Assignment 07-27-10

Punishment Assignment: (assigned by Master Brandon) The night before the assignment you will put your padlock key on a 4 foot string and freeze it in a 20oz bottle's worth of water. The following day you will take the bottle (in a cooler), your Japanese Clover Clamps, your butterfly clitoral vibrator, your wrist cuffs, and your padlock and drive to any location you desire provided said location has a chain link fence. When you arrive you will strip naked but you will leave the crotch rope and ben wa balls in and tight. You will put on the butterfly vibrator and then clip the clamps to your nipples. You will tie the end of the string that is attached to the bottle and key to the middle of the chain connecting the nipple clamps. Toss the bottle over the top of the fence so that it dangles on the other side, pulling on your nipples. Activate the butterfly vibrator and turn it to its maximum setting. Attach your cuffs and padlock them to the fence so that you can get to the key when it is finally freed from the ice. You may cum if necessary. In the event that you are approached, you must ask them to spank you but you can not let the crotch rope be removed.

The gravel under the truck tires crunched and I looked in the rear view mirror. A long trail of billowing dust stretched back toward the country road, at least a half a mile, and I put it in park, my eyes flashing through the windshield and across the chain link fence before me.

Are you wondering what I was doing there? Sure you are. I admit that I was wondering what I was doing there. Unfortunately, I had a pretty good idea. It had taken me almost an hour to find an appropriate spot to do this, and in the end I found myself outside a large radio antenna, complete with small concrete hut and chain link fence. It was located about four miles south west of my farm and was in the middle of some fields. No one around. Few, if any passing cars. It suited my need to remain undiscovered during what was coming, but I was still dreading it.

I got out of the truck with my bag and cooler. I was dressed for the heat of course: flip flops, khaki shorts, a blue tee shirt and bra made up my regular ensemble. Of course underneath the shorts I wasn’t wearing the typical panties so commonly available at lingerie stores across the country. Nope. I was wearing something that was more readily available from a hardware store; and it chaffed.

For four days, with the exception of a blissful five hours on Saturday, I had been wearing a rather tight, rather scratchy, rather soaked rope thong that was embedded both in my ass and between the swollen, wet, and tender petals of my pussy. This, combined with the added effects of keeping a pair of ben wa balls tucked up inside me for the entire time created a plethora of sexual urges, usually culminating in some wild and rather agonizing coital thrusting. The original punishment also called for me to masturbate at least twice: daily, through the rope thong, and only focusing on my clit. While I’m no stranger to clitoral orgasm, such direct, prolonged and abrasive stimulation had become something both hated and desired, all at the same time. I was living in a catch 22 situation (and still am…with one day to go!) where the time I spent masturbating relieved not only the sexual tension but discomfort, as well as made me even more tender and more sensitive to the pain of the rope slipping and sliding along my slit. Masturbate twice? Ha! I’ve been masturbating fifteen to twenty times daily, just to spare myself the agony of sitting there enduring the rope. And each masturbation just makes me hurt more.

But I was recently reminded that I am a nympho humiliation pain slut, so shut up and stop complaining, right?

The chain link fence enclosed about three hundred or so feet, with the large metal scaffold of antenna right in the center. My large and thick sunglasses muted the glare of the summer Texas sun, and I stepped up to the fence and dropped my cooler and bag. I peeled my shirt off, dumping it on the ground, following it with my bra. I immediately felt the heat on my breasts. Let’s face it: ninety eight degrees at two o’clock in the afternoon is pretty intense, especially in direct sunlight. My thumbs hooked my waist band and soon my shorts joined my bra and shirt.

I grabbed a bottle of sunscreen. Seventy five S.P.F. in fact. I took several moments to liberally smear every portion of my body, except where the crotch rope lay against my skin. I’m certainly willing to endure my share of discomfort and pain, but getting sunburn wasn’t on the menu. After I glistened, my skin reflective, I went about preparing my punishment assignment.

The first thing to do was put on my butterfly vibrator. This is a simple device. It’s just a plastic triangle with a little bump on one side that is supposed to be worn directly over your clit. It has straps to hold it in place, and I stepped into the makeshift leg holes and pulled the little vibrator up and into place. It didn’t fit correctly across my clit due to the rope and tiny knot that kept the crotch rope tight. But I knew from experience that this wouldn’t matter much. The butterfly stimulator would buzz, on high, and that in turn would cause the rope lying against my clit to shake. It wouldn’t be long before I was screaming in ecstasy and agony.

