My Visit
I arrive at your house at the time you had indicated, not
a moment sooner or later. After parking my car, I walk to
your door and ring the bell as instructed. When you let me
in, I am wearing a long leather trench coat, beneath which
you can just see the high heels of my black boots. I offer
myself in submission to you, and you remove my coat. I emerge
wearing a black leather teddy, and my boots, now fully visible,
extend over my knees and up to my thighs. A pair of black fishnet
hose peek just above the tops of my boots. My outfit is completed
with a pair of long black leather gloves, which grace my
arms to my elbows.
You take a pair of handcuffs and fasten my hands in front
of me, limiting my movement. With that completed, I am ordered
to pour and serve drinks for the two of us. I ask for and receive
your permission to have a cigarette with my drink. You watch
with silent amusement, but offer no assistance, as I struggle
to open the pack, remove the cigarette and light it while
so restrained.
When we have finished our drinks, and I my cigarette, you
order me to pour another for yourself only. You present
a collar, leash and ball gag, and hold them before me so that
I may kiss them lovingly before you put them on me. With your
drink in one hand and my leash in the other, you lead me down
the stairs into your basement.
Once there, you remove my handcuffs and pull my gloved hands
together behind my back, securing them rather loosely
with a silk scarf. I am somewhat disappointed with this,
as the bond is much too loose and comfortable, and I feel
that I could free myself without too much difficulty. Thats
when you show me the armbinder. I have always wanted wear
one of those, and I can feel myself immediately getting
wet as I gaze upon the polished black leather, buckles and
laces on that beautiful and marvelously sadistic device.
The pressure and pain increase in tiny increments as you
pass the binder straps around my shoulders, then ever-so-slowly
and oh-so-tightly lace the binder up the length of my arms
and past my elbows. A series of buckles on top of the laces
ensures my complete helplessness. When you finish my arms
are completely immobile and I am whimpering with pain and
pleasure behind my ball gag. After stepping back to admire
your handiwork and the look of pitiful desperation on my
face, you remove my leash and order me to lie on my back on
the floor.
The discomfort and pressure I feel between my shoulders
only increase as I am forced to lie directly on my tightly
bound arms. You fasten a spreader bar between my booted
ankles, forcing my legs to open uncomfortably wide. A shorter
bar extends between my leather-covered knees, rendering
them similarly immobile. A rope is threaded through hooks
on each end of the bar between my ankles and passed through
a pulley in the ceiling. By pulling on the rope, you lift
me off the floor and suspend me upside down by my ankles in
the middle of the room.
After what seems like an eternity you approach my suspended
body, slowly and gently caressing and kissing me from the
tips of my high heels, down the length of my boots and stopping
briefly (much too briefly!) at my moist and tender spot.
You then withdraw, returning with a cat of nine tails in
your hand. The first lash with the cat immediately forces
me from my pre-orgasmic reverie, as the sharp pain flashes
through my body. The blows begin slowly, but increase in
rate and intensity until I am no longer able to tell where
each lash landed, or from which direction it came. I do my
best to twist and turn in my bonds and suspension, but Im
unable to avoid the pain that seems to attack me from every
direction at once. The whipping continues until every
part of my body is warm and glowing red.
When you finally let me down from my suspension I am drained
from tensing with each bite of the lash and my futile efforts
to avoid them. You remove the spreader bars from my ankles
and knees, only to replace them with thick, heavy leather
straps at my ankles, knees and thighs. Now, instead of being
forced unnaturally apart, my legs are bound tightly as
one. Your strong arms help me to my feet. I have difficulty
keeping my balance this way, because my high-heeled boots
are tied tightly together and I have not yet recovered from
the pain of the whip or the dizziness of my suspension.
You lower my teddy to reveal my breasts, small but round
and firm. You produce a pair of nipple clamps and apply them;
the serrated teeth of the clips sink quickly, eagerly and
deeply into my tender flesh, causing tiny droplets of blood
to appear. A chain joins the clips with a small weight in
the center. When the weight is released the clips increase
their pull on my nipples, causing the teeth to sink in more
deeply and increase their sting.
The gag is removed and I am gasping for breath from the pain.
You kiss me tenderly and give me some of your drink. Then
you place a cigarette between my lips and light it, forcing
me to smoke in bondage. Without a word you turn and leave
the room, leaving me alone to contemplate my pain and agony.
Presently you return, carrying a small camera. Taking
your time (and obviously enjoying yourself), you photograph
me from every conceivable angle, making sure you capture
the expression of pain and suffering on my tear-stained
face. You remove the cigarette from my lips, allowing me
just enough time to exhale the last bit of smoke from my mouth
before the gag is replaced. A few more photographs ensure
that every bond, every strained muscle, and each expression
of pain is faithfully and permanently recorded.
Again your strong arms lift me, off my feet this time, and
I am as helpless in them as I am in my tight and unforgiving
bonds. You seem to effortlessly carry me up the stairs into
the dining room, laying me on my belly on the heavy dining
table. Producing a turnbuckle, you fasten the D-ring on
the end of the armbinder to the buckle on the strap around
my ankles. In this way, I am hogtied on the table, with my
face just extending over one edge.
I have a good idea of what to expect when you lower your pants.
But instead of immediately forcing your way in, you play
the end across my face and over my lips and still-gagged
mouth. I eagerly open my mouth wide when you again remove
the gag, but you instead allow me only to tease the end with
my lips, tongue and teeth. Finally you plunge yourself
into my face.
My God, youre huge! Deeper and deeper you thrust your swollen,
lipstick-stained shaft into my mouth, forcing your way
steadily down my throat. You explode inside my mouth, and
the resulting expression proves to be more than I can handle.
As you relax and withdraw, I can feel your juices dripping
down my chin to the floor, and rolling down the back of my
throat, warm and
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