Because She Loves Me

Prolog

If you don’t really care about knowing the back-story to why this all occurred, just skip to Chapter 1 where the action starts, however, if you want to understand the contextual circumstances of why my wife did this to me you might want to read on.

This is a voluntary writing. You may have read one or all four of my previous journals that report on my sessions in contracted bondage servitude. They were written and published as a requirement of my masters and describe in detail the real events of strict bondage and intense sexual abuse bordering on torture I endured at their hands. What follows is also a chronicle of true events but comparatively it is of a more docile bondage play experience at the hands of my wife, given to me as a birthday present. While not severe like my other experiences, the 24 hours under my wife’s control was none-the-less exhilarating, taxing and sexually gratifying. I decided to write about it to give a contrast to my previous mandated writings. I took no notes, I don’t have her written plans and there are no extensive video tapings to review as I write this as I did with the others, just my memory and the few photos and short phone video clips my wife took to tease me. She is unaware of this writing and posting.

What she did to me was fantastic, primarily because she secretly sought and received expert help with the planning from my best friend Mike. You may already know him as Sir Michael from my secret servitude experiences outlined in the aforementioned journals of which my wife is completely unaware and that must remain so to preserve my marriage. Mike and I have been best friends since college, and she has known him since then too. Mike is gay. And of course, I am not. She knows he and I talk about all kinds of things regularly. She is certainly aware we have discussed and teased each other over the years about our individual sexual likes and dislikes including my bondage fetish, his gay conquests, even our cock sizes. The strange thing is the two of them have chatted about those kinds of things too. While she would never talk about sex with any other man, she is at ease and has fun talking with him. They share stories, have compared notes and tips on blow jobs, he has even sent her a photo of his dick. That story alone would take a couple of paragraphs. So, yes, they are comfortable with each other. And I am fine with it; Mike is completely non-threatening from a romantic relationship concern.

So, she ironically went to him asking for bondage play ideas oblivious to Mike’s and my recently shared BDSM experiences. Agreeing to help, he then collaborated with another player from those adventures, a person I know as Dr. D, a more villainous practitioner of BDSM. Dr. D’s mate and part-time submissive also helped along with a few of the other masters I have come to know from Las Vegas. Their proposals were the foundation of what she did to me. Their suggestions of bondage positions and games included things that she would never have thought of on her own and certainly not have wanted to try. She did so due to their good-natured coaxing and because Mike assured her that fulfillment of such fantasy play would make me happy, maybe even euphoric. And so, with their guidance and support she did put me into bondage, being much more adventurous and daring in her actions than she could have contrived and contributed in on her own. She even had some fun doing it.

I’m not thrilled that my other writings are posted on the web as I feel they shame me and reveal things I’m embarrassed to have performed and/or allowed to be done to me. Nonetheless, I recommend you read them, at least the first one, ‘Eight Days in a Bondage Contract’ to give yourself a much better understanding of my venture into the BDSM world as a submissive. My assuming a subservient role that includes bondage and abuse eases stress related to my normal Type A personality. However, note that the journals are long, so if you don’t have the time or simply prefer a quick read, then I’ll give you this short synopsis of my bondage fetish in lieu of searching them out.

I have had thoughts of bondage since I was young. As an adult those thoughts have grown into various fantasies of putting females into sexual bondage. I equally fantasize about the reverse; being bound and sexually used by women. But being very happily married, I would only want to fulfil these dreams with my wife.

Trouble is, my wife isn’t into bondage fantasies. When we were first married, she did her best to let me tie her up with ropes or leather, but her body language and facial expressions openly displayed her lack of enjoyment from bondage play, especially if I made it tight or playfully used a paddle or riding crop on her. Because I loved her, these expressions would distress me and ruin the scene for both of us. So, we switched to her doing me. That was fine, but she wasn’t very adventurous and still got no sexual gratification from the play. This would again lead to an unfulfilled event for me. But she did try, which I was always grateful for, but I would remain frustrated. And she knew it.

BTW, we otherwise have an active normal and adventurous sex life that we both enjoy, a lot and often.

But, for the most part, for years I have had a sex life without much bondage play which I miss, and wish was different. However, about once a year my dear wife will, out of her love for me, offer to bind me up in various ways and then sexually play with me trying her best to please me. Simple bondage with sex, nothing challenging or dominating. We do have a trunk full of bondage toys collected over the years but most of them go unused when she plays with me. This play usually occurs around my birthday as a gift to me (shopping for me is hard). This playtime sometimes goes on for as long as two to three hours, a real strain for her. A couple of times she even surprised me with an extra session at Christmas. I am very appreciative of this, and I let her know she is special. Afterwards, though, I notice she always feels melancholy, thinking that she has failed me. Or it may be from something else related to the play, I was never quite sure, and she didn’t share.

My infatuation with bondage doesn’t bother her, but she didn’t really understand the lure of it either, but Mike might. That led to her initial phone call to him and their subsequent collaboration. She told him she really wanted to go all out to make this birthday extra special. Binding and having sex with me were going to be her only gift. She just was at a loss of how to make it exciting and fresh for me. And she didn’t want to ask me as she hoped to keep much of it a surprise. Mike certainly came through for her while fully keeping my confidentiality of past shared transgressions. He knew all about my bondage fantasies, desires, likes, dislikes, my sexual use and punishment when bound and my need for short periods of servitude as a release method for the high stress I endure from the job, and life, for that matter. He is a smart guy and was able to coach her without providing even a hint of how he knew such things other than from our long-term friendship, our regular phone conversations and his own experiences. What they discussed, planned, and she executed follows.