My Japanese Clover Clamps were next and I pulled out the heavy hardware and held it up. Sunlight flashed on the steel chain connecting the two large clips and I spent a moment or two getting them on my breasts. My nipples are actually quite average in size, so sometimes it makes clamping them a bit of a chore. The delicious pain that shot up through each tit just made me hornier and I couldn’t control the involuntary thrusts of my hips. This of course caused the rope to move through my pussy like a saw and I could feel the fire of sexual need building rapidly.



Next I put on my wrist cuffs. These are just an old pair of nylon and foam toy cuffs Kari bought me from a store years ago. Each has a D link metal clip and I hung my padlock from the clip, knowing I’d be cuffing myself to the fence shortly. I bent down and opened the cooler, pulling out my frozen bottle of water. I had used an empty soda bottle and had removed the wrapper so I could see the key and rope clearly. The key was at the very bottom, encased in ice, the long string a white line going up through the solid block of water and emerging from the open top. Already water was condensing along the outside of the bottle and I could see that just a little bit of the ice at the top had melted. I set the bottle down on the ground by my feet and tied the rope to the chain connecting my nipples together. So with everything in place, I turned the butterfly vibrator to maximum, picked up the bottle, and tossed it over the fence.

Twenty ounces of water is about two or three pounds and I immediately felt it pull on my nipples. The nice thing (or perhaps the horrible thing) about Japanese Clover clamps is that pulling on them just makes them tighter. So after a minute or so I could really feel the pressure. During that minute I lifted my arms as high as I could, even standing on tiptoe to get all the way up, and quickly ran the padlock hasp through both D links and the fence. Then I locked it.

The bottle dangled on the other side of the fence, just level with my breasts. I could see the key, knowing that I would have to wait for the ice to completely melt before I would be able to free myself. My nipples ached and I could feel the trickles of perspiration flowing down my back, my brow, and even my cleavage. It was annoying.

But even more distracting was the butterfly vibrator. Its maximum setting was quite intense when directly applied to the clitoris, but when interspersed with a rope it became a torment of devilish design. It was like adding Tabasco sauce to a sandwich. Or pepper flakes to pizza. I felt my clit hardening, extending as my hips danced back and forth, only to be roughly stimulated by the shaking rope. My first orgasm happened in about four minutes and I screamed out loud in relief, only to find myself in even more agony immediately afterward.

My clit felt as if it was on fire and the vibrations didn’t stop. I focused my attention on the bottle. I couldn’t even see progress! The whole thing was still a solid block of ice and the weight was pulling on my breasts. My legs began trembling and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to stand on tiptoes much longer. I let some of my weight go to my wrists and dangled, giving my calves a rest.

That rest was shortlived though, since my loins seemed to have a mind of their own. Again fluids rushed through me, amplified by the little sparks of discomfort in my nipples and the fiery heat of the crotch rope scratching at my pussy. Soon I was involuntarily humping the butterfly vibrator, my inflamed lust not understanding that the vibrator was attached to me. I pressed myself against the fence, using the metal chain link to push on the butterfly stimulator and groaned in relief as I managed to increase the sensation and orgasm a weaker, but second time.

By the time I calmed down I could see that there was a film of water surrounding the solid core of ice in the bottle. I wasn’t sure, but I figured twenty or so minutes had passed. Occasionally my movements caused the bottle to sway, bumping against my breasts, still pressed up against the chain link. It was a sweet relief, cool water sloshing onto my belly, then cascading down toward my slit. The cold water soaked the rope and cooled my heat, but only for a few moments. The still buzzing vibrator held in place above my clit kept churning, allowing me no peace, and I began pressing myself against the fence again.

My third orgasm was quick to build and even quicker to fade, a mere blip on the chart. My arms were aching, as were my legs and toes and I frequently tried to change position. I could feel the scorching sun on my skin and I felt the tops of my toes and feet burning. I had forgotten to put sunscreen on them.

I hung there, dripping with perspiration, matching the melting ice bottle drip for drip, my hips grinding away. My clit throbbing, stinging slightly as rivulets of salty water trickled down my skin. Time seemed to stop and my world was reduced to the clicking sound of cicadas, scorching heat, and the never ending torture of my pussy. Everything seemed more intense as I dangled, the hot metal links of the fence pressing deeply into my breasts and arms. I closed my eyes, trying to relax, and only felt the incessant sexual urge coming from between my legs.

