Willing
I am tied down, spread-eagled, ankles and wrists firmly attached to the four posts at the corners of the bed.I’m the wrong way round, my feet towards the headboard, my head hanging over the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed. The only thing I’m wearing is a blind-fold.
The blindfold makes you anxious – you have to rely on the other senses and every unfamiliar noise puts you even more on edge. I hear the door being pushed open, dragging slightly over the carpet, and someone else is in the room with me. It’s probably my husband, almost certainly my husband, but the thought always goes through your mindthat he might actually have left me at the mercy of someone else. He has threatened to often enough. I hear him (I assume it’s a him) moving around the room, no doubt examining me, deciding where to start.
Then comes the first touch. A hand moves over my body, the faintest caress. It glides up my inner thigh, teasingly skirting the open lips of my cunt, sliding over my hips, my stomach, my rib-cage and finally to my tits. The pressure increases, my right tit is gripped and kneaded; the touch has become abrupt, almost callous. My left tit is gripped as well, and then both hands squeeze; relentless, unyielding pressure. The pain builds and builds and I cry out. I hate to show weakness so early on, but I have to cry out. The hands open and my tits slump heavily back to their usual position, still throbbing. I wait for whatever comes next, my ears straining for any clue as to what that might be. The pause is unbearable.
My left tit receives a harsh, stinging slap. Almost before I can cry out the right tit receives the same. The pain shocks through me and I strain against the ropes but they just bite into my wrists, cruel and unyielding. Another slap, and another, and another; each with force enough to set the tender flesh rippling. The blows are relentless, random, excruciating; and nothing I can do prepares me for the sting of the next one. The punishment goes on and on to the point where it becomes almost unbearable and I am on the verge of begging for mercy.
Another pause. My tits throb, my breathing comes in whimpering gasps that makes my chest heave, and the movement only causes even greater pain. My skin craves the soothing relief of a gentle rub. But I feel the hands on my tits once more, and I know there will be no letting up. The fingers probe my tender flesh, making me gasp and wince. My nipples are squeezed, a slow yet remorseless pincher grip. The pressure builds and with it the pain. I hold my breath, fighting back the urge to scream, but I cannot contain it for long. My cries merely egg him on, he squeezes harder and harder. My head shakes from side to side and my legs thrash as much as they able. The torment is incredible. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as the pain and my screams intensify. Then sudden release and once again I slump back, my body bathed in sweat, my breath coming in shuddering gasps, my tits are on fire.
I hear the rattle of metal – a chain. A tinny, pathetic jingle; the herald of fresh torment. He dangles the chain by my ear making sure that I am aware of it. He drags it along the side of my body, up over my waist and stomach and then lays it across my rib-cage. A finger and thumb pull on my left nipple, causing it to inflame and harden. Then the brutal pinch of a clamp bites hard. A second clamp closes on my right nipple. I can feel the chain that links them trailing over my tits, cold against my skin. He lifts the chain and slowly pulls it tight, the pressure from the clamps increase as the chain takes the weight of my DD boobs.It’s a sharp, telling pain and it won’t go away. You never get used to it, it never fades. It’s not like the sting of a slap, or a dull ache that you learn to ignore, it is constant and deep and all you can do is try to endure it as best you can.I hear him move away but my tits still hang – evidently he has hooked the chain over something. I try to keep my breathing shallow and controlled to prevent any sudden movement that will intensify the pinch of the clamps.
I feel his fingers on my cunt. He spreads the lips wide apart. I’m wet: there’s nothing like pain for getting you wet. Two fingers slip inside me easily, then he adds a third and a fourth. I wonder if I’m about to get fisted. I am wet, but not so well lubricated that a fist will penetratewithout hurting. I bite my lip and brace myself for the push I feel sure is coming, but instead the fingers begin to stimulate me. Slowly they glide up and down my moist, warm canal, while the thumb flicks over my clit. The touch is wonderful, so soft and sensuous, sending waves of sweet pleasure rippling through me. The motion intensifies, becomes quicker, more urgent. The early stages of orgasm begin to kick in.
The stimulation escalates and my cunt responds, craving to be penetrated more deeply, more quickly, more harshly. He could fist me now and, yes, it would still hurt, but I wouldn’t care. I want him to drive me on, to make me cum, I long to achieve the ecstasy of fulfilment. My hips buck and I cry out in sudden pleasure-sapping anguish as the movement pulls on the chain and the clamps harden down on my nipples.
The fingers continue their work inside me, but for me the moment has gone, torn away by the torment of the nipple torture. Once again I find myself fighting to control my breath, fighting back the gasps that make my chest heave and bring further hurt from the clamps.
He pulls his fingers out of my cunt and I lay for a while, bathed in sweat and wondering what will come next. I feel ropes being drawn and tightened around my knees, one then the other. The ropes are pulled taut, drawing my thighs wide open. I feel something soft yet coarse being drawn along the inside of my leg. A multitude of thin strands gently caress the soft, tender flesh as they travel along my thigh and come to rest upon my cunt. I can feel the fear rising from deep within as I realise what is about to happen.
