Mistress · Bound · Part 2 (2/2)
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ast. She then holds something in front of your eyes, which grow wide as you cry.
A toothbrush! Without word or ceremony, she goes back and attacks your tender soles with it. The respite you had from the tickling was only temporary, and you react even more strongly than before, as you are driven almost immediately beyond your capacity to tolerate the tickling. You try everything you can – you beg, you demand, you threaten, you pull and shake. She ignores it all and continues, now turning her attention to your sides, digging her fingers deep into your armpits and sides. She goes back and forth, randomly, the uncertainty of it adding to your anguish.
Time stops. There is only the tickling. The uncertainty. The mercilessness. The cruelty. For her. Not, most certainly, for you. You teeter on the edge of collapse.
She stops. Absurd as it is, you thank her profusely through the gag for stopping and giving you some rest. She says nothing, but walks off, turns out the light and closes the door again.
You begin to panic. You almost hyperventilate but manage to calm your breathing. What else could she do? What have you gotten yourself into? Can you handle what’s next? Can you survive what’s next? The only, tiny, hope you have is that your Mistress has no desire to permanently harm you, that she wishes to continue keeping you as her slave, that she doesn’t want to “break her toy.” It is a tenuous line, but you cling to it as a drowning man. The silence and coldness of the room drags on, mocking you even as you attempt to break free of the restraints holding you to the bench, even as you know your pulling is futile.
After an age, the light comes back on and your Mistress reenters the room. She is carrying another glass of wine and a book. Without a word, she settles in the easy chair, crosses her legs, sets down the wine and opens the book.
You are desperate now, and try to appeal to her through the gag, more and more frantically. She looks up.
“Let me read,” she says flatly. “Or it will go badly for you.” She returns to her book, grabbing the wine and taking a sip.
You freeze, terrified by her words. Badly? How much more badly could it go? You are afraid you are about to find out. The anticipation is made worse by your restraints, forcing you to remain still and simply watch your Mistress sit and read, ignoring you.
You take your Mistress’ words to heart and stay quiet. She is obviously letting you stew, making up torments in your head and becoming terrified by them. You imagine all the games you and your Mistress have played taken far beyond your limits and close your eyes. You wish you could take back your decision, but that is impossible. One small head shake! No! You didn’t mean it! It’s too much! She has to let you go! You shift slightly in your bonds to become more comfortable if you can, and the leather straps creak loudly. Your Mistress looks up sharply at you, and you freeze, willing a silent, desperate apology to her with your eyes.
She sets her book down and takes a sip of the wine, leaving a bit in the glass and walks behind you. You can hear her pick up some more toys from the wall and shelves, and she comes back behind your splayed legs. You hear the small pop of the tube being flicked open, and shortly feel something cool behind you, between your legs. She is rubbing thick, cool lubricant on the entrance of your exposed behind. You yelp a bit, and she smears it around liberally, pushing her fingers slowly into you.
You moan. You and your Mistress have played anal games many times, and it is something you enjoy – the violation. But now you are worried. You can feel something hard and cold push against you, and you relax, knowing it is inevitable and hoping to reduce the discomfort. The plug she pushes in feels larger than ones you have used before, and you cry into the gag as it pops home and your body closes around the tapered base. You can feel your Mistress fiddling with it, and she comes around in front of you, setting down a small table and placing something on top of it.
It is a box with knobs and electrical wires leading from it. Your e-stim unit! The last time you used it with her it was almost too much, and you didn’t even push very far. She goes under the table and you can feel a sharp pinch on your balls, then another. She has connected your balls to the unit. You can see the switches and knobs – power, intensity, program. The one that holds your eyes is “intensity.” The last time you used it, you got up to a 4, out of ten, and could barely manage. Your Mistress reaches over and turns that knob to 7 and sits back down, picking up her glass again. She sips the rest of her wine slowly, and you start to shake violently. There is no way you could tolerate 7! How can she do this? It will kill you! But you know that the current, though painful, is not harmful, though that is scant comfort now. She finishes her wine and picks up the remote.
Her hand hovers over the power switch, then quickly flicks it. Jesus! The pain in your balls and ass is unbearable! You buck and shake uncontrollably. You are lost in agony, unable to get any relief at all. You have no idea how long it will continue, but each second is an eternity, and an eternity too long.
Your world is reduced to nothing but the shocks from the plug. You yell and plead into the gag, but through the haze you cannot even tell what your Mistress’ reaction to your distress is, and you do not care. It has to stop! Please make it stop! Anything! Anything else!