I’ve never known how long it takes to melt a bottle of ice water in direct sunlight, but I do now. I watched the core of ice become smaller and smaller, through several more orgasms, each tinier than the one before, until I was just whimpering. I was thirsty, hot, exhausted, and hurting. My nipples seemed to throb as much as my clit and knowing that there was a bottle of ice cold water just inches away from me was terrible. At one point I even tried to splash myself with the water, hoping some would get to my mouth.

After forty minutes the ice was only half the size of the bottle and I could practically taste the water. Another painful orgasmic wave and fifteen minutes later I let out a sob. My toes were on fire, from both the sun and from trying to keep my weight off my arms. Everything seemed to ache, from my throbbing nipples to my burning calves.

When the ice was only the width of my thumb I stared at it, trying to ignore what my body was telling me. The key to the padlock was now near the neck of the bottle, only a bit more ice clinging to the cold metal and the long strand of string that stretched from the key to my nipples. A bit of the water had come out of the bottle, leaving an inch or two of air at the top. This actually helped, since the ice was now exposed to the air. I licked my cracked lips, parched, so desperate for relief that I could almost taste it. I wanted the buzzing between my legs to stop. I wanted my nipples released. I wanted cool sweet water.

I was barely cognizant when the bottle fell. It actually surprised me. Part of that was because I was in the throes of another pain induced orgasm, my clit screaming as the vibrations and rope sawed at the tender nerve bundle. The pressure came off my breasts and I just stood there for a moment, trying to understand what had happened. My finger opened and I tugged the string upward until I grasped the key. It took a moment and several attempts to open the pad lock, but when I did I fell to rocky gravel, totally uncaring that I was sitting bare ass naked on the dusty stones. I reached through the fence and tried to reach the bottle, but there was no way. It had fallen too far from the chain link.

My first action was to turn off the vibrator. It was blessed relief. That’s all I can say. Then I removed the nipple clamps. I bit my lip as the blood rushed back into the pinched nubs and I sat shaking for another moment. Finally I clawed my way upright, using the fence itself to help me. I reached down and grabbed my shirt and pulled it on.

I practically ripped the butterfly stimulator off my body, not bothering to undo the straps. I cringed at the thought of putting my shorts back on, but I knew that I really didn’t have a choice, so I gingerly got them back in place. Pain lanced through my pussy, concentrating on my clit and I almost reached down to rub myself into masturbatory relief, only to realize that touching my self there was not a smart thing to do. I tossed everything in my bag and grabbed the cooler.

I stumbled to my truck and got in, chucking my belongings on the floor. The air conditioner helped a little, but I turned the truck around and headed back out to main road, speeding as quickly as I dared to a little convenience store I knew was down the road about two or three miles.

I practically ran in, bought a bottle of water and chugged it on the spot.

So I hope you’re satisfied. I think I paid dearly for those five hours of sexual bliss on Saturday. I’ve still got the rest of today too…and this crotch rope is killing me. I’m raw, I’m horny. I’ve cum like seven times today. It’s….

Punishment.

Assignment 07-26-10

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David's First Assignment

Assignment #1: (Assigned by Breanne The Sex Goddess!) Okay, you need to get together a kit. Rubber gloves, a small hand towel, baby oil, and two large thick rubber bands. If you haven't read all of my daily assignments yet, go to the next one and actually print it up. Take your new kit and the printed copy to the restroom. Take the towel, fold it in half length wise and the place the rubber glove on the towel so that the opening hangs over the top, and the fingers hang off the bottom of the towel. Then start rolling the towel. It should look like a sausage with a rubber glove in it. Snap the opening of the glove around the end of the towel sausage and then liberally oil. Then stick your dick into it. Then I want you to read my assignment while slowly moving the whole towel up and down your cock. That's my pussy. If you feel like you are about to cum, stop. As soon as you get to the end of the reading material you may cum.

OK, so the first assignment. Oh, please, don’t let me screw this one up was my first thought. LOL I guess I should start by describing the putting together of the kit. Part of it was really easy – the rubber bands. Working in a corporate office environment, that simply entailed heading to the supply closet and finding a couple of large, thick rubber bands. Two seconds later – check. Interestingly enough, there were three pairs of new women’s shoes in the closet, too. That actually left me scratching my head – never seen that before in a supply closet. What the heck? Oh, well, I digress. Moving on.

