly on my mouth. I had already pushed my head back as far as possible, so I could, literally not move, except to stick my tongue out as far as it would go. Kelly controlled where I licked by moving back and forth across it, from her clit to her anal flower. I licked and continually thrust my tongue into her treasure pot. After what I assumed to be an hour (probably 5 minutes), she said, “OK, pet, I’m ready. Suck on my clit until I climax. Not only did I suck, I simultaneously flicked her clit with my tongue. As she went over the mountain, she reached down, grabbed both my tits and squeezed hard.
Moving off my face, she ordered me to stand, looked at me and said, “Gawd, kimmy, your face is a mess. She then surprised me by licking her juices from it. Afterward, she slipped her middle finger between my legs and announced, “You’re dripping wet, slut. I assume you want to cum.”
“If it pleases My Mistress.”
“Well, it doesn’t. Maybe later. You can clean my finger, though.” I enjoyed sucking my juices from it. Yes, I am a slut.
“I promised you some sensuous pain, dear. Come with me. She permitted me to walk upright, this time, as I followed her, two steps back and to her left, again at the end of her leash, to the playroom where she introduced me to a new piece of furniture that had been delivered during my short absence. I was not sure what to make of it until Kelly explained that it was my new chair. I could imagine it being a chair but had no idea what the purpose of all the parts might be. The main part, probably the back, was an upright, square post extending about three and a half feet high, attached to the back of a small platform. A small, narrow board, about the size of a book, was attached to the post about a foot and a half above the platform. Obviously, this flat board was the “seat.” Another board, about four feet long, was attached to the top of the upright post to form a T. Several eyebolts were embedded in the platform, the post and the T. I stared at it for a long time while she removed my corset, and still couldn’t figure out the purpose of the whole contraption, except the part Kelly said was a chair.
Following her instructions, I sat on the small board and held my arms out while she buckled wrist cuffs on them. Ankle cuffs followed. I watched her while she removed two shoeboxes from the storage shelves. She opened the first box and placed it on the platform in front of me. It contained ropes, straps and what I recognized as carabiners with Screwgate locks. She raised my arms to the horizontal bar forming the T and connected my wrist cuffs to eyebolts near the ends using two carabiners. I watched intently as she strapped my arms to the bar at my wrists, my elbows, the middle of my upper arms and near my shoulders. My ankle cuffs were connected to eyebolts on the platform so that my legs were spread as wide as possible.
The last item that Kelly removed from the box was a leather-covered ring that I guessed to be one and one half to two inches in diameter. Ordering me to open my mouth, she worked the ring inside, just behind my teeth. I could no longer close my mouth. She commented that the purpose of the ring was to keep my mouth open wide and “available” to her. Shit, I could have guessed that much. Straps attached to the sides of this ring were buckled behind my head. When I thought about it for a second, I realized that I probably looked like one of those “blow up” rubber, sex dolls. My ability to talk was severely Ankara escort bayan handicapped since I couldn’t move my jaw.
Kelly sat the second shoebox, unopened, between my legs. “I need to know if I have tied you tight enough, pet. See if you can lift your butt off the seat. I thought that I had outfoxed her when I was able to lift my ass a couple inches. I was the outfoxed one, however. Apparently, rather than being permanently connected to the post, two pegs, imbedded into the seat, and pushed into the post held it in place. I learned this, of course, when Kelly reached beneath me and quickly pulled the seat away. Now the only my arms, strapped to the cross-bar of the T, kept me from falling to the platform. My ass was suspended in mid-air, albeit in a seated position.
Kelly opened the second box, revealing its contents: clothespins. Obeying her next order, I pushed my tongue through the ring and moaned loudly when she clamped the first two pins to the end of my oral muscle, preventing me from pulling it back into my mouth. Suddenly, I was left alone, still hanging, when Kelly walked away saying, “I’ll be back in a few, pet. Don’t go anywhere.” In my opinion, it was a damn feeble attempt at humor on her part. I could neither laugh nor smile in reply, had I wanted to do either.
As soon as she returned, I knew that whatever she had planned would all be worth it. The only clothing adorning her body were black leather bikini panties and black, knee-high boots with spike heels. Charms like what I was wearing, only slightly larger, dangled from her nipple rings. One was a coiled whip, and the other was two women making love in the ’69’ position.
It did not take long before I started to understand the consequences of not being supported by the seat. Simply hanging by my bound arms quickly put pressure on my shoulders. Initially, I relieved this strain by using the muscles of my upper body and legs to press against the post. However, these muscles quickly tired and I then had to relax again, putting the strain back on my shoulders. I then tried using only the muscles of my legs to push my body upward. Since anything I tried only worked for only a short time, a vicious circle was created. In addition, my tongue was becoming somewhat numb because of the damn clothespins, although I could still feel some pain. I thought I could get her to remove the pins if I somehow could indicate my discomfort. Being unable to speak, I grunted my desire to her and wriggled the end of my tongue.
“Oooh! It seems as if my widdle pet wants her Mistress to free her tongue so she can speak,” she chided. “Is her Mistress correct?” I quickly nodded my head and grunted a feeble uh-huh. The damn pins shook at the same time. She continued, “Well, love, if you remember correctly, our purpose for being here is to satisfy your Mistress’ sadistic desires and to test your limits for pain. She regrets to inform you that her pleasure has just started.” I winced when she added two more pins to the side of my tongue. “Since your vocal ability is somewhat restrained, I will recognize an attempt at singing as your safe word.”
Even though I could not avoid it, I was somewhat embarrassed by the dribble of saliva that was now exiting the corners of my mouth and falling from my chin onto my chest.