There is the slightest of sounds, a gentle whisper, the faintest of air currents, and then the sharp sting as the thongs of a whip connect with my cunt. An explosion of pain sears outwards from the epicentre, wracking my body. The clamps pinch hard on my nipples, like a cruel echo. The pain is incredible and I scream aloud.
The whip connects again, forcing another scream. Tears stream from my eyes and my body is convulsing with sob after sob, causing the clamps to chomp on my nipples. I whimper as the thongs drag against the tender contours of my cunt as the whip is drawn up for another blow. My knees strain against the ropes, but they are unyielding. My cunt is fully exposed and vulnerable, my labia drawn open by the wide set of my thighs, exposing my most intimate, delicate flesh.I brace, but nothing can prepare you for the shock as the thongs bite hard.
Another strike and this time my cry is an exhortation of sheer misery; my mind is numb, my body bruised and sore. Every blow is more harrowing than the last. Every shriek is louder, more heart-felt. Every hot tear stings more than the last. Every touch of the whip layers fresh pain on ever building torment.My cunt is raw and feels as though it will never be healed. I am on the edge of despair, not knowing how much more I can take, wanting it to stop and yet lying here bound, open and utterly helpless.
I feel the thongs play about inside of my thighs, once again teasing the next thrash. The thongs jostle sadistically against my cunt, and even the lightest touch against my bruised, tender lips provokes a shudder whimper. The heartless taunting goes on for an age, the whip pulls away as if to strike, only to return to torment me further. My sobs are constant now, the torment of suspense seeming to me to be far worse than the punishment itself. Then it comes. Five blows in quick succession, building in strength and intensity; a crescendo of excruciating hurt and distress that forces one final tortuous scream.
“FFFUUUCCKKK!”
My cries fade and there is near silence. Nothing but my own little sobs between gasping breaths. Once again the suspense builds; but I can no longer feel the whip’s caress against my skin.
The ropes around my knees and ankles are released and I pull my legs together to protect my poor abused cunt from further hardship. I feel my tits lift as the chain tightens. The torture of my cunt had pushed the all thoughts of my clamped nipples aside. Now the cruelty of their pinch reaches new levels as the tension on the chain increases. My tits are stretched tight as they are pulled upwards, forcing me to arch my back to relieve the pressure, but still the chain pulls and the clamps’ bite becomes ever more harrowing.
Suddenly the pressure becomes too much and my left nipple drags itself free, exploding in pain as it does so. Pain from thatfinal, almost desperate, pinch as my nipple escapes, and pain as the expelled blood flows back and feeling returns with it. I wait despairingly for the right nipple to follow suit and all I can do is try to manage the hurt and anguish as best I can. My body writhes as much as my bounds hands will allow, twisting and curling into a grotesque parody of the foetal position that is the ultimate comfort of a battered body and tortured soul. Were kind hands to caress my abused flesh the pain would ease and the hurt be soothed away. But the hands that touch my skin are not kind, and their cruelty is not yet over. They grip my ankles and force them upwards and apart.
To a lady a cunt is her fortress, her moist opening is the vulnerable treasure within its walls, and her thighs are the strong gates that protect against invasion. No ropes nor ties now hold my legs fast, yet I cannot find the strength within me to close them. I am conquered, the gates wide open and the treasure ripe for plunder.
I feel him on the bed with me, kneeling at the breach. His thumb runs along the groove between my cunt lips, sliding between my open passage and my clitoris. The movement is a cruel parody of masturbation; what should be pleasurable merely sends more shards of pain shooting through me. He slaps my cunt with his cock and I flinch. It is little more than a tap, but the whip has made me so very sore and I cannot endure it. His hand guides his cock head down between my lips and engages the tip against my defenceless opening. I feel his weight shift as he prepares to plunge his cock deep inside me.
“No!” My plea is barely more than a whisper, and uttered more in despair than a request. My cunt is still raw and I have no desire to have to bear the anguish of his cock fucking me. Immediately I regret my slip. I have been disobedient and now deserve further punishment. If he whips my cunt further before returning to fuck it, I have only myself to blame.
I feel his weight shift again and his cock pulls away from my cunt. I wait in anticipation of my punishment. Another shift and I feel his cock pushing against my arse. I smile in gratitude, despite the sharp pain and discomfort as his cock enters inside me, driven in deep with neither kindness nor the aid of lubricant. He pounds my tight, unyielding hole with a succession of forceful, increasingly brutal strokes.This is not the first time he has abused my arse in this way, but for the first time I give it willingly.
Fuck me, my love, fuck me hard. Ignore my whimpering cries, my insignificant winces, my blood-tainted bitten lip. My body will heal, the hurt will fade and all that will remain is the joyous memory that I have been of service. So use me for your pleasure. I am yours.
Fuck me.