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Message-ID: <63658asstr$1450451402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} The Come N Dump Inn 3
Lines: 447
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 2015 10:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
The Come N Dump Inn 3  (BDSM)
 
    Not sure if this is a good idea or  not, but asking Johnny for a paper 
cup and pouring my double Scotch into the  container, taking a water bottle 
with me and walking to the restrooms.   Pushing the door to the Ladies room 
open and finding a stall and sitting down,  forcing myself to pee the last 
few drops of moisture I can work from my  body.  Sipping the scotch, feeling 
it warm and comfortable deep inside of  me.  Numbing my head a little as I 
sit controlling my breathing, deep slow  breaths.  "I might be getting too 
old for this shit."  This thought  rattling around my brain as I try to 
prepare myself for the next few  hours.  My body older and not as resilient as it 
once was.  Hoping  that nothing will go wrong.  Always the fear of an 
accident of some type, a  mistake.  And as I fear the near future, I can feel 
moisture between my  labia, not pee, but my juices.  Leaking as I anticipate 
Stephen's  attention.  My hope was that he might need a participant to help 
with his  show, a victim, a needy girl.
    Wiping with my fingers and licking  the faint scent of pee and the 
stronger scent of my juices from my  fingers.  One final look in the mirror and 
walking down the corridor to the  doorway for the basement.  Feeling my 
confidence in the loud tapping of my  boots on the wooden floor.  Meeting Master 
Stephen on the stairs.   "Come with me Raven."  His firm grip easily 
circling my wrist, feeling the  strength, the warmth, the unyielding vice of his 
fingers as he leads me to a  small room in the basement.  A combination, 
office/storage room cluttered  with various devices and "props".  I say props, 
as if what Stephen does is  magic or sleight of hand; but that is very far 
from the truth.  He is a  true Dominant/Sadist.  What he does is totally real. 
 It is not a fake  show that he orchestrates.  It will be him controlling 
the submissive(s)  and what goes on around him, totally.
    "Raven, here is what I have in  mind."  My hand waving him off.  
"Please, do not tell me unless I  really need to know.  I do not want to 
anticipate where you are taking me  or what comes next.  That surprise element for me 
and those watching,  increases the excitement of the moment."  My fingers 
rubbing my wrist,  feeling it a little sore from his grip.
    "Well, here is clothing for you to  wear.  I do not want to ruin this 
lovely outfit."  His fingers sliding  over the front of my vest, and pinching 
the hard nipple beneath the  material.  My mouth clamping shut, as I bite 
back an unexpected yelp of  surprise and pain.  Looking at the smug smile on 
his face, as his strong  fingers twist the material of my vest.  My eyes 
going wide and legs  lifting on my toes as he pulls me up by my nipple.  As I 
mentioned, he  doesn't play, what he does is for real.  Holding my breath as 
I dangle on  my toes, my hands clenched at my sides, not trying to break 
away, his other hand  finding my other nipple and crushing it through the 
leather.  Holding me up  as he looks into down into my face.
    My 5'10" height and heels, still not  up to his height well in excess 
of six and a half feet.  My lower lips  trembling as I feel the fingers 
brutally pinching tighter on my nipples.   The war of wills already started, as I 
try not to react to his fingers.   Stifling the ain in my chest as my eyes 
focus on his, but my mind has sealed  itself off from the pain neutrons, 
sending impulses from my sensitive  nipples.  I know I can not keep this up for 
long, and so does  Stephen.  My nipples actually being more sensitive then 
my clitoris or as  least as sensitive.  Either will have me quivering with  
release.
    Taking a deep breath as his fingers  release my breasts and I settle on 
the floor again.  My legs trembling, as  I see his hand undoing the button 
to my vest and pushing the sides open.   My nipples hard buttons on my small 
breasts.  The deep  red color  attesting to the attention that he just gave 
them.
    Turning away and then back to me,  handing me clothing that he wants me 
to wear.  Nothing fancy or overly sexy  in the clothing.  A white peasant 
blouse, a little large for my bosum; but  I don't think it will be functional 
for long, so not a problem.  A full  skirt, loose and just below my knees,  
Cheap bikini cut panties, a nice  white color and a cheap matching bra.  At 
least no "granny" panties.   And a pair of flats, a little tight in the 
toes; but will do for  now. 
