Whatever You Want · Part 4 (4/4)
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s and a studded black leather belt. Next came the real painful items. Spring nipple clamps with attached lead weights, a thick candle and lastly a narrow stiff braided leather-riding crop.
husband / master moved back to my side and in his best showman like voice said, "All right my dear and what shall your choice be." He made an exaggerated swing of his arm and pointed to the video camera.
"Will it be door number one and allowing you lovely body and technique to be viewed by others who share our personal interest? Or…” He paused as I watched him and myself on our TV. My body was presented proudly with my breasts thrust forward and my legs elongated and made shapelier by the white strappy high heels. The red lines on my wrists and the heavy gag in my mouth were all that marred the overall picture. I wondered how many other submissive females found themselves in this situation at one time or another. I wondered how many of us there were out there one hundred thousand, two…. my musings were interrupted as my husband
\ master continued, "…. Or…. You can have door number two. Yes, if you choose this door you will be ensconced in a particularly stressful, suspended bondage situation. You will be treated to the best in leather restraints and our famous spring nipple clamps! And just to make things more interesting I will throw in a nice hot wax treatment and a full body switching!" My husband hummed that silly tune that accompanied the jeopardy show, during final jeopardy question as he waited for my answer.
I looked between the two. At that time I noticed another tripod, empty now, but set up so it would have given the camera a perfect view of me when
I was giving him a bound blow job. How many men would look at those images on their computer screens if I acquiesced. I was blindfolded during the entire episodes and wearing sexy costumes that would make it impossible for anyone to be able to recognize me in those pictures.
Who would believe, looking at me on the street in my town and country clothes and flat-heeled shoes that I was the woman from these pictures? How many men would jerk off fantasizing about me in those pictures. It was an exciting thought to think of the power I would have over those many unknown strangers. "Door number one or Door number two", my husband
/ master asked once more. That last thought was the one straw that broke the camels back. No, no, not the power… that illusionary thought passed quickly. It was the sharing of ourselves outside of our marriage that made the choice for me. In a weird way I would be inviting all of those men into our bed with us, and this was something
I couldn’t do. I lowered my head in submission and pointed towards, door number…. two.
I heard or maybe I imagined I heard my husband’s relieved sigh as he continued without missing a beat, "Allrighty then. The lady has chosen door number two and some really great suspension torture." He was totally out of the Fellows role and now into a Jim Carey meets Monty Hall role.
As if he realized that his excitement had pushed him over the edge, he worked hard to compose himself. He turned to me and said, "Please take a few minutes to attend to your personal needs and then re-join me here in the dungeon."
Unbuckling my gag I removed the wet leather from my mouth. I worked my jaw a bit and then replied softly, "Yes, master". I left the room and all of its frightening aspects and entered the bathroom. I cleaned myself out with a quick douche and then re-applied my makeup. I very much doubted that I would be blindfolded this time, so I spent extra time on my eyes and blush. My Colorstay lipstick had done a good job of not wearing off, but I touched it up a bit nonetheless. It helped me, a lot, to handle these normal simple tasks and therefore being able to keep the awaiting trail out of my thoughts.
I knew
I could do this scene. But it was just that this one was taking all of the worst aspects of countless other bondage encounters and putting them all into one scene, I lamented to myself. Forcing the thought from my head, I brushed my auburn / brown hair until it shinned.
I straightened my clothing and re-seated my breasts in their half-cup enclosures.
‘Oh, my poor babies’, I thought as I held my mounds, ‘what am I letting you in for?’ Holding my head high I walked gracefully back into my masters dungeon.
husband / master was behind the camera as I came in. He was zooming in and out on different parts of my features. I posed for the camera, bending one knee forward and arching one foot, as I lifted the heel of the floor, even further. My hands went to hips and I smiled.
Then I turned my head and winked. My husband master / pointed to position on the carpet were he had placed a black X with electrical tape.
