I snapped them all, one at a time, saying, “Thank you, sir” after each one so that it became a mantra.
“Good girl. Make that body dance. Now move your feet and fuck that cunt. Penetrate those sweet lips for me with each stroke.”
“Yes, sir.” I did as he asked and the sensation was incredible. I loved having my hands available to do other things, and he must have known what I was thinking, because he told me to pick up a spatula.
“Smack those tits with it. Make them throb.”
Since my breasts were bound, their sensitivity had increased, and I felt each swat to them even more deeply than usual.
“Again, and I want you to count twenty swats, switching back and forth between breasts.”
I groaned, but swatted the tender tips of my breasts, one side then the other. Along the way he encouraged me, telling me, “You’ll come through the pain. It’s the mix that is so intoxicating. There is no ultimate pleasure without pain and control.”
Only a few more swats to go.
Thwack! “Eighteen.”
Thwack! “Nineteen.”
“Good girl. Be a greedy pain-whore. One more.”
Thwack! “Twenty.”
Once I stopped I could tell how much my nipples ached, but I wouldn’t be able to rest for long.
“Fuck that whore hole good and hard with that cock.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it!”
“Yes, sir.
“Now get those forks and dig them into those sore little buds. Dig them in and twist.”
I did and the world started to spin. All the things he’d had me do to myself came together and the pressure was too much. I wanted desperately to come.
“Sir, may I please come?”
“Good girl for asking, yes you may.”
I dug the forks in again, giving them that delicious twist that I knew would send me over the edge and then I was floating, my body pitching in tiny tremors of delight as my release washed over me and set me free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
One of the first posts that I’d read online by MC was regarding some training he’d done with a sub that involved candle wax. It fascinated me, so from the beginning of my training I anticipated doing a session using the hot wax… and from MC’s latest instructions it sounded like the time had finally arrived. I couldn’t wait to experience it.
Sophie,
Tonight you will need to task hard. You need to enter your own little world while you’re bound and you fuck yourself. A world filled with cock-sucking, mouth-fucking, and cum-bathing your neck, breasts, belly, and mound. Feel that big blue vein part your lips while you rake it. Feel the leak of pre-cum coat your lips. Feel the strain in your throat while you anticipate a jet stream of cum washing the back of your throat. Take in the scent, the hardness, and the taste. Take it all in and I think it will make your toes curl.
Here’s what you will need to bring to the dance:
1.) plunger/dildo combo
2.) candle and lighter
3.) wooden chair brought up against the bed on right-hand side
4.) one skipping rope attached to left side of headboard
5.) other skipping rope
6.) wooden blocks
7.) feet to be taped to plunger for a good fucking
8.) two forks
9.) duct tape
When we meet tonight you will be stripped down and those feet will be secured with the plunger in place. You will be a compliant whore tonight.
Please me with your preparation sub.
MC
As I prepared for our play that evening, I tried to guess how badly it would hurt. Would I be able to endure it? I hoped so. Disappointing him was the last thing I wanted. MC requested that I have my feet and plunger secured with tape in advance, and he sounded very concerned about my preparation so I needed to follow those instructions perfectly. I’d done it before and while it grew easier the more times I did it, sometimes it was difficult to get the height of the plunger just right. I wrapped the tape around, tested it, and, satisfied it would work, lay back on the bed to wait.
I’d set the thermostat a few degrees lower than usual because soon I’d be sweating. My skin felt good against the cool, crisp sheets. It wouldn’t be long before the fresh-laundry scent I inhaled would be replaced by the smell of sex. I could hardly wait to hear his voice.
My cell phone rang at exactly the agreed-upon time. My Master was nothing if not precise. After I answered his call on my wireless headset with the mic, he opened the session by telling me to spank my ass with a wooden spoon. He used the tight, gruff voice I’d come to expect at the beginning of our sessions. I swatted my bottom cheeks one after the other.
“Louder. I want to hear that spoon slapping your flesh.”
“Yes, sir.” I applied more pressure. He probably could tell from my groans that the spoon hurt more than the plastic spatulas he usually had me use.
“Good,” he said after a dozen good smacks to each side. “Now lay your set of blocks out on your bed in a row, making a rectangle of them, and lie down next to them.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now I want you to insert your cock, the one attached to the plunger, and I want you to tape the bottom of the plunger to your ankles with your duct tape.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, lying on your back, I want you to get those forks and dig them into your nipples.”
“Yes, sir.” This was one of my favorite parts. The forks were my favorite toy, and the perfect symbol for that intoxicating intersection between pleasure and pain.
“Good girl. Now dig them in and twist.” The gravelly tenor of his voice heightened my senses and took me to a magical place that only included the two of us. His kingdom, where pleasure and pain melded together, and it was impossible to tease out which was which.
I forced the silver tines of the forks into my tender flesh and cried out. “Ahhh!” My cry embraced and repelled the sharp objects invading my body.
“That’s it. Dig them in hard. Twist!”
I did, and my complaints melted into mewls of lust.
“That’s a girl. Good job. Now roll over onto the blocks. Lie on them with your breasts and your stomach on top of them. Let the indentions of the blocks drive into that sensitive flesh of yours.”
Setting the forks aside, I flipped onto my belly, the pattern of the alphabet blocks marking my skin. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it was quite awkward and uncomfortable. The upside was that it was hot having him direct me into such a vulnerable position, and I liked him controlling me like that.
“Fuck yourself. Take that cock deep inside that greedy pussy of yours.”
“Yes, sir.” I wiggled my ankles up and down, driving the dildo into my cunt, the sharp edges of the blocks poking me with each stroke.
“Good girl. Now inch yourself up over the blocks so that only your stomach, and possibly your mound, is touching them. I want your breasts above them and free for you to play with them while you fuck yourself.”
Answering in the affirmative, I hoisted my left side, then my right, up on the bed, traversing over the blocks. My skin scraped the evil little divots and crevices of the blocks, and I muttered intelligible curses to whoever had made the retched things.
“What’s that?” he asked, amusement ringing in his voice.
“Nothing, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“All right. Now I want you to pinch those nipples, and keep fucking that hole. Do you hear me?” he snarled.
“Yes, sir.” A rush of blood charged to my vulva. Often the meaner he came across, the more aroused I became.
“Pull on your nipples, twist them, but pull them hard. Pull them away from your body, up to your chin as far as they can go. I want you to tug on them until you scream.”