    Stepping out of my clothing as  Stephan watches and donning the cheap, 
most likely second hand store clothing  that he had available.  Why ruin 
good clothing needlessly.
    His nod of assent, his okay for my  look.  "Bastard," the word escaping 
my mouth, as I rub my sore nipples  through the blouse.  Rewarded with a 
smile from him.  That is likely  the most affection I will get from him 
tonight.
    "Fingers snaps or the word  Finis."  His head nodding assent.  These 
are my physical and verbal  "Safeword" and physical gesture.  Standard for the 
times that I have worked  with Stephan; but always a good idea to remind 
one of what they are.   Hopefully no need for them tonight.
    As I walk pass my folded leather and  my thong, I can smell the faint 
scent of my arousal.  Slipping into the  Dungeon, and trust me it looks like 
a real dungeon, walking around to the  various apparatus and instruments, 
filling the room and walls.  Not sure  what his pleasure will be this night; 
but knowing that I will earn every cent of  my pay.  Only having a few 
minutes as I finish off my drink and sip at the  bottle of water. 
    Nervous as usual.  Not sure how  I will react to his attention.  I have 
seen women and a few men beg for his  attention and then beg to be 
released, totally broken by the experience. I look  forward to it, and yes I will 
most likely beg and cry and wish to be released  from the pain and torment; 
but I will not give him my Safeword.  At least I  hope I won't.
    The large room, filling most of the  basement, now filling with your 
"wannabe" bdsm crowd and with your gawkers,  willing to pay admittance and 
your true affectionado of the lifestyle.   These people are the reason why 
Master Stephen will not put on a fake  show.  These are his peers.   These are 
the ones that matter to  him.
    Master Stephen standing in the middle  of the room, welcoming all to 
his dungeon.  He looks like a Middle Ages  torturer.  His huge muscular frame, 
the macabre collection of tattoos on  his arms and shoulders, the bald head 
and the black leather clothing.   Playing up the part; but really being 
that person.  As evil and scary as he  looks, he is that and much more.
    "Raven, come here."  His voice  carrying over the undertone of the 
crowd gathered to listen to him.   Hearing his command, and wending my way 
through the gathered men and women to  stand in front of him.  No warning, as his 
hands shoot out and grab my  nipples as he had done earlier.  The fingers 
finding the small fleshy  mounds and nipples.  Screaming loudly and with real 
fear and pain, as his  arms pull me by my breasts to him.  Spinning me 
around as his arms cross  over my body and gripping me tight to him by the 
thick; but sensitive  nubs.  My chest pumping as the crowd looks at him and then 
at me.  My  calm already shattered by the unexpected attack on my body.  My 
mouth  working silently, as I feel his fingers bearing down on my flesh.  
Holding  me to his body with one powerful arm as the other rips at the peasant 
top.   Tearing the material of the blouse and my bra from my body, exposing 
the  small breasts and the raw looking nipples, still a little misshapen 
from his  fingers.  Then moaning loudly as his hands reach over my shoulders 
and  again grabbing my nipples and breasts and standing me up on my tip toes. 
  The pain real and sharp as my breasts stretch till I am hanging by my 
nipples,  the small tips totally enclosed between his fingers.  My body 
twitching as  my feet are lifted from the floor, toes no longer balancing my 
weight.   Another loud scream of terror and pain.  Tears working in my eyes as he  
slowly lowers me to the floor.  My feet finding purchase to hold me  
upright.
    His fingers releasing my breasts, but  slapping them hard as he spin me 
to the side.  The flesh red and jiggling,  his fingerprints outlined on the 
tanned skin.  My arms at my sides, so  wanting to cover my nipples, to 
massage the pain from the flesh; but instead  trembling as I hold them tight to 
me.  This isn't just about Master Stephen  and his skill as a Dominant.  It 
is also about him having a  submissive/masochistic type that trusts what he 
does and allows him free reign  over her or his body.  My chest heaving as 
he pulls reaches for a collar  and fastens the old sweaty leather around my 
neck.  Looping two  ends of thin rope through the  "D" ring in front.  "Kneel 
 you old worthless bitch."  Falling to my knees in front of him.  My  
smooth skin of my upper body exposed to all.  Smooth and unmarred; but for  a 
splattering of freckles.