And it stops. Heaving breaths through your nose. Slumping in your restraints. Heart racing. Vision finally clearing, and you can see your Mistress again, grinning at you, still holding the remote, toying with it, and she hits the button again.
No! Your yelling turns to pathetic whimpers and howls. You jerk as hard as you can, hoping in your pain-addled mind to knock the bench over, forcing your Mistress to stop. But it is too heavy, and it stays upright.
“Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!” you cry. You would be unintelligible even without the gag at this point. Finally, as you approach the precipice, the current stops again.
“That was… interesting,” your Mistress says. She takes the clips off and disconnects the cord from the plug but leaves it in you. Your breath comes fast, and you are unable to even make any further sound as your heart gradually slows. Through it all, your erection presses painfully against the spikes, and your mind returns its attention to it as you will all of it to stop, knowing that it won’t.
She rises from her chair. She goes behind you, and you are terrified of what comes next. You have no idea how long it has been – or how much longer it will continue. You have already been pushed far past your limits several times and you know there is much more to come.
Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel your Mistress’ hands on the cage enclosing you. There is a small click, and your cock pops free of the terrible device. You let out a moan of relief.
“You will enjoy this part. It pleases me to tell you that as far as your pleasure goes now, so far will go your pain after.”
There is a snap, and then a squishing sound, as something squeezing from a bottle. Then, a coldness on your now-free cock. The lubricant is initially cold as your Mistress takes you in her hand and begins to ever so slowly stroke. It quickly warms, as do you. You realize that she must be sitting under the bench, fondling you.
She knows how to play you, as a fine musician, and you respond, reveling in the sensation. You now moan with need, desperate to come. The squeezing and stroking are amplified by your bondage, focusing all your sexual energy into one small place. She speeds up, and just as you get close, she relents, leaving you hunger for more. She does this again, and again, and again. Each time you get closer, but your Mistress knows from long experience exactly how far you can go, and how long she can keep you on the edge. Finally, she stops entirely, and wipes the lubricant off with a cloth, leaving your erection throbbing and your need unsatisfied.
You feel her slide an elastic ring around the base of your cock. It is tight, almost painfully so, and guarantees your erection will remain. You then feel her wrap a piece of cord around the base of your balls, tying it tightly. There is a tug, and you are pulled straight back, tighter and tighter. Part of you oddly wonders how she will fasten it between the legs of the bench, for you know she loves symmetry. You are pulled further and further, and whine miserably. Finally, it stops, and your balls are pulled terribly tight. Your restraints make it impossible for you to relieve the pressure.
Your Mistress walks in front of you, and she takes something from a table. She walks back in front of you, not looking at you. You see that she has a heavy leather blindfold and a long chain with snap hooks on either end in her hands. She clips the chain to a sturdy ring on the top of your gag harness and leaves it hanging for a moment as she retrieves a small step ladder. She picks up the chain and pulls it to the ceiling, yanking your head up and increasing your immobility as she snaps the other end to a hook in the ceiling.
Your head is now held up and you cannot move your head as she puts the blindfold over your eyes, its heaviness and texture as oppressive as the loss of one of your remaining senses. You have now lost even the control of anticipating what comes next by sight, and your Mistress leaves you for a few minutes to stew in your increased helplessness. You hear a pop, and you know that your Mistress has opened another bottle of wine and is taking her time, enjoying herself at your expense. You can do nothing but wait.
The darkness and the restraint become more and more difficult to bear, and you try again to beg your Mistress to release you, whining through the gag. There is no response. Your mind comes up with ever more awful scenarios in anticipation. Then you hear –
Swish!
– the sound of a crop whistling through the air right in front of your face. You know that sound well, as your Mistress has used it on you many times before, always to your mutual pleasure. But it does sting, and the thought of it being wielded against your helpless body with no limits sets your terror alight again. You attempt to beg through the gag, even as you know that it will have no effect, and in fact may increase your Mistress’ desire to whip you and whip you harder.
But after the initial threatening swish, there is nothing. You move your head as well as you can, vainly looking for any clue for what comes next, even as you know that it will be in vain. You begin to convince yourself that perhaps your Mistress has had enough, that she has had her fun and is about to release you. You make a few quiet, questioning noise when –
Thwack!
– a line of fire erupts across the middle of your ass. You scream, involuntarily, trying with all your might to escape the terrible sting of the crop. There is a moment of respite as your body registers the assault when –
Thwack!
– another sting, right next to the first. It is harder than your Mistress has ever whipped you before, and each sting feels like it will split you open. Two more in quick succession and you are bucking at each one, causing the bench to rattle on the floor. Your screams are deafening, even through the gag.