Quickly divested of my own nipple hardware and chains, I suddenly felt naked (pun intended). I watched intently as Kelly reached into the shoebox while commenting, “Tonight, my dear pet, we will do something I’ve started several times while working a scene, but never finished.” Holding up one clothespin, she asked. “Would you like to know what that something is?”
“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I, since I, obviously, am to be intimately involved?” I thought, before politely nodding, slowly this time. As I indicated, movement of my head caused the clothespins to wiggle even harder, exacerbating the pain. It’s a physics thing. The farther an object extends from its fulcrum point, the greater it’s vertical movement. Since the fulcrum point was the center of my tongue, the tip was also moving up and down. Sorry for the physics lesson, but I thought you should understand my problem.
“I’ve never had time to empty my box of clothespins. With your kind assistance, tonight we will finally do just that.
” I moaned through my improvised gag. “I am sure you also want to know how many pins are in the box.” I nodded again. “I’m not really sure anymore but will guess somewhere between fifty and seventy-five. I will count them for you as I put them on so we can get an accurate count for the next time. And,” she continued, “I think there are a couple surprises awaiting you at the bottom.”
Without another word, Kelly grasped the flesh of my arm just above the elbow, between her thumb and index finger, pulled it out, opened the jaws of a clothespin with her other hand and attached the pin to my captured flesh. I immediately knew I was in for a serious session of pain transference. It fucking HURT! Oh, gawd, it hurt. She continued this tactic, slowly and methodically, until my arms were firmly in the grip Escort Ankara of sixteen nasty pins, eight on each.
Totally in silence (hers, not mine), except for the count, Kelly continued her quest, by pinning eight clothespins to the bottoms of each my breasts (sixteen more). I was astonished as I watched them form semicircles of captured flesh about halfway between my nipples and ribcage. These pins hurt even more than the ones on my arms, even though what she and Sam had done during my massage was similar. I think the pain each one extracted was exponentially greater than the previous one. At least I felt that way. I could not help but moan as each jaw clamped over a small piece of my skin.
I assumed my nipples were next, but she fooled me by moving to the insides of my thighs where she applied ten to each. The total pain from the pins gripping my flesh was reaching a critical level and near what I imagined would be my threshold. Tears were now streaming down my cheeks, mixing with the saliva dripping faster from my open mouth. I started to shake my head violently and started to yell at Kelly and, I think, even called her a bitch for putting me through this when she pulled on my left labium. Thankfully my vocal obscenities were made somewhat unintelligible by my pinned tongue. Either that or she was simply ignoring me. I knew it was still a possibility she knew what I was saying, but I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to hum my safety in the worst possible way, but somehow avoided it. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was a masochist and a pain slut. No punishment could be worse than this. Or so I thought.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how many more clothespins were in that fucking box. I couldn’t see into it. I quickly mentally calculated the damage so far and, at the same time, realized that I still had a lot of exposed flesh left to fulfill Kelly’s sadistic desires. The ten she placed on my cunt (5 on each side) had brought the count to sixty-six including the four on my tongue. I closed my eyes in despair when she reached into the box again.
When I opened them (she had purposely waited), she was holding one pin in each hand in front of my face. With a supercilious grin she said, “I’ll bet you think you know where these are going, don’t you, pet?” I nodded and looked down at my unfettered nipples. Wrong! Before I knew what was happening, I was wearing new ear decorations. The pain shot through my lobes. I suddenly wondered how women ever wore those damn clip-on style earrings. Hell, some still do!
When the next pin was clipped to my septum, I groaned loudly one more time and thought to myself, “Sixty-nine is such a nice number. Maybe we should make that the last one.” My thankful heart quickly sank when Kelly reached down to the dreaded box again. I was even closer to humming my ‘safety.’ Maybe pride and narcissism kept me going. I couldn’t let Kelly know she could get the best of me.
She picked up another handful of those tortuous devices and started pinning them to the skin between my toes. If you have never done this, I have one piece of advice. DON’T. I almost breathed a sigh of relief when she announced there were only eight more wooden clothes pins left, adding, “A perfect number. Spread your fingers, dear.” I really wanted to call her every name in the book as she clipped them in place. Again, I recommend DON’T do it. It isn’t bad at first, but the pain intensifies.
“I said those were the last wooden pins, pet, but not the last pins. There are three left. While that might please you initially, I am telling you only because they will be the worst.” She held three large, plastic clothespins up for me to see. “The springs in these are much heavier than the wood ones, and the jaws are serrated.” Two of the pins were pink and one was blue. I knew where they were going. My nipples were already engorged and waiting. Kelly didn’t let me down this time. She captured my left nipple in the jaws of one pink pin. She didn’t lie. The pain from all the previous pins was nothing in comparison. This time it was excruciating. Had I not been in bondage, I would have immediately sunk to the floor and curled into a fetal position. I screamed as much as I could and continued screaming when my other nipple was also clamped.
Delaying the inevitable, Kelly wiped her fingers along my pussy. “You really are a slut. You are enjoying this even more than I thought you would, pet. My cunt is dipping. You left a couple drops on the floor.” The viscous liquid felt good as she wiped her wet digits across my dry lips and a second batch across the top of my tongue. I was breathing through my mouth so hard, my tongue was dry. While I wanted her to do it again, she continued to entertain herself by slipping the index and middle finger of her left hand into my tunnel of love. An endorphin rush quickly enveloped me. In only seconds I knew that I wanted her to fuck me with her hand. With what little movement my bondage position permitted, I attempted to push down on her hand as she pushed up. She stopped after only a few strokes. I moaned. I could not believe that my mistress was continuing to me torment like this. I kept screaming, “Please Mistress.” Try opening your mouth wide, stick your tongue out and say that without moving your jaw. You will know the sound that came from my mouth. It was unintelligible.