    A soft moan of pleasure as his huge  hands caress my shoulders and 
back.  My head tilted up to his as he looks  down at me.  "Open your mouth."  My 
wide mouth opening and exposing  the flatness of my tongue and then the 
puddle of spittle that slipped from his  mouth to mine.  Balancing it 
delicately on my extended tongue as I look up  at him.  So wanting to look at my 
breasts, to see what damage has been done  to them in a few brief minutes.  Just 
a dull ache to the bruised  flesh.  His hand reaching down and pulling me 
back to my feet by the rope  through the collar.  Walking behind me and with 
quick movements of his  hands, the thin rope circling each of my breasts, 
again and again, squeezing the  flesh tight where breast and chest meet.  My 
breasts formed into small  balls of flesh with thick protruding nipples as he 
ties the ends securely to the  "D" ring.  The dull ache again rising in 
cresendo as the thin rope cuts off  the circulation.  My chest warm and feeling 
the flesh stretched tight on my  breasts. 
    His hand curling into my shoulder  length hair and leading, pulling me 
over to a table with various sized  ropes.  Pulling my wrists behind my back 
and looping a length around them  over and over and then between the 
wrists.  The rough hemp rubbing my  wrists as I feel the circulation slowing in 
them.  Then another length just  above my elbows, pulling my shoulders back 
and causing my swollen breasts to be  thrust forward.  Feeling the strain 
already in my shoulders, as he likewise  wraps my upper arms as my wrists.  His 
hand whipping to his waist and  pulling out a small razor sharp knife, that 
quickly cuts away the strands of my  torn blouse and bra.  Then sliding it 
to my waist and cutting the band of  my skirt.  The material sliding in a 
puddle around my ankles, exposing my  bikini panties.  Grunting as his hand 
reaches for my waistband while the  other squeezes the full pads of flesh of my 
labia.  Eyes closing as I feel  his hand pulling the material between my  
lips and exposing them as he rips  the leg holes apart.
    As much as a whore as I may be, being  forcefully exposed to others is 
humiliating.    His hand reaching  for the panties, lifting them and 
exposing the moisture now wetting the crotch  panel.  A coarse sniff and then 
flinging them into the crowd.  "Step  out of your shoes." 
    His hand reaching behind me and  grabbing my wrists, leveraging my body 
downward, as he reaches for a rope  suspended from an eyebolt in the 
ceiling.  Jerking my arms hard upward and  tilting me till I am barely touching 
the floor with my feet.  Tying my  wrist to the rope and securing it.  
Crouched over as he attaches a spreader  bar to my right ankle and then to my left. 
 Legs wide open as I lean  forward, breasts looking like purplish water 
balloons hanging from my  chest.  A red ball gag, being inserted into my mouth, 
gagging as the dry  plastic sucks the moisture from my mouth.  Lips opened 
wide.  My hair  pulled into a pony tail.  Jerking as a finger teases my 
wrinkled asshole,  feeling the coolness of the lube as the thick digit is worked 
into my ass.   Eyes wide staring fixedly at spot on the floor.  Feeling a 
thick metal hook  being inserted gently into my ass, then my head being 
pulled back hard and two  small blunt metal hooks being inserted in my nostrils, 
locking my head backwards  and up, the connecting straps being adjusted and 
locked to keep them from  slipping out.
    Not sure how I am feeling, as I have  not felt this devise before, even 
though I have seen it used.  My face  distorted by the gag and hooks.  
Drool beginning to slip from my open  mouthin spite of it feeling dry.  Tongue 
trapped so all I can make is muted  sounds.  Shoulders straining in their 
sockets as I am bent over and at the  same time my head pulled back.  Legs 
spread apart as I try to stand  flatfooted on the floor.  My chest feeling numb 
and throbbing at the same  time.  Already out of my comfort level, as I am 
totally helpless and  partially disoriented.
