I will probably die soon, suffocating in my mistress’s pussy. She will die also, gagged on my penis. She took a game too far and we both are suffering the consequences. Years ago, it started when she began to dominate me, her desire all along. Little steps like handcuffs, blindfolds. She moved onto role-playing, and soon I was her lesbian lover, dressed in high heels and corsets, bound in stockings and wigs and leather.
This last year I graduated into being her constant slave, locked into chastity belts and butt plugs underneath my clothing at work, changing into a maid’s outfit every night, helpless to resist both from my submissiveness and the pictures she had stashed away on a server somewhere, pictures that would surely end my employment and cause me no end of misery. So I was caught and bagged, forced into ever smaller corsets and shrinking food intake to whittle my waist, locked into higher heels and tighter skirts to impede my walking, forced to dress and accompany her to the malls for humiliating episodes of shopping for bras and panties.
I wanted out of the long hours spent forcibly giving her oral sex while I struggled to breathe, arms tightly bound behind me, the floggings that went on forever. But I was trapped. The one night I did manage to escape, she barged into my apartment using a key she had copied at some time, and overpowered me; Sandy is 6 foot two and in very good shape, a muscular 200 pounds, while I stand 5 foot seven and now 120. I was lashed to a kitchen chair and left for a day before she returned me to my enslavement.
Shortly after that episode
she started adding latex clothing under my suits, a state that left me
sweaty and overheated by the time I returned home each evening, then willing
to do anything she commanded just to get out of those overly tight bras
and panties and stockings and corsets. But once freed and cleaned
up she had me redress to her whim of the evening and the punishment and
humiliation would continue, suffocating oral sex, ass ripped by her strap
on dildo most nights, then left bound on the living room floor after being
forced to shave all my body hair, trying to sleep while she retired to
her bedroom. This was my life, until tonight, probably my, and her,
It was a Friday night, I arrived home and took off my business attire, and made the same everyday plea, “Please, Mistress Sandra, unlock the chain around my waist so I can take off this rubber catsuit and clean myself for you.”
Often she would unlock it without a word, but tonight she said, “When you are finished showering, give yourself a good enema; I have a surprise for you.”
I hate her surprises. They usually meant pain or humiliation, at best, but I did exactly as I was told. When I returned from the bathroom, she had laid out a French Maid’s outfit with thigh high fishnets and locking 5 inch heeled black pumps, well padded falsies, and a gaffe to cover my privates, latex panties and shoulder length PVC gloves, and a latex hood with mouth, nose, and very small eye holes, as well as a hole for a fake ponytail in back. She often liked to turn me into her lesbian latex tongue slave, so none of these prepared me for what was to happen that night.
She started by cinching me into a strict leather waist cincher, then ordered me to finish. Once done, it was impossible to tell I was not a woman. She now returned in a very short skirt and leather bra, high-heeled boots, and her favorite armbinder, which she quickly pulled over my arms and tightened around my waist. I was instantly helpless. Looking at the mirror in the hall, I saw a slutty French Maid, a woman’s body locked into high heels staring back at me, covered in rubber and satin and leather and fishnet, no possibility of escape. I shuddered at my plight.
“We have company tonight”, she whispered, or so it seemed to me, but it was hard to tell from inside the rubber hood. “And I have a new activity for you,” she added.
I could sense her behind me, then felt a ring gag being forced into my mouth. At the same time, the doorbell rang.
“Coming”, she yelled, finishing the knot at the nape of my neck.
“Hello gorgeous,” I heard, a deep male voice greeting my mistress, “Is that the little slut that you have to punish?”
“That’s her”, she affirmed, “And she’s all prepared for us.”
Sandra strolled over, followed by a tall, black-haired man in a tank top pullover stretched over a pretty good physique. The small eyeholes prevented me from seeing very much detail. He sat on the couch and I was pushed, face first, into his lap.
“Blow him”, she ordered, “and make it good; Mike earned a little favor from me this week.”
“Mike”, unzipped, and soon I was forced to suck his member hard, through the ring gag, choking and gasping all the time. I couldn’t believe my revulsion and helplessness at the time. Sandra succeeded in putting me at an all time low.