Chapter 1: Birthday Surprise

It is Saturday morning, the day before my birthday. I am ‘sleeping in’ after another typical high stress week of work. I am the COO of a successful large metal fabrication business having numerous plants with substantial contracts both in the military and industrial manufacturing fields. It’s a great job; it’s a demanding job. I am still asleep, dressed in my pajama bottoms and nothing else, typical for me, when I am awakened by my wife fussing with my right wrist. I feel her pressing something hard against it when I hear the distinctive clicking sound of a handcuff being secured to my wrist. I am lying on my side, and she quickly straddles herself over my hip. She pulls on my other arm, partially rolling me onto my stomach as she says quietly, mischievously, but with intent, “Don’t fight me, behave, or your balls will regret it.” And with that she snaps the second cuff onto my left wrist, so that my arms are secured behind my back. My 24 hours have started.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers in my ear. “I think you’ll enjoy your present. I have been working on it for some time. I got some help along the way from Mike and some of his friends. I hope you’ll be ok with that, but if not, what can I tell you, what’s done is done. You’re in for a long day and night, but then, it’s what you said you wanted when I asked, remember?” I gulp at the mention of Mike’s participation, then I just lay there, with a tiny bit of anxiety and apprehension countered with a measure of anticipation and a growing smile. Bondage play is what I said I wanted. And I really do want it. She then nonchalantly snapped my matching leg irons around my two ankles. These Smith & Wesson steel cuffs are part of my personal collection of bondage toys that I keep locked in a trunk under our bed. She knows where the key is hidden.

“Can I go pee?” I ask.

“No, hold it, we are headed downstairs in a minute.” She then adds, “Now, I do not want you to speak unless I ask you a question. If you fail at that I will gag you. When I do want an answer from you, you’ll know it and then you are to address me as Ma'am, as in ‘Yes, Ma’am’ or ‘No, Ma’am’. Keep it short, sweet and obedient. Today you will be my personal bondage toy, so I will call you ‘Toy’. Just like my other sex toys, you are only here to pleasure me. When not doing that, you will be just there waiting for me, bound and waiting. Tight, like you love it, and waiting, just waiting, going nowhere. My bondage toy.” A long answer to my simple question asking to relieve myself. Wow, this is so different than when we have played before, her always waiting for instructions, hesitating, overthinking the playtime. She has been talking to Mike or reading or something. This character change is exciting. My optimism for the day builds quickly.

She untangles me from my bed sheet and blanket, sits me up, then puts a leather dog collar around my neck and affixes a leash. I notice she is still in her nightgown. She finishes with a makeshift blindfold, using a black Ace bandage wrapped around my head multiple times with the end tucked in behind. She pulls the leash, and I slide off the bed onto my feet. She tugs forward and I cautiously shuffle following the leash, in darkness and with my steps restricted by the ankle cuffs’ chain. Knowing my house well, I’m not having too much difficulty in keeping up with her and she is not rushing. We get to the stairs. She assists me as I tentatively begin the process of navigating down one step at a time. Now on the first floor we move around to the stairs heading to our finished lower level. This floor is below grade from the front of the house but due to the sloping terrain is at ground level in the back, making this a walk-out floor that leads to our large backyard, patio and pool.

I’m now curious as to where our destination is. Turns out we are headed to the downstairs guest suite. Our finished basement has two parts, my large workshop and the remainder a sort of an in-law suite comprising a bedroom, bathroom, sitting area and small kitchenette. We primarily use this area as a second bathhouse for the pool and staging area for outside party picnics. It will have another use today.

I am guided into the bedroom and backed up to the bed. She drops my PJs, making a point to fondle my now exposed penis which while not yet fully erect has shown interest in what is happening. “Open your mouth and swallow these” she says as she puts some pills into my mouth and gives me sips of water to get them down. “They are your morning meds, with a little kicker. They are a birthday gift from Mike. He assures me they will not harm you, only help you stay hard for the duration.” And she giggles. As I said before, she seems like she is having some fun with this. I certainly am and I’m delighted that it appears she is too. It turns out that Mike has shipped her a few items to use for this playdate. The gift box includes this serving of two 20 mgs tabs of Tadalafil, the generic form of Cialis. A double dose. They were part of my daily routine when I was submissive to Sir Michael and Dr. D out West. They will be again today.

With that finished, I am pushed backwards, and I fall onto the bed. I immediately noticed that I am not lying on the normal bedspread or cotton bedsheets, but a somewhat taught cold plastic sheeting now pressing against my naked body. She maneuvers me around so that I am in the middle of the bed. I am uncomfortable due to my hands trapped behind my back. “Hey, how about the trip to the bathroom?" I mutter.

“You don’t listen well, Toy. I will gag you if you don’t keep quiet. You’ll just have to hold it or have an accident, your choice.”

“Yes ma’am,” I answer, timidly. I chose to hold it. I then feel her push the leg irons up my leg as she puts on nylon web cuffs secured by Velcro around my ankles. These are good quality cuffs that are very secure, taken from our collection of toys. She instructs me to behave while she unlocks and removes the irons, pulls my dropped PJs free, and then spreads my legs and secures them wide and tight to the corner posts of the bed. Yanking on my leash and collar I am pulled into a sitting position so she can remove the handcuffs. That is a relief. I am then pushed back down. My right hand is pulled so that it is perpendicular to my body. A matching cuff is put on my wrist, and it is tightly secured to the side bed rail. This is repeated with the left hand. The collar and leash are removed. I am now spread wide. She has made an effort to stretch and pull my limbs taut. Again, out of character from her past; it’s wonderful.

A few moments pass when I feel her climbing onto the bed. And then onto me. She too is now naked. I can’t see her, but she feels fantastic lying on top of me. She is wiggling to excite me as she passionately begins to kiss me. I am instantly aroused, my dick hard. I kiss back with passion and try to thrust my middle up against her. This goes on for a few minutes when she stops suddenly and announces that my body is unacceptable and she must fix it.

Chapter 2: Shaved

“You always want my privates shaved. Only seems fair that I get to rub against smooth skin too,” she says.