The rest of the supplies required a trip to Target. Despite the presence of Hush Puppies, there were no rubber gloves or baby oil in the supply closet. As I walked into the store, I was excited. Something about looking for contents that would allow me to be in my submissive mode, and that I was actually carrying out an assignment, gave me a little charge as I set about. The hand towel was easy enough to find. The hardest choice there was color. I started to get navy blue – my favorite color, but then I saw black, and somehow that just seemed more appropriate. Off to find the rubber gloves. Ok, that wasn’t that hard, either. In the first aid section were a number of boxes. Hmmm… not sure that I need 50, but as that was the smallest quantity box I saw, that’s what I went with. Now baby oil… I looked but didn’t see it in the health/beauty section. I was going to have to ask someone. The thought crossed my mind, “What would a sales associate think with me walking up holding a towel, rubber gloves, and asking for baby oil?” I decided it didn’t matter as those were my instructions, and so I found the nearest employee and asked him. He directed me to the baby section (duh), and off I went and there it was. $11.88 later, I was walking out of the store, kit in hand.

Back at work, it was time to execute the task. I don’t have a lot of privacy in my work space, nor a door that I can close. But, there is a private bathroom with a locking door a few floors down, and that’s where I headed to execute task #1. Upon entering the bathroom, I locked the door and pulled my kit contents out. Following my instructions, I took the towel, folding it over lengthwise, and laid it on the floor (the bathroom didn’t have a table or large sink, but everything was very clean). Then, I took a glove out of the box and laid it on top of the towel at one end, and making sure an inch or two of the wrist part of the glove extended beyond the end of the towel, proceeded to roll the towel from the gloved end to the other. Once that was completed, I folded the glove back over the towel, and wallah – a homemade pussy. Ingenious!

Now, immediately after the rolling, there wasn’t much of a cavern, and frankly I had my doubts how this was really going to work. I took a finger and pushed it in, trying to carve out some space. Sure enough, that seemed to work. Ok, now it was time to get ready. I decided I needed to remove my shirt and undershirt – just seemed like too many clothes, so I took them off and hung them on the door handle. Then, I unbuckled my belt and lowered my slacks and black boxer briefs and sat on the only seat in the room – the toilet. Reaching down, I then picked up my towel-wrapped glove and the baby oil, and proceeded to fill the glove with generous amounts of the artificial lubrication. I tested putting it on my penis (which I had pumped a few times to begin the erection process), and while the cavity was initially a bit tight, it did stretch and really mold to my cock, and it actually felt really nice.

Some of the baby oil leaked out immediately, as you’d expect, but I put some more in, and then picked up the story to read. I had selected the most recent assignment (6-29-10), and started to read. As I did so, I slowly stroked my cock with “her pussy” and my erection got increasing harder by the second. As I read, I noticed I was becoming increasingly aroused, and if I wasn’t careful, I would come in seconds. I knew, though, that I needed to get through the story before I was permitted to come (and I’ll add, that as a first assignment, the pleasure of release was a generous gift). I read about the nipple clamps being attached, the vibrators installed and turned on, and the entrance into Wendy’s. Biting my lip, I had to slow my pumping, as I knew I wouldn’t make it and wasn’t ready to fail my first task so quickly. Continuing to read, yet just holding the pussy on my cock, I continued through the story. Periodically, I’d stroke myself, feeling the warmth of the of the pussy on my cock, and man, it felt good. I wanted to stroke more and more, but refrained, as again, I wanted to hold off the release. Finally, I made it to the end, and put down the story, and closed my eyes. With renewed interest, I wrapped my hand firmly around the towel and pumped two, three, four times… I can’t remember for sure. What I can remember is the explosion that followed – a shuddering orgasm that sent a spasm through my midsection. Holding still, I allowed my cock to finish pulsing and recover, before slowly removing the glove and beginning the clean up process.

Yep, this is going to be fun.

Calling Male Submissives!

Every day I get a few emails from fans. Some guys just want to tell me how erotic I am, how much they enjoy reading about my various adventures. Some guys propose marriage. As one gentlemen put it: “Let’s see, you are a good cook, play piano, have a brain and a college degree, are good looking, AND you enjoy no holds barred sexual perversions on levels only dreamt about by experienced BDSM doms. And you wonder why you’re getting marriage proposals?”

I guess. But I also get the occasional email from some sweet, caring, romantic, adventurous guy who is just a tad bit jealous of my assignments. Submissive guys have always fascinated me. Ever since Kari made it pretty clear that she preferred domming guys, the two of us spent quite a bit of time tormenting various boys in different ways. To be honest, I enjoyed it, though I never took the lead. Kari’s favorite thing for the two of us to do was milking. I remember one time we went down to Galveston Island, found this cute guy who tried hitting on us, and we took him back to our hotel room, tied him down and milked him for fourteen hours. He was screaming by the time we were done and let him up and he couldn’t walk straight. It was fun.

