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Imagine... bondage
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Imagine....
You kneel before me, naked save for a collar. I stand over you
in my usual domination attire, black jeans, cowboy boots,
black silk shirt, and leather vest. On my belt is a pair of
handcuffs, and hanging from my belt are a pair of whips.
I note that you are kneeling with your legs too close together
for my tastes. I tell you, "Spread your legs, slut!"
You hasten to comply, spreading your legs wider, as ordered,
leaving your sex open and vulnerable at the crux of your
thighs. I walk around you, admiring you from every angle. I
pause in back of you and order you to place your hands
behind your back. You feel the cold metal of the cuffs clicking
down upon your wrists. I continue my inspection,
I place my hand in your hair, pulling your head back as I lean
down to kiss your mouth deeply. "Were you trying to hide that
pussy from me, slave?"
"No, Master!" you say, a hint of fear in your voice at the threat
entering mine.
"I think you were, slave. I think you have the delusion that it is
your pussy. It is mine, as you belong to me, all of your body
belongs to me, for me to use as I see fit."
"Yes, Sir!" you offer, hoping to please me with your
compliance, but you can tell by the glint in my eyes that I am
looking forward to disciplining you harshly for your
transgression.
One hand still in your hair, the other under your arm for
balance, I pull you to your feet. I lead you over to a chair,
where I sit, and pull you over my lap, face down.
"You have a very beautiful body, my slave." The soft purr in
my voice is not that of a happy Mastercat. It is the purr a whip
makes, slicing through the air before it strikes. You have come
to know this sound well, as it tells you often of my appreciation
for your gift of your body to me, even as I am about to give
that body a taste of pain. Large, warm hands caress your bare
buttocks, displayed before me. I trail my fingertips down the
backs of your thighs, to the knees, sending a shiver down your
spine, and straight into your rapidly dampening cunt.
"Having a beautiful body does not excuse you from discipline,
though, my little slut." You feel the shiver again. One hand has
grasped the center of the handcuffs, pulling them up, away
from your bottom, holding them high on your back. The other
caresses your backside again. You feel my hand leave your
bottom, and are unable to see me reaching into the cuff of my
boot.
You feel the leather, though, as it touches your backside. One
of my slappers. You have come to know this toy well on many
parts of your body. This tool has brought you much pain, and
much pleasure, as well.
The leather of the slapper is drawn across your backside, and
down your thighs. I turn it edgewise and bring it back up
between your legs, making you part them for me. You feel the
rounded edge of leather rub between the lips to your sex. The
tool is moistened by your excitement, when I pull it out from
between your legs.
"You will learn to obey me, slave, in all things, at all times. Do
you understand me?"
"Yes, Master!" your voice goes shrill as the first touch of the
slapper strikes as you finish your short sentence.
You strive to keep still, as you know I will become more angry
if you struggle too much. I continue to strike your bottom with
the leather at a slow, measured pace, allowing you to feel
each stroke as it lands, recover from it, and then anticipate the
next stroke.
The slapper lands, again and again. I start off low on your left
cheek and work up, then back down, concentrating the blows
on your right. Each stroke is very close to where it had landed
before, covering your entire bottom with the kisses of my love.
You shiver in anticipation as the slapper pauses. The slapper
again nuzzles between your thighs, parting the lips of your
sex. You feel the hard, smooth, rounded edge slipping
between your nether lips. I run it up and down, sliding it like a
violin's bow, playing your arousal like an instrument.
"Spread your legs, slut!" You spread your legs as far as you
can, there, over my lap. The slapper rises from your cunt. The
tip of the slapper teases down the insides of your thighs. You
feel the wetness it has gathered from your excitement
smearing over your own flesh.
I begin a rapid wrist flicking motion with the slapper, causing it
to strike lightly, but rapidly. I move this rapid tapping slowly up
and down the insides of your thighs. You cry out from the pain
upon your sensitive skin. Though it is lighter than that applied
to your bottom, your sensitive inner thighs burn with the taste
of leather.
"You are a hot little cunt, aren't you, my slave?" I croon the
words softly, as I pause in my torment.
"Yes, Master! I am your hot little slut!"
You feel the slapper laid down on top of your bottom, resting
there, leaving my hand free.
"Slave, you must remain in position, and not stir enough to
drop this tool of mine on the floor, no matter what I do to you.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master!" You wonder what new torment is coming your
way.