I strode over to the spot and made ‘cutesy’ sounds as I looked over at the nearby cloth covered folding tray. "What do we have here", I said putting my frilly-gloved hands to the sides of my face and doing my best Betty Bop dip. I removed the white cloth and covered my mouth with the tips of both hands fingers, my face registered marked surprise and a little fear. "And what am I to do with all of these things….", I feigned my incomprehension. It was amazing that my husband hadn’t stopped my little act, but before I walked back into the room I had sworn to myself that I would play this scenario out beyond even my husband’s wildest dreams. Somehow my husband \ master must have sensed this.
Looking at the tray I picked up the least offensive item and said, "Oh my I guess you want me to put this belt on? Of course you do master, why else would you have laid it out here." I took the three-inch thick leather belt and wrapped it around my waist. I slotted the big D ring into the tightest notch that I could, and then I finished off the rest of its latchings. My husband made a circular motion with his upraised hand from behind the camera. "Silly me, the D ring should be at the back shouldn’t it", I remarked with a light lilt to my voice.
I used both hands to pull and push the tight leather until I felt he ring move into the proper position.
what lovely cuffs", I cooed. Picking one up I held it to my cheek and rubbed it against my soft flesh. Looking at the TV monitor I could see the lovely contrast that my white finger gloves made with the hard black leather. "Let’s see does this go on my wrist", I questioned myself as I slid it over my left wrist. "Oh no, it just a little too large for that. Then of course it must go on my ankle!"
I picked the second leather ankle restraint off of the tray and walked over to a nearby chair. The chair was turned at a forty-five degree angle to the camera and I was sure this would provide a perfect picture.
I sat down gracefully and stretched out one leg before me. The easiest way to put on the binding would have been to cross one leg over the other knee, man-like, and buckle it on. Taking one of the leather cuffs
I bent over and reached out to my extended ankle. This was in part a partial ballet position. Gently I placed the padded cuffs against my ankles. I used the twin buckles to bind the hard black leather to my powder blue sheathed gams. I reversed my posture and repeated the procedure on my second leg. "Oh, my aren’t they just the sweetest things you ever seen", I said cutely as I held both of my legs up from the floor to show off my bindings.
I walked look comfortable at all", I said in mock sadness. I lifted the full harness gag with just one finger and swayed it from side to side as I eyed it sadly. Then I smiled, "But then again, I guess a slave just has to do what a slave has to do". I slid the leather harness over thick curly locks. One strip of leather descended down between my eyes and then formed a triangle about my nose; below this dangled a yellow ball.
I smiled and gave a wave to the camera, "Bye, bye. Talk to you soon."
With that I used both hands to pop the ball behind my teeth. This ball was slightly smaller than the previous one and allowed me to encircle it with full lips, rather than showing off my widely spread teeth.
I continued to finish the bindings of the head harness. I buckled the buckle beneath my chin and then the ones behind my neck and head.
Once it was completed it really was a very attractive item. I could see the black leather straps surrounding my soft white skin and the big yellow ball juicily encased within my dark red lips. I stood and posed a bit pointing out each item with my white lacy finger gloves.
master crossed to the dining room table and retrieved the black leather arm binder. He had me turn my body, so that the camera would have a good view of the proceedings. Being the perfect submissive, I put my arms behind me and steepled my fingers, almost at the same time as he was uttering the instructions to do so. My husband \ master bought the triangle sleeve upwards letting my hands slide down the soft leather.
At the tight bottom I wiggled my hands into the single glove like projection.
When they slid properly in place the remainder of the sleeve surged upwards until the top was only inches below my shoulders.
master tightened the straps, in the same manner that he had tightened my corset. From bottom to top until my shoulder blades were pulled so tightly together that I though they would pop. He removed the triple strand of pearls from about my neck. In its place he buckled the simple soft leather collar that was part of the arm binder sleeve set.
It was attached to the sleeve with another strap and buckle arrangement that made it impossible for the wearer to in anyway shimmy out of the tight cone like leather sleeve. I tried to shrug my shoulders in vain, against the torturous leather sleeve. Anything to lessen the pressure, but all I achieved was a reminder of how painfully strained my shoulder blades were.