My wife has for years kept her pussy area shaved smooth as it is another huge turn on for me. I just don’t like bushes on women. Maybe it’s an innocence thing, maybe a bondage thing, maybe an attractiveness thing, I don’t know but I love her shaved. It is now going to be my turn. And I’m sure Mike and friends have their hands in it. Sir Michael and I have a detailed submissive contract between us for when we role-played. It included a list of hard limits and one of them was that I couldn’t be shaved. It was there because if I returned home from my trips out West with my privates shaved, huge questions and suspicions would be raised. This seemed to be payback for limiting the gang’s fun as they abused me.

She comes back to the bed set to strip me of one of my masculine features. She starts with my limbs. I remain blindfolded so this will be a sensory arousal. It became obvious that this will be a complete body shave as I feel shaving cream being applied to my toes. Not much hair on one’s toes but it is there, and she carefully removes it with what feels like a disposable razor. She then wipes it clean with a warm wet rag, removing the residual hair and cream. It is then up the top of the foot and ankle.

A command is barked out, “Behave!” as she releases the Velcro on the ankle cuff, shaves beneath it, wipes the skin, and then resecures the cuff. I get the use of the nylon cuffs now; she is using ample amounts of water and shaving cream to do the job. These cuffs are more resistant to wetness. Plus, they go on and off easier. Efficiently she moves up the shin and calf, knee and thigh. She is good at this as she does her own legs every day or two when she showers. She is an expert and while I have mixed feelings on what is being done, I am not fearful of being cut.

It takes a while to do both legs, but she is now at my privates. And now I am a little tense. That doesn’t slow her down, but her methods change and become more devious. She apparently has been in my toy box again as she has a Jennings dental gag in hand. I’m unaware until she tells me to open my mouth wide and I feel her slip it behind my teeth and ratchet it open. “See, not so comfortable, is it?” she snickers amusingly. This has been in the toy box for years and it was during one of the last sessions with her being bound that I tried my new toy on her. With it on I then tried to face fuck her with it which she strongly objected, and that sadly for me ended that session. Funny how it clearly came back to me now, and she was going to get her revenge, even though it was going to be playful. I don’t believe it’s been weighing on her mind all these years. What I do think is that this is a Mike-generated idea because after the original event happened, I remember telling Mike about it. Odds are he reminded her and suggested retribution.

She now has scissors, and she begins to cut away my ample curly hairs around my cock. She needs to put the clumps somewhere, my mouth being her chosen receptacle. It was a creepy, unpleasant feeling in the mouth and on the tongue but bound and mouth held open there is nothing I can do to resist. Though blindfolded, I squeezed my eyes closed, kept my tongue pressed against the base of my mouth, breathed through my nose and concentrated on not swallowing. She continues cutting away and making her deposits till most of my curls are gone. She then announces that the hair in my mouth is grossing her out and she climbs on my chest and begins to fish the hair back out with her fingers. She then rinses her rag out in her bowl of warm water and tries to wipe my tongue clean. The gag is released; she makes more swipes to clear what’s left. Maybe she got all the hair out, but psychologically, she didn’t, my tongue kept sweeping my mouth trying to clear the phantom hairs left behind.

It’s now back to razor work. But she isn’t using a disposable razor, she is using a much more effective (and dangerous) straight razor. A straight razor, some skill, and lots of shaving cream; thankfully. She is going very slow, being very careful, and very thorough, making sure every hair is gone from below and around my penis. Then it is onto those few hairs on my cock. She fondles and strokes my member in her hand using the shaving cream making sure it is very hard and erect before she goes after the hair with the sharp edge of the blade. She is meticulous and deliberate in her actions. I am tense, my body is rigid as my dick, and I am holding my breath for as long as I can. I am relieved when she wipes me clean with her rag, but upon inspection, she finds a few stragglers left behind and does a follow up clean up with the razor and no cream.

Next up the ball sack. Most difficult to do because the bag is not rigid, so it must be made taught by her pulling on it. It is also not smooth as the hair on the bag produces small bumps making for more delicate hair removal. It feels like she applied just a light coating of shaving cream and then removed most of that with her hand to just make the sack slippery without blocking her vision. She is being more tender and careful then when my ball sack was shaved in Vegas by Dr. D’s sub. They shaved my balls because they knew hair removal there would not be noticed. Again, it took a couple of tries till she was satisfied that I was hair free.

Still not done with my private areas, she needs butt crack access. My ankle cuffs were released from the bed posts, and my legs were lifted and swiveled up over my head and the cuffs were re-secured to the headboard corner posts. I was now doubled over with my butt up in the air, legs spread wide making my butt crack fully accessible for a close shave. Still using the straight razor, she made quick work of it, then wiping the cream and cut hairs away with her rag. “A shame to waste such a fun position,” exclaims my bride. She takes a break from her shaving task and takes some time to play with me.

We both enjoy anal play in our normal sexcapades. I am at her mercy for what she wants now. It’s ‘balls on a string’ that she decides on. And with a little lube, five plastic three-quarter-inch balls, spaced apart on a string, are pushed into my exposed rectum. I have no problem as she pushes them in. She lets them stay for a bit as she announces her need to pee and goes to use the bathroom and I ponder on how much I need to go too. She returns to pull them out. Slowly, letting them ‘pop’ out one at a time as she keeps tension on the pull string. A very erotic and enjoyable feeling. In bondage even better. This type of play is so different from my BDSM bondage sessions with the boys. Both are good.

She is not done with my butt. I own a collection of Lovense Hush vibrating butt plugs, one in each size. They make them in girth sizes of 1”, 1.5”, 1.75” and the biggest at 2.25”. My wife enjoys and can handle the 1” plug. I use the 1.5” plug most of the time when we are playing with the toys. If we are having a really adventurous night, I will use the 1.75”. The 2.25”, well that is a lot to handle, very painful going in and is uncomfortable once it is there. So that means it gets used when the boys have me in bondage and are abusing me. One of its neat features is that its rechargeable battery will last up to eleven hours.

My wife slips up the Ace bandage from my eyes and shows me the two largest plugs, one in each hand. “So, which one do you want? Oh wait, I was told this is my decision, I’m the Mistress. You’ll take the big one, you know you want it. Mike tells me the battery will last 11 hours, so we are going to see if he is right.” She wasn’t kidding about her selection or the duration she planned.