So when I got an email from David, praising my submissive streak and expressing open admiration and a touch of envy for the assignments I get, I couldn’t help but respond. We conversed for a while and I remembered a conversation I had with Michael about a section for submissive males. We had discussed setting up some assignments and I figured, who better to test out a whole new concept, than my little David!

David will be “testing” my little assignments so that the rest of you guys out there who are just a tad bit submissive can follow along and see how it goes. And for you ladies… well feel free to email me or David with more ideas! So we’re going to try it and I want all of you submissive males out there to do it too! So what do you need to have on hand? Well this is what I told David:

Assignment #1: Okay, you need to get together a kit. Rubber gloves, a small hand towel, baby oil, and two large thick rubber bands. If you haven't read all of my daily assignments yet, go to the next one and actually print it up. Take your new kit and the printed copy to the restroom. Take the towel, fold it in half length wise and the place the rubber glove on the towel so that the opening hangs over the top, and the fingers hang off the bottom of the towel. Then start rolling the towel. It should look like a sausage with a rubber glove in it. Snap the opening of the glove around the end of the towel sausage and then liberally oil. Then stick your dick into it. Then I want you to read my assignment while slowly moving the whole towel up and down your cock. That's my pussy. If you feel like you are about to cum, stop. As soon as you get to the end of the reading material you may cum.

So what do you think will happen? Will David be able to do it? I think so! The real question is: Can you?

Love to everyone!

Breanne!

Punishment

Punishment comes in a variety of ways and I’m starting to get used to it. Oh, not the individual punishments, and not physically. Mentally though, I’m getting used to being punished. I guess there is something about my nature that makes punishment not just normal, but likely as well.

Last week I broke the rules of one of my assignments. Worse, I broke it repeatedly. During the Clothespin assignment I wasn’t supposed to cum. Not once. I wasn’t able to stop myself, and then, after cumming once, I figured in for a penny in for a pound, and came and came and came.

I’m paying for that right now.

It’s eleven am and I’m sitting here naked in my room at the computer, trying to write. It’s actually pretty difficult right now because I’ve already started my punishment. No doubt you’re wondering what naughty sexually explicit torment I’m enduring. Well don’t worry. I was instructed to tell you.

About a week ago I cut a five foot piece of rope from the same spool I’ve used for other assignments. Remember my two barn rope walks? Yep. Same rope. It’s about an inch thick, rough, scratchy, distinctly uncomfortable, and it tightens when it dries. After wrapping it once around my waist, just above my hips, I tied it off and then let the long tail of left over rope dangle down from the small of back, lightly scratching the crack of my ass. Then, bending over, I reached between my legs, grabbed the loose end, and pulled.

Yes. I pulled it upward. I could feel it abrading my rear end as I tugged it painfully up between my butt cheeks. Then it tightened along my perineum. After sucking in my tummy, I threaded the rope up through the waist loop, and then tied a half hitch knot along the rope between my legs. It wasn’t hard. I was in Girl Scouts, though I seriously doubt they ever imagined I’d put the knowledge to use like this.

There were only two things left to do. I grabbed my ben wa balls, pushing them past the still semi-loose rope, running them through my petals, wetting them, letting myself get turned on, swollen, my clit throbbing with need. When both balls were firmly embedded inside me, I did the final thing. I tightened the rope.

It’s spreading me right now. My pussy is parted right down the middle, my clit directly under pressure from the rope. Pink petals, now scratched from the scraggly twine sticking out of the rope, are pushed to the sides of the hemp line; tender, swollen, hurting. Of course, the worst part is being turned on. Every step is like a fire inside me, the ben wa balls stimulating me as my movements cause the rope thong to slide through my slit. It’s not much movement, but there doesn’t need to be much. A single centimeter snags my clit, tugging it painfully. It’s like walking the barn rope again, not as bad, yet so much harder.

Every once in a while I involuntarily thrust my hips, unconsciously fucking an imaginary cock. That movement incites flames between my legs and I feel myself ripening, the rope soaking as my pussy humps the hemp line. It is everything I can do not masturbate.

But I’m supposed to. In fact, my instructions are to masturbate right now. Clitorally. I’m dreading it and wanting it all at the same time. I can usually cum through penetration and I would much rather experience that then to deal with the direct stimulation of my already abused and chaffed clit. But I have no choice. The vibrator is right here beside me. I’m to hold it to my clit, right next to the rope, or over it until I cum. I’m a bit scared too. But I’m going to do it.