From his pocket he removed one of the items that I really had been avoiding, a spring nipple clamp. He pushed the tiny bit of blue fabric away from the tip of my left breast. He kneaded the hard flesh between thumb and fore finger giving it little pinches and pulls as it hardened and lengthened. He opened the spring on one of the clips and slowly brought to up to my breasts. I watched as he used his other hand to use a remote control that had the camera zoom in on my chest and face.
I watched the big screen TV, fascinated as the open clamp moved towards my teat that he still held between two fingers. The metal of the clasps touched me and I jumped as if hit with an electric shock.
I looked down at my breast just in time to see the clamp settle on the tip of my nipple and close. "AAAAaaaaggggghhhhh", I wailed through my gag. I twisted my head back and forth, waiting for the pain to subside. And subside it did, actually pretty quickly; it went from actual pain to just a mere heavy throbbing. I closed my eyes rather then watch my master attach the second clamp. "Aaaarrrrrggghhhh", I howled once more. Both of my breasts throbbed as if they were there own separate entity.
master had put each of the clamps exactly on the tip its respective nipple, grasping only a small bit of the tender flesh. This was also of course the most painful way to apply them. Anywhere else on the breast would of course be less painful than the tender tip of my nipples. Taking a bigger bite with the clamp would spread the amount of area that the pressure was spread across and therefore reduce it. He knew all this and so did I and that is of course why he did not have me put them on myself.
While it was exciting for him to watch me inflicting the anguish upon myself, he knew that he couldn’t trust me to place them as expertly as he had.
When the pain receded enough for me to be able to open my eyes I looked back at the TV. The silver metal clamps were lying against my bruised breasts.
The worst was yet to come and I knew it. In his hand he dangled heavy fishing weights, 4oz. was clearly stamped on each of them, from about four inches of clear fishing line. They had little clips on the top, which were usually used to clip them to fishhooks, but not this time. He pressed the first little clip against the eyehole, thoughtfully provide in the center of each God blessed clamp. He made sure that both were secured to their respective clamp, giving the clamps a slight tug to make sure they were secure. This drew a slight gasp from my highly muffled mouth. Then he sort of just tossed them slightly up in the air and let them fall.
I watched on the monitor, almost as if it were in slow motion, those weights pop up out of his hands and then drop to the full length of their tethers. "Nnnnnooooooooo", I shouted through the gag. Followed quickly by, "Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh", as I shouted in distress. The weights pulled my aching nipples down to and then like elastic bands bounced them back upwards.
“Aaaaahhhhhhhh", I screamed as the twin weights bounced from one painful direction to another.
Finally they slowed to a dangling swaying and my breasts once again reverted to a painful throbbing. As the pain lessened I again opened my eyes.
Like a person outside of my body I felt my master turn me and walk me towards the waiting block and tackle arrangements. Each step brought a new twinge to my tortured tits. Finally I arrived beneath the pulleys and was guided ahead just a bit further. "You must lay down on the floor, so that I can hoist you upwards Lady Andrea. So be so good as to let me help you to the ground." My husband / master was as good as his word and helped me gently down into first a sitting position and then with his hands supporting my head, into a laying position.
He left me for a few minutes to rest from my trails. The weights were now lying against my stomach, letting me get used to the clamps throbbing pressure. My tormented gasping breaths began to come more easily.
was soon back, spreading my legs widely, while attaching a spreader bar to my ankle restraints. He used replacement chain links that could be screwed open and closed to attach the D rings on the black leather cuff to the eye rings on the three-foot wide cylindrical spreader bar.
When he was finished he attached thick metal clasps to other D rings on each of the padded ankle restraints. These clasps were attached to the block and tackle contraptions, which had multiple cords running through the mass of pulleys.