    An awkward hop, as I feel the first  stinging blow of the thin willow 
across my ass cheeks.  Then the next  tapping on my right cheek, then 
another, a series of stinging taps, overlapping  the spot of the previous blow.  My 
ass cheek burning with a steady pain,  and my body tensing with each 
additional slap of the thin branch.  Each  stinging slap leaving a bright red welt 
on my flesh.  Working from the to  of my ass cheek, and then stinging the 
crease where my thigh and ass cheek  meet.  Jerking in extreme pain as the 
stick slams again and again into the  back of my thigh, then hearing his steps 
as he moves and starts working the  other side, from ass cheek to thigh 
again.   My thighs tensing in  anticipation, but misjudging the strokes badly.  
Tears of pain sliding down  my face, merging with the droplets and thick 
strings of spittle hanging from my  chin.  Grunts and groans alternating as I 
writhe helplessly exposed to his  stinging willow branches. 
    My awkward tensing causing more  strain on aching shoulder sockets.  
Panting as my chest struggles for  oxygen, breathing through my nose, a small 
wet stream of moisture oozing from  the stretched nostrils.  Trying to think 
why I am allowing myself to be  treated, to be used like this.  The pain on 
my ass cheeks and thighs,  making me forget about the pain in my bloated 
and discolored breasts.  At  least till Master Stephen reaches underneath me 
and attaches clover clamps to my  nipples.  the pain intense as the ends bite 
into my nipples, my legs  shaking as I try to block out the pain, my body 
shuddering and the heavy clamps  tugging on the bruised nipples.  A roaring 
in my ear, as I feel a moment of  disorientation, as I feel clover clamps 
being attached to my labia, tugging on  the sensitive lips, biting into 
delicate tissue and then the feeling of fishing  line attaching nipple to labia.  
Taut connections, to cause pain with every  tremble, every shudder of my body.
    Feeling the blunt fingers touching my  swollen cunt lips and massaging 
just inside the opening.  Rubbing the  greasy moisture of my oozing cunt 
walls.  Hearing his laugh as he knows  that I am excited and aroused in spite 
of the pain.  His finger jamming  into my cunt, easily slipping deep, and my 
walls responsing by clasping at his  finger.  My eyes fluttering as I hump 
his finger, each movement causing  pain to numerous parts of my body.
    Sweat beading on my body, as I look  at the wooden beamed ceiling, not 
able to look down or to the side.  My  world a series of awkwardly pulled 
body parts.  One bend working against  the other, as I tremble and shake legs 
spasming as the birch rods he is now  using rake across the back of my knees 
and calves.  An unworldly scream,  more in my head then escaping from my 
mouth as he slaps the birch up and between  my legs.  The rough wood biting 
into the tender flesh of my cunt lips and  folds.  My tummy muscles crawling 
under the skin as I feel a tremor and  stand mortified as my bladder releases 
a stream of piss, coating my cunt lips  and legs with the acrid scented 
moisture.  The piss making the blows  between my legs sting more, as I try to 
escape the blow, but unable to move or  close my legs because of the spreader 
bar.
    Not caring who is watching or who  isn't, just thinking of the pain 
coursing through my body, waiting for each  stroke an the moment of burning 
pain.  My tensed, cramped muscles spasming  to add to the total spastic 
movements of my uncontrolled body.  Trying to  take my mind off of the pain and 
aches, trying to recite the  alphabet and failing, not getting past the next 
stroke of the birch or  willow or whatever is striking my body.  Thankful for 
the clover clamps,  keeping a few parts of my body from contacting the 
various rods.
    Feeling the sweat rolling into my  eyes and burning as they are open 
wide.  Snob and tears and spittle coating  my face.  My body and itching 
burning mass of welted flesh from the  unerring accuracy of Stephen's aim.  The 
smell of sweat and piss and my  musk and fear, filling my flared nostrils.  
Not knowing if it has been  minutes or hours or days that I have been 
standing exposed and helpless.   Just knowing that each minute is an eternity.