I’m okay. I’m back. That was… intense. The rules of my punishment are explicit. I’m too masturbate without removing the crotch rope twice a day. I’m not allowed to wear panties, and I can only remove the rope while using the bathroom, not showering. All for seven days. I’m not sure I can make it. Yes, I just exploded, but my clit is so sore that I’m in even more distress that I was before I started! I can’t seem to stop humping the rope. It’s practically punctuating my sentences, each one separated by the manic thrusting my loins, desperate for relief. Yes I came, but it wasn’t the deep refreshing body wringing orgasm that I love. It was just more torture. But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it?

I’m also dreading this weekend. I have a new assignment coming up, one from Mistress Ellen. I’m supposed to go to a truck stop, find a driver heading to the other side of Houston, and ask for a lift in exchange for me riding naked and masturbating the whole way. Then I have to do the same to get back. I was worried how my punishment would affect the assignment, so Master Brandon offered to let me purchase time, free of my crotch rope, in order to complete Mistress Ellen’s orders.

The purchase price is another assignment, to be completed the following day after Mistress Ellen’s task. The night before the assignment I have to put my padlock key on a 4 foot string and freeze it in a 20oz bottle's worth of water. The next day I have to take the bottle (in a cooler), my Japanese Clover Clamps, my butterfly clitoral vibrator, my wrist cuffs, and my padlock and drive someplace that’s got a chain link fence. When I arrive I’m supposed to strip naked but leave the crotch rope and ben wa balls in and tight. Then the butterfly vibrator goes on, followed by the nipple clamps Then I’m to tie the end of the string that is attached to the bottle and key to the middle of the chain connecting the nipple clamps. The instructions say to toss the bottle over the top of the fence so that it dangles on the other side, pulling on my nipples. Then I’m to activate the butterfly vibrator and turn it to its maximum setting. Then the cuffs go on and I’m supposed to padlock them to the fence so that I can get to the key when the ice finally melts. The nice thing is that I’m allowed to cum. Lastly, if anyone comes up to me, I’m supposed to ask them to spank me.

I’m dreading it. Not sure where I’m going to find a chain link fence out in the middle of nowhere. I’m scared I’ll have to do it around town.

Geeze, my clit aches. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I don’t know why I am! I need to cum again! But I don’t dare. I practically have rubbed my clit off as it is.

I’ll do Mistress Ellen’s assignment on Saturday, or maybe Sunday. Or if I need a break, maybe tomorrow. I don’t know. All I know is that it’s going to be a very long painful cum filled week.

Being Tortured from "The Keep"

Being Tortured - An excerpt from the unpublished novel "The Keep"

“Kari?” Fenel said as she looked up from her list.

“Yes, Mistress Fenel?” ask Kari obediently.

“You are to report to the dungeons. Go to the red room.” Fenel said.

There was an akward silence around the room as all the other girls looked at Kari. It wasn’t with jealousy. The dungeons were not a pleasant assignment. But it was Kari’s first time.

“Yes Mistress.” Replied Kari.

“Head there now.” Fenel waved her onward toward the door.

Kari nodded her head, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders. She quickly exited the dorm room and headed left down the long stairs toward the heavy wooden doors that separated the dungeons from the rest of the castle. It only took a few minutes before her diminuitive frame stood before a leather clad guard. He looked down at her and the pushed open the dungeon doors.

Kari knew that the other slave girls told stories of being called to the dungeon to help torture the Sorceress’ prisoners, or worse, to be tortured them selves. As the doors opened Kari drew in a startled gasp as she heard several cries and then a piercing scream resounding through the torch lit hall. More wooden doors stretched down the sides of the hall.

She paused upon the threshold and the guard behind her raised his hand and brought it smashing into her bottom. She squealed at the unexpected blow and turn toward him, clutching her buttocks.

“Get on there, girl.” The guard ordered.

Kari nodded and again faced the corridor. She began walking, looking at each door. These first were all colored blue with odd symbols painted upon each door. Every once in a while she could hear crying. Over twenty of these doors lined both sides of the hall and she suddenly found an intersection. The blue doors continued on, while to the left a red door was set in an alcove. To the right a yellow door faced it.