My eyes are returned to darkness. The anal assault begins. This is so out of character for her. She doesn’t like it when she thinks she is hurting me. It is one of the reasons she hasn’t done a lot of daring things to me on previous birthday ventures. Mike has convinced her that this kind of play is what I really want. Well, that’s debatable. She turns the plug on, which is a help in inserting it. She has lubed it and is now lubing me. I can feel the vibrating tip at my hole. She pushes in a bit, retracts, pushes forward again. I do what I can to relax and accept the intrusion. That works till it’s about three-quarters in and that is where it starts to hurt, a lot. I wince.

She apparently has a rehearsed plan and words to say for this point. She massages the skin around the plug and then with her other hand tightly grips the outside of the plug, turns the vibration up another level, retracts the plug just slightly and then with a twisting forceful motion, pushes and screws the plug quickly the rest of the way in, while saying “Take it you Cunt, don’t be a Pussy! You know you want it.” (Words I assure you that don’t come natural for this Southern Belle.) She delivered the insertion just like the pros in Vegas did to me. I cry out in anguish but quickly try to contain it as I don’t want her to freak out and back off. She had been told that I would have a moment of significant pain but ‘guys’ enjoy and want this (what a fib they fed her). She was told to counter both our reactions with something sexual. So, she immediately climbs between my spread open legs, pushing her pussy against my dick as she passionately open-mouth kisses me. She begins to lick my face and then says, “Hey you’ve got whiskers, we better get back to your shave.” And I am dismounted.

She takes a moment to set the plug to one of our archived Lovense programs kept on our phones. My butt begins to dance, forgetting the painful entrance it had made just a few minutes ago. My legs are released from over my head and re-secured to the more comfortable position of spread to the foot posts. I’m not sure if the plug is anymore comfortable in this position. It continues to vibrate away in my overstuffed and stretched hole.

I don’t have an overly hairy chest, just like the rest of me. She goes back to using the package razor except when she is doing my pits and around my nipples, I think mainly for effect. What is different now is that she has mounted me and placed her moist vagina over my mouth. I’m told to pleasure her. I love this. During regular sex with her it’s my favorite thing. Even more than intercourse. Doing it to her while bound is just out of this world. Happy Birthday to me! However, she is shaving me while we are doing this. She is trying to concentrate on shaving and safety. I’m good at licking pussy. She likes her pussy being licked. That causes danger. No nicks while she was doing my legs and privates, but she got me at least twice while I was servicing her. I think it was once with both types of razors. She did blurt out “Sorry” when it would happen. As she would get excited, she would also push her pussy tight against my face, cutting off my air. I’m not sure if it was on purpose or not, but we were having some intense breath play going on for a bit. One of the best times of a perfect day.

She finished up with a face shave, the first time in my life someone else has done that. No, I’ve never gotten a shave at the barber.

Chapter 3: The Morning Continues

I am left on the bed tied tight, my butt being vibrated with intensity, it’s a good vibrating program she has chosen. She returns a little bit later with a fresh bowl of warm water and rag. She then thoroughly gives me a drippy, refreshing sponge bath. I guess you would actually call it a rag bath. I now understand the plastic sheet on which I lay. First the ample shaving cream, now the bath. She’s protecting the bed from the mess I’m part of. She returns to put the finishing touch on her full body shave. Aqua Velva. A splash on the face after a shave is a long-standing man’s tradition. An application on freshly shaved balls, legs and chest produces a whole-body burning tingle that is a notch too high on the pain side of pain pleasure.

“Does my Birthday Toy want some Brunch?” I am asked.

“Yes Ma’am.” I am left for a good half hour. The Aqua Velva sting was long gone by the time she returned. She spends a few more minutes fussing around and then I feel her climbing onto the bed. She straddles my head, pressing her snatch down onto my mouth and commands me to eat her out. What is in her pussy begins to leak out and I discern the distinct taste of yogurt. Specifically honey flavored yogurt of the Greek variety. She moves her pussy up and down my face as a very full vagina releases globs of goo into my mouth. Kinky girl. It tastes good but based on how it’s being fed to me reminds me of being forced to swallow cum, which does not taste ‘good’. This goes on for a good five minutes till she thinks that gravity and my licking has emptied her, and she dismounts.

She climbs off only for a moment or two and then remounts me facing the opposite direction and squats down on my face again, this time so I am more aligned with her butt hole. I can tell my second course instantly as peanut butter has a distinct smell. She has put globs of it along her crack and is sliding up and down my face. I open my mouth wide and just lay out my tongue as she does most of the work feeding me. I hear her say ‘protein’. I guess she is looking out for my nutrition. I think I have wiped her clean and she seems to have reached the same conclusion as I am again dismounted. I can feel peanut butter smeared up my chin, outer lips and nose. I do what I can to lick it with my tongue, but most is out of reach. She uses her tongue to finish the job. Both gross and arousing.

She then lifts my head and gives me a drink of water. It reminds me that I need to pee, but I dare not ask. It does make me uncomfortable again. I try to concentrate on my butt vibration and not my bladder pressure. She then puts ear buds into my ears and turns on music. She removes one bud and says, “I hope that’s not too loud. I’m going to take a shower and wash your Brunch dishes. I don’t want to get a yeast infection from any yogurt you left behind. I’ll be back when I’m done. So that you don’t forget about me while I’m gone, I’m going to leave you with something to remember me. She then lifts my head and slides over it a pair of her panties. As she does, she adds, “I wore this last week while I had my period. They have been in the bottom of the hamper. I specifically wore cotton ones at Mike’s suggestion so my scent would be more absorbed for you. I hope you like them; they are a little dirty, sorry about that, but what would you expect during my time of the month? By the way, so you know, not all of Mike’s and his friends’ ideas I liked. Some I said outright no, others I am still pondering. For instance, in the downstairs freezer is a used tampon from the same day that he said I should feed you as a popsicle. I’m not sure of that, it’s disgusting, but I will see how the day goes and how well you behave. Just stay where you are.”