    Waiting for what seems like hours for  the next stroke.  My body 
jerking at any sound, other then the roaring in  my ears.  Hearing Master Stephen 
talking but not registering his words, and  cringing, knowing that I am 
missing a command.  My body shaking as I feel a  warm body behind me, and then a 
eyes going wide as I feel a cock slipping into  my greased cunt.  The cock 
filing my swollen and aroused pussy.  A few  bumps on my sore ass with 
coarse pubic hair, then moaning as I feel the shaft  slip from my cunt.  My 
voiceless mouth moaning in loss, and then my body  jerking with pain as the cock 
pounds deep into my cunt again.  Hard quick  strokes, pulling on the 
assorted clamps and ropes.  My body cruelly being  twisted and strained as each 
stroke causes my cunt and core pleasure and the  rest of my body intense pain.  
Finally my cunt winning out and my walls  clamp and squeeze in a hard 
orgasm on the intruding cock.  Moaning  helplessly into my ball gag, Nasty fluids 
spilling from my face to the floor  below me.
    My thighs tensing as I feel the cock  slip from me.  Then feeling the 
slow lava flow of semen, slipping from  between my spread thighs.  Knowing 
that I have been seeded and fucked,  helpless to stop or prevent it in any 
way.  Not hearing Stephen anymore,  just feeling another and another cock 
filling my cunt and spewing more seed into  my helpless opening.    I know that 
these men can't all be Master  Stephen.  He knows it as well, as I cannot 
even see who is fucking me,  using my hole.  Trying to keep count of the men 
that fucked me as I hang  helpless, do make sure I get my fair cut of what he 
charged.  Losing the  count as I hang in a cocoon of dull burning aches and 
pain.  Not sure if I  blacked out or just blocked the pain and the fucking 
from my mind, but  registering that the fishing lines holding my nipples and 
cunt lips tight is  loosened and then the hooks taen from my nostrils.  My 
head hanging down as  I try to ease the strain in my neck.  The hook in my 
ass sliding out,  knowing the my ass will gape for awhile.  Finally shifting 
my head and  looking around, seeing groups of people using some of the other 
devices spread  around the room. 
    In spite of that, seeing a group  still gathered around me, not sure if 
they have been there the whole time, or if  they came back after the last 
man finished fucking me from behind.  Gasping  as I feel the ball gag eased 
out of my aching and stretched lips, my tongue  feeling swollen as I try to 
lick at my lips.  Tasting spittle and snot as I  try to clean around the 
crusted moisture coating my lips.  My chest pumping  to breathe through my mouth 
again.  The ragged gulps of earlier now strong  inhalations of oxygen.  
Feeling liberated and exhilerated for a few brief  moments as I fill my blood 
with oxygen.  Moaning loudly as I feel my arms  lowered behind me, my whole 
body shuddering and wobbling as the strained that  supported me is released. 
    Feeling the strength of Master  Stephen alongside of me, supporting me 
as I stand on spread legs.  "Are you  okay to stand alone," his voice close 
to my ear.  My nod of assent and I  feel him supporting me for a moment 
more, then his hands around my feet, undoing  the spreader bar from one then the 
other ankle.  "Follow  me."
    Looking at him and then turning  slowly, my whole body protesting, and 
then my steps ginger and tentative as the  backs of my thighs protest with 
each movement of my legs.  My usual long  strides, short mincing steps, 
feeling like an old person unsure and barely  lifting my feet to move.  Not even 
wanting to know what I must look like at  this point, not meeting the eyes 
of the people I pass as I follow Master Steven  to a table.
    Looking down at my balloon like  breasts, so swollen and discolored, 
jiggling on my chest as I walk.  The  skin stretched tight over the trapped 
blood.  Feeling the heavy weights of  the clover clamps on my nipples and cunt 
lips as I walk.  Stopping at the  foot of the odd shaped table.  I would 
guess it is a variation of a St.  Andrews Cross.  Five planks jutting out from 
the middle, a short one  on top for a head, a long plank jutting straight 
out from each side, and finally  two long planks angled out like the bottom 
of an "X" on the bottom.  A  leather strap on each of these five outcrops.