Suddenly Kari heard a girl’s cry of distress and she faced the yellow door. She noticed a keyhole and she quickly put her eye to the hole to see into the room. Inside, one of the other slave girls she hadn’t met before was impaled upon a phallus attached to a slanted bench while a leather clad man took a greased plug and was trying to push it into the girl’s bottom. The girl resisted and the man took a mallet and began striking the plug, ignoring the girl’s cries, until it penetrated her completely. Kari gasped as she imagined the huge intrusion. The man then took a leather strap and began whipping the impaled girl as she bounced upon the bench. Kari watched intently until she felt a rough hand on her shoulder.

“I believe you were ordered to the Red Room, little one.” Said the voice of a man as Kari felt herself turned. She looked up into the brown eyes of a kindly looking man who smiled pleasantly down at her. Kari’s eyes teared and she nodded.

“Well, come with me please.” He said, pulling her forward across the hall.

Kari let the man guide her toward the red door and flinched slightly as it opened. The room was well lit and very warm and she saw two tables on small wheels against the wall. Each table was covered with a blanket that concealed the contents, making small bumps and ridges under the cotton.

As Kari was pulled into the room, she turned to her left and saw a bench. At one end a cross bar had been mounted, making it look like an inverted letter “T”. It was well padded, and she noticed that some sort of winch had been mounted in the center of the cross bar.
The kindly man led her to the bench and then turned her to face him.

“Now Kari, you won’t need your smock. Please take it off. Or would you like me to do it for you?” He asked politely.

Kari shook her head and reached to her neck to untie the top strings of her smock. As they came loose the cloth covering her breasts fell, baring her smooth white globes. A few red lines still stretched across them, a reminder of the whipping she had endured earlier. Her fingers snagged the ties of her waist and in moments her smock fell to the ground.

The man smiled at her and reached out, running his fingers gently down her neck and chest to cup her breast. His thumb grazed her nipple and Kari felt herself quickening in her loins. He suddenly bent and suckled it, his tongue stroking the small nub as it hardened in his mouth and Kari moaned in pleasure, wrapping her arms around the man’s shoulders to hold him.
Suddenly he released her, pulling her arms from around him and he led her to the bench.

“Lay down, please.” He said.

Kari lay down on the small bench with her feet down by the cross bar. She folded her arms over her stomach as the kind looking man went to her ankles. His smooth fingers rubbed the arches of her feet and Kari mewed with pleasure. She closed her eyes as he continued to rub her. She heard a clanking and opened her eyes again to see him holding a padded iron cuff attached to a chain. As one hand held and stroked her foot, the other placed the cuff around her ankle. She felt her foot gently dropped and he repeated the process with her other ankle.

He reached down to the center of the cross bar and she heard him begin to crank the winch. As he did, the chains holding her ankles began to tighten and she felt her legs begin to spread to the far corners of the cross bar. As the winch pulled her legs farther and farther apart, she began sliding downward toward the cross bar until her legs were splayed almost split. Her wet pink slit was only an inch from the edge of the bench and she gasped as the man ran his finger through the soft flesh.

He then came around the bench and pulled her hands over her head. More shackles surrounded her wrists and she felt herself pulled taut. She could barely move with all of her body exposed. As soon as she was bound tight the man again ran his hands over her body, rubbing her sensitive nipples and then sliding his fingers deep into her sex.

She shivered at his touch and felt herself ripening wetly to his tender penetration. She moaned loudly and then gasped as he found her nub and pushed against it with his knuckle.

“There, there little one. It’s all right.” The man said as she tried to push up against him.

Kari closed her eyes and concentrated on the feelings coming from her sex. Waves of pleasure washed over and over her as his finger delved deep down. The taut stretching of her legs, spread wide apart only added to the intense ecxtasy of his touch. It became more than she could control and she felt her body shudder under the light orgasm.

The sound of the heavy wooden door echoed through the room and she opened her eyes to see a second man enter the room. His dark heavy eyebrows narrowed when he saw the first man.

“Barac, you know that you shouldn’t play with the girls before the torture begins.” Said the man who just entered.

“I know, Jorge. But this one was so cute and pliant and willing, I just couldn’t help myself.” Said Barak, who continued to pump his finger into Kari, eliciting moans.

“Well, let’s get started.” Said Jorge. He walked over to the first cloth covered table and wheeled it over to Barak.

“Since you’ve already started between her legs you might as well handle that part.” Jorge said. He moved back to the second cart and rolled it up next to Kari’s head.

Kari turned her head to watch as Jorge pulled the cloth from the cart. It was too tall however to give her more than a glance at several silver colored instruments and she glanced down her supine body to see Barak pull the cloth off with his free hand. She moaned as her pulled his finger from her body.