While she was telling me all of this, she has been securing the panties so they will be tight against my face. She put a dog collar around my neck that captures the waist and then put a second tight blindfold over top of the upper legs portion, then pulls down tight the bottom, effectively securing the crotch tight against my nose and mouth. She is right, her scent is strong and my quick sweep over them with my tongue lets me know they are a bit crusty too. Arousing and a bit yucky at the same time. She puts the sound bud back in and I guess walks away as both my hearing and sight are now basically absent.

She has been gone for a long time. I’m not sure exactly how long, but I think at least an hour. She knows I like to be bound and then left, so I assume this is planned. Mike had a written plan when he did me. I guess he helped her create one too. I also know she would never abandon me in an unsafe or unsupervised situation, so I believe she is either quietly still here, or I am under the watchful eye of one of our baby monitors.

She does eventually come back. I didn’t hear her approach. She let me know her return by sucking on my dick. I was startled but pleased. I was erect in seconds. She’s good at BJs. Make that great. This time is no different and I’m afraid I’ll blow my load quickly. But she stops as soon as she feels me start to tense up, leaving me frustrated but happy at the same time.

Chapter 4: Wife’s First Try at Abusing Her Husband

“Well, you didn’t pee the bed while I was gone. I guess I’ll let you up and you can go before we start your next adventure.” I am released from the ankle cuffs, and they are replaced by leg irons again. Next off are both wrist cuffs to be replaced with the handcuffs behind my back. She pulls out the earbuds but leaves me blindfolded and filled with the vibrating plug. I am guided from the bed into the bathroom and steered to being in front of the toilet. She let me bump my shins against the rim so I would know I was there, and she told me “Go ahead, pee, don’t miss or you’ll be cleaning it up with your tongue.” This reeked of classic Dr. D shenanigans. How could I aim into the bowl and not make a mess when I am blindfolded with my hands locked behind my back?

But I desperately had to go, so I said, “Yes Ma’am, I’ll try not to miss.” I was hesitant in my start, primarily because I could feel her watching. We’ve been married for a while, but I still don’t pee in front of her, nor does she. Completing this task with bowl accuracy was nearly impossible, though I know some of my stream made it from the sound of it hitting the bowl water. I also heard and felt splashing against my legs, not good.

When I’m done, she reaches in, takes hold of my penis and shakes it. Embarrassing. She then pulls off my collar, two blindfolds and panties mask while she scolds me for the mess I have made. I glanced down as my eyes adjusted to the light and saw my urine in the bowl, but also on the rim and a bit on the tile floor. “OK, Toy, get down on your knees and lick it up!” I look at her, so out of character for her. She then adds, “It is your best friend that assured me guys that crave bondage like you also want to be treated like a submissive when they play. Blame him if it isn’t true. He was clear to tell me this is a bondage thing not a gay thing or a perverted thing, it’s very, very common. And that you would want to be forced to do it. I don’t like it, but it’s your birthday, so I’m going to make you do it so that you aren’t disappointed. So down on your knees Toy.”

It’s not easy getting down to the floor with my hands cuffed as they are but I get it done. She then guides me to the two small floor puddles and tells me to get to it. Of course, I have had previous practice at doing this that she does not know about from my trips out West. I clean it up. She then pulls my head up with my hair and pushes my face to the bowl rim. She is guiding me to all the droplets there. Licking a bowl rim causes a weird sensation and shivers to me. There is the taste, I’ve grown use to that. But what is strange is the coldness and the smoothness of the porcelain. What comes next catches me off guard. “OK, Toy now put your face into the bowl.” Again, she grasps my hair with her hand to move me forward and downward in the bowl. It makes me fall a bit forward off balance, my shoulders coming into contact with the outer rim, giving me back some stability.

“Your pee is on the insides of the bowl too.” I cleaned the toilet yesterday. I’m not going to do it again; it’s your job to clean it this time.” I am really taken back at her aggressiveness. This is not her, but she is roleplaying to make me happy. I also can tell that these are practiced lines, probably rehearsed them over the phone with my good old friend. I’ve lived through this type of contrived lines with Sir Michael at his home and in Vegas. The toilet licking is a first, even the boys haven’t made me do this. And I love it, so I obey and lick the bowl, working with the knowledge that she cleaned it yesterday. I’m completely shocked with what she does next though. She pushes my head further into the bowl till my face is pushed into the water. The water has not been flush since I peed into it. I am then commanded to: “Drink!” My natural reflex is to push back but she is holding fast. So, I think what the hell, I’ve drunk lots of piss in my BDSM contract servitude, my mind says just do it, go with what she has planned, and I take a gulp. I know it’s hard for someone to fathom why I am enjoying this, but I am. The biggest kick is that my bride is forcing me and that is so different from her personality. I hope she is getting at least some enjoyment from her personality reversal. She pulls me back so I can take a breath, I do and then I am re-dunked and told to take a second drink. I do. It tastes like my pee but very watered down. Doable. She pulls me up again, I breathe, and she pushes me even deeper into the water till my nose and chin are against the base of the bowl and she flushes the toilet. The swirling adds another new sensory sensation to my repertoire.

I’m again pulled back up and this time out of the bowl. She helps me back up to a standing position and announces that “That was disgusting, remember to thank your buddy for toasting your birthday. I’m not kissing you again till you gargle. You are going to shower first so that taste in your mouth is going to remain for a while.” I’m sent to the shower, hands still cuff behind, ankles still in leg-iron cuffs, ass still filled with a vibrating plug. True to submissive bondage form, this is a cold shower. Somebody’s been schooling her. Our shower is a large walk-in type with a handheld style shower head with an on/off knob that allows her to prewet me, wash me with a soapy rough cleansing sponge, then rinse me without getting herself wet. Just before she gives me a final rinse she brings in a small plastic cup with some Scope mouthwash. With her assistance my foul mouth is again fresh. We are done with the shower.