Then you feel the tip of the crop slide gently, almost lovingly, across the sole of your left foot. No! They are still sensitive from the tickling, and you could not take that! Then, again nothing for a long moment, followed by another –
Thwack!
– again on your ass, surprising you. You had tensed your legs in anticipation of the whip striking your soles, and so were completely unprepared for it’s actual target. One more on your ass and then –
Thwack! Thwack!
– one smack on the sole of each foot.
She continues, with random duration and random targets, ensuring you cannot even prepare for the strikes. Your world narrows to the painful, unbearable moment. There is no past, there is no future. You have no idea how long you have been here, nor how long you will remain. There is only the pain your Mistress is inflicting upon you. Paradoxically, your body reacts not just with pain, but with excitement, and part of you rises despite your predicament.
Again and again, on cheeks, thighs, feet, she continues. Tears are flowing from under your blindfold, and you struggle to breathe around the cruel gag, continually begging your Mistress to stop. Finally, there is an interval that seems to your addled senses to be longer than before. The blindfold is removed from your eyes, and your Mistress looks into them. You plead silently, tears still streaming, hoping to finally convince her to stop and release you.
She considers you for a moment, then reaches out a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek.
“Beautiful,” is all she says, and walks away to replace her tools, leaving you for a moment to contemplate the next torment. What else could there be? You wait, unwilling to even think of the possibilities. She leaves the room again, not turning the lights off this time. How long will she leave you now? All night? Another day? And what could you do?
Finally, your Mistress returns, and releases the snap hook holding your head up. She follows by slowly releasing the straps holding you to the bench, brushing her fingers over your body. Next the cuffs holding your feet are released, and the clip holding your head down to the bench and the cord from around your balls. For the first time in who knows how long (she knows) you are not in any way attached to the bench. Your Mistress gently guides your body over the edge so you can stand, helping hold you up as you stretch the parts of your body that are now free.
She then unlocks and removes the cuffs around your hands, and the stiff collar around your neck. You are now clad in nothing but the harness gag and standing takes great effort. She undoes the tight buckles and removes the final restraint holding your body. You work your jaw.
“How…” you begin, but your Mistress’ finger lays over your lips, silencing you.
“Come,” she says, and leads you from the room, helping you stand. You step gingerly, still smarting from the whipping, but are barely able to stay with her. She guides you up the stairs. Slowly, slowly into the main residence, as your footing becomes surer by tiny increments. Then down a hall you have never travelled before. You have spent many hours – days, even – in this house, but your Mistress is always quite strict about areas that are off-limits, and you have too much respect for and fear of her to disobey.
Down the hall to its end, and she opens a door. Inside is a large, luxurious bathroom, all marble and elaborate tile, with light provided by innumerable candles. A large tub, big enough for several people, occupies the middle of the room, and it is full of steaming water. The scent of lilacs and lavender fills the air. Your gait is steadier now, as your Mistress guides you to the tub and gestures for you to enter. You open your mouth to talk, ask a question, but the merest headshake from her is enough to stifle it.
You timidly step into the bath. The water is hot, just at the edge of painful, but you can already feel it easing the fatigue in your muscles as you lower yourself in. Then, your Mistress stands in front of you and does something that amazes you more than anything that has happened so far.
She sits in a chair and languorously undoes her boots and pulls them off, revealing the black hose underneath. Then she stands, unzips her catsuit and begins to peel it off.
You have never seen your Mistress naked before. The clothes she wears when training and disciplining you leave little to the imagination, but there is a difference when she is clothed, however lascivious that clothing may be. Now she has pulled the catsuit all the way down her legs, showing her perfect skin, breasts still proud and high in the absence of any support. Finally, she pulls down the hose and unceremoniously tosses it all into the chair.
She stands before you, legs apart, hands on hips, still proud and dominant despite her nakedness. With a mischievous smile, she twirls around once on one foot. looking at you again. Your mouth is slack, and your eyes are wide. Shocked, you stammer as she climbs into the tub with you.
She gently nestles in your side, running her arms up and down your body. Unthinkingly, you reciprocate, unable to believe that you are taking such liberties with your Mistress. She slows, as do you, and she lays her head on your chest.
“Well, what did you think?” she asks as her hand goes under the water and grabs your cock, squeezing and eliciting a moan from you. “Would you like to try it again?”
“Maybe next year,” you reply, pulling her close for a kiss. You kiss her, and then let go, looking her in the eye. “Happy Birthday,” you say, letting the hot, scented water ease you pain and fatigue.
Mistress · Bound · Part 2 (2/2)
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