You feel my fingers lightly upon the insides of your thighs,
stroking ever so lightly up and down your sore flesh. The touch
of such gentleness after the fierce burn of the leather is
unnerving. You begin to shiver and squirm, then remember
your task is to remain still. The torture of having to remain in
place while I tease your flesh is excruciating, but there is
worse to come.
My fingers begin lightly stroking on the lips of your cunt. You
begin to arch your back, seeking to drive the fingers into you,
when you feel the slapper begin to shift. You freeze, praying it
does not slide off of your back. My fingers continue to slowly
tease your wet sex. I know you desire me to plunge them
deep inside and bring you release. I know how much torment I
am causing you, making you stay still when you feel as if you
must move.
Soft, urgent moans escape your lips, along with gasps of
pleasure when my fingers brush ever so lightly over your erect
clit.
"Please, Master....Please!!!" You beg, not sure exactly what
you are begging for. This torment is driving you wild, making
you too aroused to care whether I give you pain or make you
come. Either would be a relief from this teasing.
Two of my fingers spread your sex lips wide. "Not yet, my slut,
don't move, yet!" You feel my finger flick down directly upon
your clit. The pleasure floods your body as you teeter on the
edge of orgasm, awaiting my command to come.
Again, the finger strikes. Tears come to your eyes at the
struggle to not come, when it would feel so good to be able to
do so. You gasp, speechless, unable to even beg for
permission.
My finger now rests at the opening of the tunnel that yearns so
much to be filled. You forget everything in your need, you arch
your back, impaling yourself on my finger, even as the slapper
falls to the floor.
You feel it sliding off of your back, even as the pleasure of my
entry fills you. The delight of the penetration combines with the
knowledge that you just disobeyed me. Fear, sadness, and
dread fill your heart.
"You have displeased me, slut!"
My hand pulls away from your cunt, leaving your pussy empty
and wanting, even as fear of my wrath fills your heart.
I pull your body up from my lap, and guide you to a kneeling
position. You kneel, face downcast at the knowledge of the
disgrace you are guilty of. I stand and walk over to one of my
shelves to gather items for your punishment. You dare not
look at what is coming.
I return, and take your black hair in my hand. You crawl along
as I pull, to a place underneath one of the ceiling hooks.
"You know that you disobeyed an order, slave?"
"Yes, Master."
"You know that you deserve punishment, slave?"
"Yes, Master," you sob.
"Then beg for it, slave, beg for the punishment to atone for the
transgression!"
Choking back your tears, you begin. "Please punish me,
Master, for disobeying your orders not to move!"
"I shall, my slave, I shall. Your beautiful body must pay the
price of your disobedience."
I begin by slipping a blindfold over your eyes. Being cut off
from seeing what happens next increases your dread of my
pain. You begin to tremble, knowing that it will be very hard
upon you.
I tie a rope around your waist, with the knot in back, and bring
the rope down between your legs. Instead of bringing it up
immediately, you feel me moving the rope around, then you
realize what I have done. I have place a knot in the rope,
exactly where the rope will pass over your clit, when I pull up
on it. You feel the rope grow snug between your legs, pulling
into the space between your legs, parting the lips, and the
knot on the rope over your clit. The rope is pulled through the
hook in the ceiling, and you expect me to tie it there. Instead,
you feel the tension as I attach a weight to the rope, holding it
taught, but allowing the rope to move, when you move. You
move your hips slightly, and feel the swinging of the weight
cause the knot to rub against your clit!
I tie a second rope to the cuffs behind your back, and pull up
on that rope, gently, raising your arms behind your back, into a
bent position. You can maintain it, but not very comfortably. I
place something in your mouth, and it takes a moment to tell
what it is. From the feel, you guess, correctly, that I have
taken a pair of your panties and placed them in your mouth. I
take the rope from your cuffs and pass it between your teeth,
over the panties, holding them in your mouth, and tie the rope
off to your cuffs, holding your back arched, arms still cuffed,
but pulled high up on your back.
You wonder if this position is your punishment, as you hear
me move away. When my steps return to you, you realize it
was barely the beginning.
My fingers upon your breasts feel good, and you feel your
nipples harden under my touch. A moan of desire escapes
your lips as you begin to involuntarily move your hips, causing
the rope's knot to rub your clit.
You feel my fingers leave your nipples and next feel the
rubber padded jaws of my favorite nipple clamps. I slowly
ease the first one closed, as your moans of pleasure are
turned to ones of pain. The second one closes just as slowly
upon your other nipple.