Chapter 5: The Start of Attic Play

“Let’s go for a walk,” she says as she grabs a hold of my cock and pulls me out of the stall. I have not been dried. The water, as I said, was cold. So, I’m shivering a bit. She says, “Where we are heading is warm so those goosebumps will soon go away. Try not to drip on my floors.” We head back up the stairs to the main floor, then down the hall to the stairs to the second floor. It’s a bit difficult with the leg irons and her pulling me by my dick the whole way. I managed to make the climb without tripping. We head down the main second floor hall and I assume we are going to the master bedroom. We are not. This house has one more set of stairs, ones that lead from the second floor to a walk-up unfinished attic. We love them because it makes easy access to where we keep storage like our Christmas decorations and tree, memorabilia, and odds and ends that we just want to keep. It is a large space and not overcrowded with too much junk. The kids used to play here when they were young. It is also the place where I bound my younger wife up twice, maybe three times, when I was still doing her and not the other way around. The open studs, beams, joists, rafters and wood floor make for good securing points. The imagery is great for my fantasies. Good times, well, for me it was. It will now be Ma’am’s play space for the next few hours. Payback time, maybe, or just a convenient place to play these games. Her and her Toy. She pulls me up the final stairs.

The attic has windows at both ends plus three dormer windows that individually project vertically from our roof looking out over our front yard. They are of traditional design and smartly sets off the look of our house. Like the rest of the attic, they are unfinished. The floor throughout is plywood, and it covers the insulation that serves the house. The attic itself is uninsulated, unheated and not air conditioned. It’s late spring so this afternoon it will be quite warm in here. We move to where the center dormer juts out. Sitting within the space I see my Black & Decker Workmate portable workbench. These sturdy tables have a nice flat worksurface with a built-in vise feature that splits the top into two when opened. It is used to hold a work piece tight as you sand, plane or in general, work on it.

She walks me up to the Workmate still guiding me by her firm hold on my dick. She maneuvers me around it and then backs me up to it and instructs me to hop up onto it. There is a step as part of its frame that will help me. I am apprehensive about this request for several reasons. First, I am standing in front of the window. There are curtains hanging there, but they are arranged to be open. Anyone looking up can see my naked body. Second, why the Workmate? What does she have planned? She gives my dick a little swat to encourage me. Climbing up is a little awkward due to the cuffs. Sitting down on the dual wood planks that make up the top work surface/vise pushes against my butt plug. I have met her request: I am sitting on the Workmate. Positioned to look out the window.

I quickly found out her purpose of lugging this tool from my shop up into the attic as she starts to rotate the two handles that adjust the vise feature. She is opening the tabletop. I watch as the platform I am sitting splits beneath me. She opens it about an inch and a half, my weight not inhibiting it at all. I now have a gap between my butt cheeks and the underside of my upper thighs. Ma’am then reaches under the bench and between the opening, searching for my ball sack which she quickly finds. She pulls it down, stretching it to its limit while keeping my jewels in the bottom of their bag. She then slowly and carefully starts closing the vise. A couple of turns on the left handle, then a couple of turns on the right, all done with one hand, as the other holds my balls below the vice. Back to the left, then the right. After about six revolutions of left/right turns she has captured my balls so that I cannot pull them up. She encourages me to try. Stuck. She has trapped me by the testicles holding me to my seat. Not done, she now turns both handles simultaneously, ever so slowly, but deliberately tightens the hold on my sack. She watches my eyes for reaction. It’s only when she knows they are gripped as tightly as possible without causing damage or strangulation does she stop. I try to buck up but can’t. It is surprising how narrow the space is that remains, yet no physical issue to me. This sinister entrapment is fully effective. I cannot go anywhere. I look down and see that my dick lays flat and tight against the worksurface that is my seat. Pulled down and held by the vise that now separates him from his balls. I’m intrigued. I wonder who thought this up. I’m sure it wasn’t her.

“Let’s change out these handcuffs with more suitable leather cuffs.” She has collected from our trunk my favorite leather cuffs which she fastens to my wrists before removing the handcuffs. She pulls the buckles tight and secures them with miniature locks. The cuffs are then secured together with two larger matched locks separated by a short chain. My hands secured behind my back are not enough to satisfy her in her new persona. She begins to put similar leather cuffs on my ankles and securing them to the metal legs of the Workmate. These cuffs are also secured with miniature locks on the buckles and larger locks on the cuffs.

She takes her time, assuming I guess that some of my joy in this play is experiencing the bonds being applied to me, so she doesn’t rush it. It is not till these are in place does she remove the leg irons. “I know securing your legs is completely unnecessary. With your balls held tight and your arms useless in freeing the vice, you are here till I decide to let you go. But what the heck, why not make your legs useless too. You begged, well maybe you didn’t beg, but you said you wanted to be bound tight and inescapable for your birthday and now you are. By the way, I think I want a cruise for my birthday, just saying. Now, enjoy the view. Hope no one comes up the drive, I’m sure you’re visible from most of the front yard.”

“I have some work to do on my thesis defense, I’ll check on you in an hour or two, maybe three.” She then puts the earbuds back into my ears. My balls feel the pressure of the vise, but it does not hurt. The plug in my butt still humming away, now dancing to a different program she has selected. She can control it remotely with her phone. Over the next two hours she’ll change it four times. Before she departs, she gives me a good drink of water. She insists I drink it all as she wants me to stay hydrated while up here in the heat.

The earbuds mute out most of the sounds, I barely hear her leaving and walking down the attic stairs. I do hear the door closing at the bottom of the stairs. I settle in for the duration. I am dry. I am not cold, in fact, it’s a little warm here in the attic. I’m hungry, I’m sure it’s well past lunch. I haven’t been offered anything since ‘my pussy brunch’. I stared out the window, constantly scanning for anyone approaching. Nothing I can do if someone comes but be humiliated. I cannot flee. I am here to be on display.