    Shuffling to one side and being  literally picked up and deposited on 
the apparatus.  "Lay back."   Responding to his command and laying my head 
down, then extending my arms to the  sides and moving my legs till they rest 
on the angled boards.  Moaning  softly as my thighs and ass cheeks rub on the 
rough hewn wood.  Then  screaming as I slide up a couple of inches.  A wave 
of darkness filling my  mind for a moment, then a flash of red splashing 
across my mind's eye.   Feeling the leather strap sliding over my wrists and 
then ankles.  Securing  my pain wracked body to the wooden frame.  Lastly a 
leather strap securing  my head to the short outcrop of the frame, my neck 
immobile.  Trying to  look down at my body, just seeing the swollen sacks of 
my breasts, a beastly  dark red color.  The heavy metal clover leafs still  
attached. 
    Looking up at Master Stephen as he  stands over me.  His sardonic smile 
not making his face any more  friendly.  "Do you want to use the word?"  
His voice soft, not  carrying to the others watching.  An brief shake of my 
head all it took for  his hand to raise the ball gag, coated with snot and 
saliva to again stretch my  lips and seal my mouth from recognizable speech.    
I can smell  the aroma of my body, as I lay on the frame.  A combination of 
sweat, and  piss and male cum and my musk and of course fear secreting from 
every cell of my  being. 
    A feeling of surprise and nausea, as  the frame is slowly flipped up to 
hold me in an upright position.  My  looking out at the crowd of 
spectators.  Others moving to watch, walking  away from the apparatus they were using 
while the brief "intermission fuck" too  place.
    Vaguely recognizing some of those in  the crowd, as I wait the 
pleasure, or should I say the pain of Master  Stephen.  My thighs a series of raised 
welts from the repeated strokes of  the birch and willow.  My upper body 
was able to escape most the attention  that my ass cheeks and the back of my 
legs received.  My flesh a dull ache  of heat, my skin feeling like it is raw 
and unfire, sensitive to the slightly  touch.  Wincing as I shift on the 
frame, again the rough wood rubbing my  ass raw.  My head hanging forward, 
supported by the neck strap.  My  face coated and nasty with liquid and semi 
crusted moisture.  Moaning  softly into the ball gag, as I struggle to pull 
each breath into my lungs  through my snotty nostrils. 
    Not paying attention to Stephen as I  try to clear my mind of the pain. 
 My body jerking with a loud grunt, as  the flogger snaps across my 
stomach.  My body sucking in and causing me to  choke for air for a moment, more 
spittle slipping from the opening of the ball  gag.  My tummy flesh rippling 
under my skin as the flogger strikes again  and again.  Heating and stinging 
the skin of my unblemished stomach.   Again and again the tails of the 
flogger snapping at the soft flesh of my  stomach and mound.  The flick of the 
wrist so practiced and percise, the  flogger biting at each inch of my skin, 
turning it from tanned to a cherry  red.  Then walking the multi-tailed short 
whip over my thighs and  legs.  Stephen finding the softer velvety inner 
flesh of my thighs and  marks them with measured percision.
    My body oozing a film of sweat as my  skin heats up as if an internal 
furnace kicked on.  My moan steady as his  wrist spins again and again, 
flinging the cartwheeling leather knotted tips  against my yielding flesh.  
Finding my body flinching with the movement of  his arm rather then the actual 
stroke to the amusement of the  spectators. 
    Managing to amuse them more, as my  muffled screams issue from my 
blocked mouth, as Master Stephen changes aim again  and works the knotted ends 
over the badly distended balls of my breasts.   Each stroke causing the 
stretched flesh to amplify the pain seemingly ten  fold.   My body tensing and 
arching from the frame as much as the  leather bindings would allow.  My 
inisdes rippling and cramping to reject  more and more of the lingering seed from 
my cunt.  Tears streaming  unabashed down my cheeks as I scream almost 
silently into my  gag. 
    Finally directly the flogger to my  cunt lips, bruised and sore from 
the heavy clover clamps and the numerous  genital fuckings.  Closing my eyes 
as a gasp and choke, fighting for   air and control of my body, as my walls 
ripple inside in a small orgasm, my  glistening juices wetting the swollen 
lips of my cunt.  My chest heaving as  I again find myself responding to the 
movement of his arm, rather then the  actual touch of the flogger.