Wrapping both of the cords ends around his black leather gloved hand he began a hand over hand pulling of the twin cords. He had to make many short pulls, but soon he had my spread legs perpendicular to the ground.
Leaving me stretched like that way for a few moments, he said, "I bet you would love it if I didn’t lift you any higher than this wouldn’t you".
I murmured positive imprecations through the all to effective gag and nodded my head ‘yes’ to make sure he understood. "Hmmmm, yes I could", he continued. "I still have full access to all of your body parts, but….
I just wouldn’t want to disappoint you and let you miss the full effect of a well planned suspension." With that he started the hand over hand on the cords again. My butt came off the ground and my back was slowly dragged across the carpet as my body was hoisted higher into the air.
As my back straightened the weights fell backwards toward my face, making me moan in pain. Due to my slow upward progress the weights moved into a dangling position in a smooth enough fashion that it did not blind me with pain.
master had explained how the use of these nautical block and tackle arrangements could reduce the weight of the object, in this case me, to one quarter of its weight. It only required that a lot of rope or cord in this case be pulled through successive pulleys. This meant that he had to pull a lot of cord to raise me into the air, but by the same token he was now only working at pulling thirty pounds of dead weight (no pun intended).
Finally my head came free of the floor and soon only my hair was brushing it.
He tied the ropes off to the heavy dining room table and then moved to my back. My arms in the sleeve were leaning back away from my body.
This he quickly corrected by attaching the sleeve to the D ring of the waist belt. My firmly muscled legs throbbed to the pressure of supporting my entire body. My poor cunny, once again, felt like it was being pulled apart. The dangling weights and my tormented shoulder blades sent their own pained messages to my brain. Every part of my body had some sort of pain. Slowly I was able to accept each of the different types of pain until they all became manageable.
Looking backwards I could see that my husband had moved the camera to a new angle.
There I was hanging upside down in my TV set. My eyes were drawn to the shinny white patent leather of my sky-high heels. Now the choice of these heels over the other offerings in my closet became apparent.
The multiple straps made sure that my foot remained faithfully ensconced in the highly arched leather heels, with no worry that they might ‘pop’ off. He zoomed in on my face and I also saw that the harness gag was another thoughtful choice. It sexy black leather straps provide a perfect holder for the large yellow ball that my dark red lips surrounded.
Furthermore it did not hide the rest of my face and all of the work I had done on my make up.
The camera angle was readjusted and a close up shoot was set which only included my pour abused lower love lips. I knew that the camera had a 12x focus on it and it looked like he had me zoomed all of the way in.
In the picture I watched as his hands spread soothing oil into my curly brown hair. This made my vagina’s hair glisten in the light.
The camera picked it up like tree branches covered in ice when the sunlight hits them just right. The yellowish light made my hair gleam golden.
Into this picture came a thick red candle, with very little effort he pushed the tapered end of the candle directly into my sex, seating at least two or three inches of the hard wax inside of me. A match exploded into life on the screen and the candle was lit. He continued to keep this focus for the two or three minutes it took for the candle to build up some real hot wax. He gently flicked the candle with his finger, spilling the hot wax directly onto my puffy love lips. My body jerked in response, which caused my weighted nipple clamps to pull on my tits and send more agonizing pain signals to my exhausted brain.
finish off the bondage scenario, he placed an hourglass upon the floor in front of me. One hour of this was impossible was my immediate thought! When I looked more closely, I was happy to note that half of the sand had already run out. Even a half hour of this didn’t seem possible.
"One more chance my dear", my master said. "You can still pick door number one or brace yourself for another thirty minutes of uninterrupted pleasure."
I shook my head no. With that he lashed his braided quirt across my previously stripped buttocks. The many different explosions of pain are too hard to quantify. My butt contracted away from the leather lash, splattering more of the molten hot wax on to my glistening cunny which in turn jerked my body again, all of which caused the wildly swing weights to pull on my tortured nipple tips. "Ooooouuuuggggg", I screamed and then “AAARrrrhhhhh", I yelled into the ball blocking all sounds emanating from my mouth.