I do keep watching out the window. It is a stressful view, waiting for someone to come with nothing I can do if they do. I see plenty of wildlife crossing my lawn, they don’t seem to notice or care. The house sets back far enough that the street isn’t much of a concern, but the driveway and front walk worry me. Delivery people were a fear at Dr. D’s house when I was put outside in the front yard naked on a one pole prison. It’s a similar concern here. More at risk though, I’ll know these people. It would turn out that my fretting was for not, no one came during the duration of my display.

She must be working hard on her schoolwork as I sit for a long time. Probably for an hour. I am safe, I can see the baby monitor in front of me keeping a watchful eye. This is one of the more comfortable bondage positions I have ever been in. I am just sitting. The board is hard, though, so my butt in time will start to ache. My back is unsupported, so it too will have some minor discomfort. The good thing is that I can twist my upper body and the stretching helps. My ball sack will eventually also hurt, likely tied to my unconscious attempts to pull myself free of the vise’s unyielding clasp of my sack. My sack around the balls is so tight due to the natural slack being taken up by the inch and a half space of the vise face.

Owwwwwwwl, crap, ohhh! My tight ball sack has just been whipped with the leather tip of a riding crop. It seems she has taken ownership of all the trunk’s bondage toys including my whips. It stings, bad. It was a full force upward swat. It is still stinging. Enough to make my eyes water. I never heard her come up the stairs and move behind me. She now is lightly hitting my sack on one side, then the other, then underneath. The vise has me firmly in its grip and my bag is rigid and full, so even if they are light swats, they are effective in causing the desired pain, assuming that is her intent. The vise allows for zero movement of the bag. I can do nothing to avoid the attack. Her hits continue. Unlike the first swat, they are lighter and bearable. It’s a pain/pleasure moment. I will not object, fearful she will stop playing with me, I know this is a huge stretch for her. I want her to believe I love every bit of this…truth is I would rather move on to something else now. This is instead one of those ‘building character’ moments. She bores and stops.

Chapter 6: Icy Hot Enlightenment

“OK Toy, I’m told to blame this next bit of fun on your buddy’s buddy. This is something I would have never thought of and doesn’t sound like fun or sexy to me, but they tell me you’ll love it with your nuts held as they are.” She then shows me a tube of Icy Hot Pro cream. “I guess you know where this is going, don’t you? Mike said to use the ‘Pro’ cream as it has both menthol and camphor, where the original Icy Hot balm only has menthol. I didn’t ask him how he knew which one was better, but he was pretty sure of himself. He said the combination is supposed to make the cold and hot feelings more enjoyable. Maybe he used the word ‘entertaining’, I don’t remember exactly. I’m not so sure about either because he also said to keep it away from your holes unless I wanted to be extra, extra nasty. He also told me to wear plastic gloves when I put it on you. That is scary and made me apprehensive, but Mike was persistent, mentioning it on more than one phone call. What convinced me to do it was when he said it would make for one of the best parts of your birthday. I guess you’ll find out soon enough, here goes.” She then slathers a coating over my entire trapped ball sack. I know better. This is going to be bad. So bad. My bride has crossed over to the evil side and she doesn’t know it. The boys know it and so do I. Yes, this is going to be bad. I feel like I'm back in Vegas.

“I’m going to leave you to your fun and get back to my work. Oh wait, I forgot, I wanted to do one more thing.” And she twists and pulls each of my nipples, before placing a broad billed clothes pin on each. She then kisses me and leaves.

The clothes pins would initially capture my attention, but my thoughts are only on my balls. The chemical torture has already begun. I have previously experienced Vick’s Vapor Rub on my privates, which isn’t bad at all, kind of nice and stimulating. I have also had the irritant muscle balm ‘Atomic Bomb’ put on my balls by my tormentors in Vegas. Excruciating. Suffering only a BDSM submissive in bondage could enjoy. Applying the Icy Hot to the vulnerable skin of my compressed and recently shaved genitals turns out to be especially diabolical. More so, because it was executed through my naive and uninformed bondage partner. Ah, my sinister friend Dr. D, your hands are all over this. On the other hand, the love of my life is downstairs working on her chemistry PhD. She’s got to be smart enough to know what this cream is going to do to me. If she has just crossed over to the other side, this day may have become my perfect birthday.

It grows slowly but strong, a cool then a cold feeling, like ice being held to you that you can’t pull away from. It’s penetrating. The skin doesn’t like it and neither do the testicles trap within. I find myself trying to pull out of the vise with all my might to no avail. It’s a ‘burning’ cold, yet not one that gives you shivers, it gives you pain. Irritating pain. The label says it delivers pain relief. Maybe on a sore shoulder, not here. It keeps building and building. My upper body squirms as my legs pull and twitch against their restraints. I shake and quiver. Misery is a good description. I start breathing hard, then shallow as I try to internally deal with the suffering of my trapped balls.

Then slowly it changes. The cold is changing. Not for the better. My balls are warming. Make that getting hot. No, they are starting to burn. They are on fire. Pain, oh wow, the pain is intense. I fight my bondage. It holds. Especially the vise that clutches my sack. The self-inflicted yanking up on my nuts is causing its own pain. I must stop pulling as I could hurt myself beyond my irritant suffering. But damn, it burns. This is torturous. “Please stop it, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE! OH GOD, PRETTY, PRETTY PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY. PLEASE!” My plea falls on deaf ears. With no safe word called out, she will ignore what I say, that is our agreed rule when we play. Oh, what I would do to have someone wipe this off, to put some kind of neutralizer on my balls. Anything to make it go away. It’s not going anywhere.

I know that in time it will start to calm down, but time is moving slowly. This is the fantasy though, being abused by my mistress. I’ve been recently seeking and satisfying this bondage and punishment pleasure and relief through gay BDSM masters. Now I am being bound and abused by my own loving wife. This is the dream come true.