You whimper into your panty-gag, feeling the burning desire
between your legs stimulated by the rubbing of the knot, and
the pain in your nipples.
I let you rest a moment, in your torment, becoming resigned to
it, before adding yet another torture to your punishment.
I put on a latex glove and open a small jar. You smell what it is
before you feel me smear it liberally upon your inner thighs.
Tiger Balm. Even before this ungent begins to heat up your
flesh, you begin to squirm, knowing the sensitive skin will feel
the fire of this cream for a long time.
You hear me walk away from you, now, and hear the creak of
the chair as I sit. You can see me in your mind's eye, watching
your torment, enjoying the pain.
Your position is strenuous, but not exhausting, not by itself.
The need in your cunt grows, rather than diminishes, due to
the discomfort. You move your hips, slowly, feeling the rope
rub up and down over your clit, stirring the fire there, even as
your inner thighs begin to feel the flames of the Tiger Balm.
Your nipples feel the motion, too, as the chain connecting the
clamps swings with your motion, tugging lightly at the nipples,
slightly twisting them.
You can not see, you can not speak, you can move very little,
and that movement causes your pain and desire to increase.
Perspiration begins to glisten upon your body, and the
moisture of it causes the balm on your inner thighs to warm up
even more.
How long must this go on? How long will I sit and watch your
pain, enjoying your suffering? Each moment is an eternity,
caught between the heaven and hell of pain and pleasure.
Tears begin to form under the blindfold.
You hear me rise, and hope this means the end of your
torment. It is not to be, though, my slave.
You feel a stirring upon the rope between your legs, an extra
ounce or two of pressure there, and then you feel and hear it
at the same time.
The hum of a vibrator, turned to high power. It causes the
rope between your legs, already under tension like a guitar
string, to vibrate. The knot over your clit vibrates. You try to
forget about the pain of your position, the clamps upon your
nipples, the burning between your thighs, concentrating upon
this pleasure.
You struggle to form words around your panty-gag. You long
to be able to beg to come for my pleasure. You wish with all
your ability to be taken by me, given the release you crave.
The pleasure and the pain form a synergistic wave, throwing
you higher and higher. You buck your hips hard against the
rope between your legs, moving the now vibrating knot faster
against your clit. The chain between your nipple clamps
swings in time to your thrusts, cruelly pulling at your nipples.
How many eons pass with you caught in this eternity of
torture? It can't possibly be seconds, or even minutes. The
clock lies. You have been here for so long all of your previous
life is forgotten.
You are screaming behind the gag, screaming for the release
of your passion. Screaming from the pain of being held back
from your orgasm by the lack of my permission. Screaming,
begging, pleading, all the thoughts and feelings and desires
burning in your head at once. Tears fill the blindfold as you
weep.
"COME, SLAVE!"
The order you have longed to hear for all of eternity echoes in
the room, even as your cries of pain and desire turn to
screeches of orgasmic pleasure. You have already screamed
your throat raw, now it goes beyond that, your screams going
silent from the force of the pleasure wave, finally allowed to
crest over you, washing you away, washing all the pain away,
washing all of your past and present away. The wave crashes
over you and leaves you only in an ever present NOW that
has no beginning, no middle, no end.
Your body collapses, before you can even think to stop it from
doing so. You wonder at the release of the tension in the rope
between your legs, the sudden freeing of your mouth as you
gasp for air. Your gag is gone, the rope between your legs is
relaxed.
You become aware of your master's arms around you,
holding you, releasing some of your bindings. Removing the
clamps, the blood rushing back into the clamps filling your
nipples with a fire that brings you to tears again.
You sob, softly, the cleansing fire of orgasm fading into the
embers of after glow. Your hands are released and I rub the
soreness in your shoulders, as I ease you down upon your
back.
You feel my lips upon yours and you move to kiss me in
return, when a trickle of cool water passes from my lips into
yours. You drink of this greedily, not even realizing how thirsty
you had become. Your thirst quenched, the water gone, we
kiss, deeply, my arms around you, holding you to me, my
body's warmth comforting in the cool air as the perspiration
dries upon your body.
"Rest, my slave." You hear, and obey, my command, content
in my arms.
-Mastercat They declaim against the passions without
[email protected] bothering to see that it is from their flame
philosophy lights its torch. - Sade
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