    Eyes not totally focused, as I see  Master Stephen set down the flogger 
and take a drink of water.  My looking  to him, and catching his, begging 
for some moisture to replace fluids being  pushed from my body.  Watching as 
he wets a rag and squeezes it over the  ball gag.  My throat working as the 
cool water seeps into my mouth.   Swallowing the precious droplets.  Then 
feeling the cloth being pressed  over my face, soothing the fevered heat of my 
forehead and the flush of my  cheeks, and lifting it from my face, 
squeezing drops onto my breasts, sliding in  a slow stream down my body to cool the 
fevered flesh for a brief  moment.
    Grunting as I feel the clover leaf  clamps freed from my cunt lips.  
Feeling the tingling of the nerve endings  coming back to awareness.  Then to 
a lesser extent as he pulls them from my  nipples.  The breasts still 
discolored balloons on my chest.  Nipples  sticking out obscenely and drawing his 
attention, as he twists them savagely  from one dircctional to the opposite. 
 My upper body trying to twist with  his fingers, to relieve the pain.
    Mewling, into the ball gag, as his  blunt fingers, find my clit and 
gently massages the smooth pearl.  My hips  pushing to his finger, Pressing my 
pearl on the wide pad, trying to rub the  sensitive tip.  And moaning in 
frustration as he steps back.  My hips  still weakly grinding to the spot where 
his finger was.  More of my juices  leaking onto my fevered cunt lips.
    Feeling a little dizzy as he lowers  the frame to almost level.  Then 
watching as he walks over to the foot of  the frame and ties twine to my toes 
to hold the bottoms of my feet  exposed.  Watching as he walks away and 
moves back to the foot of the frame  with a willow rod.  Feeling the light tap 
of the willow on the bottom of my  left foot.  Then another, the taps 
becoming more frequent, and then  suddenly snapping against my soles.  The 
exquisite pain, tensing my legs  with each snap of the willow rod.  My mind 
registering the pain and trying  to block it out.  Each blow more intense and 
painful then the ones to my  body.  a scream caught in my throat from each one, 
my body like a taut bow  string, muscles straining, stretching and 
compressing as Stephen moves to the  other foot.  Then doing both feet again with 
twigs of a birch bundle.   The rough wood abraiding the first layer of skin from 
my soles.  My toes  curling and wiggling as best the bonds would allow.  
The Safeword on the  tip of my tongue, my fingers curling and uncurling as I 
fight not to let Stephen  break me. 
    Finally steppping away from my feet,  as he reaches for a fresh birch 
rod.  Twirling it and then snapping it over  my left breast, then my right, 
then my left, then my right one.  Over and  over the rod stinging the 
stretched flesh.  My body arching up, wrist and  ankles rubbing on the leather 
restraints,  Stephen stopping to move the  strap on my neck to my forehead, 
holding my head in place.  Looking up at  him and seeing a smile on his lips.  
Knowing that he is surprised that I  have not given in to the pain and abuse.
    Then feeling the tapping again of the  rod on my breasts and nipples.  
Just the mere touch, causing my body to  react.  My chest heaving, the round 
breasts jiggling looking like they  might burst any second.  Laying back as 
he sets the willow rod down and  takes a short pointy wooden dowel. 
    The being pushed against my sole  gently, causing a sweat to break out 
on my body from the intense pain of the  simple gentle pressure.  My body 
quivering as he does the same to my  breasts, the point like a needle lancing 
into my body, even though it didn't  even break the skin.  Again and again 
my body convulses in a series of mini  orgasms or are they spastic 
contractions or cramping of an over taxed  body.  It make no difference at this point, 
as the continue point pricks  trigger a reaction of some type in my flesh.  
The feeling him working the  pointy dowel against the flesh of my fleshy 
swollen labia.  The point  dragging along the sensitive walls, my body jerking 
and arching again and again,  and then arched as he continues to press 
around the base of my pearl.  My  mind not registering any input as press my 
clit again and again against the  sharp point, my juices leaking out in a 
strong musky scent and then a squirt of  fluid wetting between my legs and 
coating me.  Finally a last almost  soundless scream as I pass from reality to 
some form of sub space.  A warm  feeling of well being soothing my brain, my 
muscles tensing once and then  relaxing. 
      
 
 
    
    
     
    
    
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