Barak began to speak to her softly. “Now little one, we are going to bring you to new heights of awarness in a moment. But first, I have to insert one of the Sorceress’ little toys into your body. It will be cold for just a second, at least at first. It will change temperature, size, texture, and will even move in your depths. There will be nothing you can do to control it except to control your own body’s responses to what we are doing to you. It will sense, with magic, what it will take to make your body reach those new levels of awareness I spoke off.”

Jorge grunted. “Awareness? Hogwash. We’re going to torture her, Barak. Sexually torture her. You know that’s where the Lady gets her power. Don’t mince words. Besides, these little girls would rather us tell the truth. He reached out and cruelly twisted one of Kari’s nipples.

“Wouldn’t you, girl?”

Kari cried out as pain radiated out from her tender nub. As her cry echoed through the room she felt the folds of her sex part and a hard round shaped object was pushed deep into her sex. Instantly she felt it begin to vibrate and shake and solid intense jolts of pleasure raced up through her, combining with the twisting pain of her breast and smashing against her like a tsunami. She screamed as she peaked, gasping and thrashing. The two men paused in surprise.

“Incredible. She’s multiorgasmic.” Said Barak with approval.

“Yes. It means we can take our time.” Jorge nodded. He picked up a sharply spiked wheel and brought it down to her breasts with a look of glee.

Assignment 07-19-10

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Does Humiliation Turn You On?

One of the most impressive forums for the BDSM Community is Hellfire Caves, a distinct group which I am privileged to belong to. Normally, I don't post non-fiction on my blog. To be honest, Michael Alexander Stories is supposed to be about exactly that: stories. Whether fact or fiction, the threads posted here are intended to titillate and excite. However, recently I came across an incredible little essay by one of the regular contributors at Hellfire Caves: mandy. Considering the wide range of perversions that are found in my stories, not to mention the depraved assignments of our very own nympho humiliation pain slut Breanne, I thought that this exploration of one of those aspects of submission was not only applicable, but perfect for my readers. (I think Breanne will enjoy reading this!) It also helps that mandy has a gift for bringing to mind the various aspects of the issue logically and with a sub's distinct perspective.

"Does Humiliation Turn You On?" Posted with permission from mandy.

Embarrassment ~ the act of causing confusion and shame; of making uncomfortably self-conscious Humiliation ~ the act of causing a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; to mortify Dehumanize ~ to deprive of human qualities or attributes; to divest of individuality Objectification ~ to present or regard as an object

How do you perceive the differences between embarrassment, humiliation, dehumanation, and objectification from the standpoint of a kinky/bdsm relationship? Do you bring any of these into your relationship and in what way? Has your idea of what is embarrassing or humiliating changed? How does it affect your relationship ~ do you feel differently toward your partner after a scene/playtime involving any one of these activities?

For me I have said I'm not into humiliation, yet 2 years ago the idea of being a doggie in a cage would have been completely humiliating. Now it is a thrill to be called his pet, to be told to bark, and the idea of being caged makes me wet in a minute. I'm not sure when humiliation turned into embarrassment, or even when the idea of what is embarrassing started to turn me on. There are many degrees of humiliation from being pushed to do something outside our comfort zone to face slapping, spitting and being peed on.

While being a "doggiegirl" has me doing some doggie tricks, wearing a collar and leash and even a lovely butt-tail, never have I thought of it as dehumanizing, which to me is a psychological mind fuck, leaving the person feeling worthless. Dehumanization can be dangerous to those who are not confident enough in their own skin.

Objectification can be taken in two different directions ~ 1. I have heard of the sub being a table or piece of furniture for the dominant (something I have never tried as it doesn't interest me atm) or 2. Being a sexual object such as a fuck-toy. Objectification is more of a fantasy idea and can go anywhere the imagination and willingness of both partners enjoy.

Does it make a relationship stronger? ~ I'd have to say each one takes a large degree of trust ~ and knowing your partner well. Communication as always is a key point. For myself, after a scene that is embarrassing/humiliating, I need to be assured that Mac enjoyed it too, that he was happy and proud of his subbie, and in doing so I think it does bring us closer. I will admit that there are times I think back to what we have done and it still causes a full body blush.

How can our partners determine how far to push ~ when the line has been crossed? I think it of course depends on the two people involved and knowing what each other expects and wants out of the play/scene. For me the embarrassment is a sign of submission, wanting him to take me a little further than before. And while I say humiliation/dehumanization/objectification is not for me I can't judge what works for someone else, what fulfills each one of us is about as different as the way we look.