As “Mike” was getting into it, grabbing my ass, spanking it, shoving down my head, I heard Sandra say, “Why don’t you screw her in the ass?”
I couldn’t believe it. I mmphed over his dick but somehow knew I’d be taken by this man, and he was being taken by her.
“Now you’re talking”, he agreed. “Roll over, bitch”, he commanded.
“Not so fast”, Sandra interrupted. “I need a little attention here, too.”
She undid my ring gag and then proceeded to put on me her devilish double belt. This was her little device, a belt around my chest connected by webbed leather to another belt that would be buckled around her waist after she sat on my face. Leaning forward, my head would be drawn tightly into her pussy and, if she chose to, she could tighten her cheek muscles and suffocate me. I spent many hours struggling against that webbing which was not rounded out by stress to completely immobilize me in position. After cinching me in, she crossed my ankles and lashed them together and rolled me on my back like an overturned turtle.
“You just slide in between her legs and while I sit and watch.”
That said, she surrounded my head with her thighs and sat, heavily while buckling up the belt around her waist. Mike pulled up my ankles, put his legs through, and slid his dick up my ass. I was satisfying two and getting suffocated in the process, helplessly used.
Mike violently finished inside me while Sandra squirmed in delight while chanting “my worthless slave”. My legs up over his back, arms pinned behind me, thighs holding my head, I was hoping to pass out and save me from psyche meltdown. Then Mike pulled out and sat astride us.
“Well, did you like fucking my little slave?” she asked. “He deserves the punishment.”
“HE? What do you mean HE?” Mike exploded.
“I mean her”, Sandra hastily added.
Mike ripped the gaffe off my crotch and I heard the sound of a strong slap that rocked the body covering my face. Then another.
“You stinking, perverted bitch”, he yelled.
I next heard the sound off handcuffs clicking as Sandra cried, “No, I’m sorry, you had fun, didn’t you?”
“Just shut” he answered, and then were muffled sounds as, I was soon to find out, he forced the ring gag into her mouth and tied it. Then something was tied around the base of my balls and her body was pushed down on mine.
“Suck it in, bitch”, he growled, and when that was done, the cord around my member was tied behind her head. The webbing that held in her crotch was loosened enough so I could at least struggle and get some air from time to time. So there we were, gagging each other, able to move hardly at all. Mike was rummaging around Sandra’s toy bag and pulled out something.
When it started being screwed up my ass, I knew it was a plastic coated auger from a meat grinder that I had laboriously ground off the tip and plasticized at Sandra’s behest. A steel ring was welded on the end, and handcuffs linked to it. Several times I had been augered and shackled, and since it could only be removed by screwing it out, I was cuffed to my asshole. He then undid Sandra’s handcuffs and wrapped her arms around my legs, shackling her to the auger. My ankles were unbound momentarily, then my left was pulled up over her head and a leather cuff added, a line then run to the chain on Sandra’s right boot, pulled taut and tied off. The same was done with my right ankle to her left boot. Finally, I could feel the sideways pressure on my head increase as he roped her ankles together.
“You’ll both die slowly for this, you perverts”, he said, “either when he gets hard or too tired to pull his head back to breathe, or when you gag on his dick and rip up his asshole, or one of you loses control of your bladder, drowning the other in a pool of urine. Have a nice day.”
That said, I heard the door close, then silence. We both stayed very still except for my struggling to breathe. Then, once Sandra realized she was going to die, she thrashed against her bonds wildly, pulling on the auger buried in my ass, moving her weight from one knee to the other. After about ten minutes of agony for me, she knew she was hopelessly bound to me, and that we were, indeed, dying slowly. The combined weight of our bodies was crushing my hands in the armbinder. She was futilely trying to move my penis out of her mouth with her tongue, her hot breath rhythmically blowing over my ball sac was actually exciting me which would soon lead to her death struggles that would suffocate me or end up by my bleeding to death from a ruptured intestine, and if she lived long enough, my legs, wrapped around her head in stiff rigor mortis would imprison her until she died from thirst and starvation. After an hour or an eternity, there was a knock on the door.
“Sandra, it’s me, Betsy, you there?”
We both prayed the
door was unlocked...