Each time my body even came close to relaxing, crack the lash would land on some other unprotected area. My body jerked again and again.
I had now, once again, gone beyond the pain and was watching with interest my movements on the big screen. Each jerk shook me from the toes of my shoes to the hair on my head and the jerks and twitches just didn’t seem to stop anymore. My mouth felt dry as ash and my throat as raw as sand paper, as I howled and moaned a continuous scream through the damning gag.
Almost as if I were another person, I watched as my master walked around me.
As he twisted my body sometimes to make sure the camera was getting a good shoot of my sleeve strained shoulder blades. I watched as he aimed his lash at my thighs, legs, buttocks, and even breasts.
weird feeling began to come over me. The pain from my nipples was sending these mixed signals to my invaded sex organ, which was rubbing itself against the hard wax candle. The hot wax was equally sending signals to my battered cunny, but now they weren’t all painful ones.
I slowly began to realize that what I was feeling was the birth of a tremendous gut rumbling orgasm. Everything all mixed together was bringing my pain-racked brain towards a point where it was inconceivable that I could go. Crack. Even the crack of the lash so close to the candle that it shook it, sent more of the pleasure / pain messages to my cunny.
Crack, burn, tug, and scream. That was my body leaping wildly about on the screen. "Aaaaarrrrggggghhhhh", I continuously moaned as the tidal wave built up inside of me. "Ohhhhh….. Ohhhhhhh… Ohhhhh", the moans came from my tortured and orgasm lashed body.
husband stopped what he was doing and watched me with an incredulous look on his face. Then he leaped into action. He grabbed the hot candle, blew out the flame and began pumping it quickly in and out of me like a dildo. Yes, yes, yes, YES, I thought to myself.
"RRRrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh", I screamed in ecstasy as the unbelievable orgasmic wave burst over me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of my wildly flailing body as the camera recorded my every move. Over and over the waves just swept through my body, until finally they subsided and my exhausted body just hung limply as I just didn’t have anything else to give. At that moment I looked to the hourglass and saw the last few grains fall into the bottom glass.
Disclaimer: have watched the video related in this story at least three dozen times, both with and without my husband. I generally would never do such a thing, but I keep watching it over and over to try to find out if that was truly me. Do to this though, I cannot say that everything
I have related is exactly as I remembered it? Because of the passage of time and my viewing the tape, some of my memories may have been altered to reflect more of what I have now seen versus what I felt at the time.
not everything in the story is entirely accurate. Such as the sands in the hour glass were not finished running through the glass, but my husband thought it had a better sound the way it is now written. Furthermore my husband has had me re-write, different segments of this story numerous times, until I have re-written this whole encounter about four times.
Again the bondage’s and the sex are all accurate, I have just added some details, especially colors and what things felt like.
What happened to me is also true. I had some sort of short circuit and went beyond the pain being inflicted upon me twice during this encounter.
My husband calls it an Epiphany. I don’t know what it was that happened or if what happened really showed me something deep within myself, but I do know that I don’t go about trying to recreate the effect.
While I look back on that day with I guess you might call them fond memories, it took me the better part of a week to recover from the battering I received.
Later, on during the evening of this encounter, as we lay in bed together resting, I let him talk me into watching the un-cut video for the first time.
He was so eager to see how it turned out that I couldn’t turn him down.
He told me as we watched that he had arranged with his mother to take the kids earlier during the week and while it was a surprise to me, it wasn’t to him. The bondage encounter planning and the arranging of all of the necessary items took every free minute of that week for him to put together. We both laughed when he told me that his mother thought that we were going out to dinner and a movie!
this video will never surface. I have written this description, under duress, only because I believe in keeping my word.
One other note of interest. My husband / master has many times tried to have me take out the parts that show that he really is a nice guy.
I have refused each time. Yes, in our bondage fantasies I am the submissive, but in our normal lives I am his partner!
Whatever You Want · Part 4 (4/4)
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