Just because this is at my wife’s loving hands doesn’t mean that this doesn’t hurt, hurt bad. In fact, at the moment it is excruciatingly painful. It is relentless. I so want to touch my sack. Hold it. Wipe it free of this crap. Ice it. Dip it in cold milk. But my bound hands are useless. I can’t rescue myself. No one is here to save me. Even my torturer isn’t here, she’s downstairs keeping busy, so I can enjoy this in solitude. I don’t understand how this stuff keeps getting more intense, but it is. The pain is penetrating to my core. How can a simple cream do this? It’s sold over the counter! I’m suffering. Just like a BDSM submissive is to suffer for his Mistress. Just like I suffered for my surrogate Masters out West not long ago. I need to suck it up. But it hurts so much, and I can’t touch it. Oh, if I could only cradle my nuts. It won’t go away. I work on my breathing and find that that pregnancy breathing that women do in delivery really helps. I try to redirect my agony into a more satisfying pain pleasure. It seems to be working. Or maybe the effects are just starting to fade. It will be another half hour for it to get to the level where my nipples and vibrating butt balance it out. I have survived. And I am back in my ‘happy bondage space.’

I also realize as I go over my recent thoughts that my wife’s part in all this is almost entirely based on her desire to make me happy. She might be having more fun today than with previous bondage sessions with me, and maybe she did have a good time planning for this day with Mike and his friends, keeping it a secret from me, but this will end soon enough. If her motivation is limited to just trying to make a special day for me, then selfishly I hope she is motivated to put the same effort into my next birthday, because so far this has been an amazing gift. If she is beginning to enjoy this, oh wow for me.

An hour passes before she returns. I am exhausted from straining in this predicament. And I would like to move onto something new. Without question, I want to continue with the bondage play, just something else now. “OK Toy, are you done with sitting?”

“Yes Ma’am.” First off are the locks to the leg cuff attachments to the bench. She keeps the cuffs on my ankles. The freedom of being able to move and swing my legs is a welcome relief. Then the slow cranking open of the vise. As the handles turn my anticipation grows. I want to stand free of my entrapment. She teasingly takes her time. But I am released, and she helps me stand. I want to cup my balls but can’t as my arms are still cuffed behind me. She then provides some first aid. She has a soft rag and a bowl of what appears to be milk. She rinses the rag in the milk and wipes down my balls. The cream has lost its sting, but it still feels good to feel it being wiped from my sack. I am surprised that there is minimal pain from the time they spent held by the vice. The pain from the cream is now nonexistent. My scrotum is fine. My butt, however, is notably sore as the butt plug still fills me and is vibrating away, what up to a few minutes ago was background noise. I notice that the attic temperature is rising. We must be well into the afternoon. It’s going to be both sexual and physically hot for the remainder of our attic play.

Chapter 7: Bondage with a Virgin

When I restrained my wife in bondage play years ago, I installed eyehooks into the rafters, the floor and some studs to tie the ropes or connect the chains which held her. I never took them down except for the ones threaded into the floors. I circled the floor holes with a marker so I could find them if we decided to play here again. My wife has taken advantage of this work as I am taken over to that end of the attic. The hooks are back in the floor, and she locks my ankle cuffs to them with short chains, spreading my legs wide, but not uncomfortable. As part of the aforementioned play, I also had created a suspension bar from a three-foot-long metal pipe that I had mounted eyehooks on each end and one in the middle. The end hooks are used to attach cuffs. The middle hook is used to attach a rope to hoist the rig up towards the roof to one of the eyehooks I had in the rafter and then back down again with the end tied off on a hook in one of the wall studs. This was kept somewhat hidden in the attic, but she has found it and put it back into use. The bar is dangling just above my head. She locks my wrist cuffs to the end hooks then hoists it up, so my arms stretch above my head. They are taught but not straining.

She elects to blindfold me again and says she’ll be back in a little while. It’s not a long wait. It gives me time to settle into my new restraints, ponder the last adventure and fantasize about what may happen next. I hear her return up the steps and can tell she is setting something up in front of me but of course I can’t see it. We have quality blindfolds in our toybox.

And then she is on me, pressing against my upright bound body, rubbing, cuddling and fondling it. I can feel that she is in some kind of outfit. I am anxious to see what it is. She is giving my privates special attention, a pleasant change from what she had previously done to that area on the bench. Now I am being sucked. Gently, lovingly. I’m quickly hard. It’s her and the pills I was given this morning, but it’s mostly her. I’m getting too excited, and she senses it and stops. She slides back up to me and starts passionately kissing me. I kissed back, loving it, but wishing at the same time she was sucking me again.

“Easy Toy, easy. This is my time now, not yours,” she whispers. Then she pulls off my blindfold and backs away. She is dressed in all white, lacy lingerie. White stockings. A tiny white garter holding the stockings, but it covers no panties, they are not there, allowing her shaved pussy to be exposed and vulnerable. She wears a white corset that makes her waist narrow and pushes up her beautiful champagne glass exposed breasts. A white lace choker and matching wristlets finishes the ensemble. She takes a few steps back from me where she has covered the floor with a comforter and numerous pillows. She lays herself down on the quilt and cushions so that her privates are fully exposed to me. She then begins to fondle and caress her own body in a very innocent yet erotic manner. It’s beautiful and hot and arousing. I’m already hard and I’m staying that way completely on the visual arousal she is providing. Oh, I want to have my hands to stimulate myself. Frustration is one of the things that make bondage so much fun for me.

She starts to masturbate herself with one hand as she plays with her nipples, Wow oh wow. Live porn. She looks so much younger than her age. The outfit, her shaved pussy, her fitness, the firm, youthful B titties. Oh, so hot, erotic, beautiful. She is slowly exciting herself, fully planning on reaching orgasm in front of me, intending to sexually frustrate me as she pleasures herself and she is. She now is working her clit with a vibrator as she tenses up, shutters as she cums hard. She then for a few moments massages her breasts till she recovers enough to begin working her cunt and clit again. I just hung there, loving every moment of the show. She is so beautiful, hot, and looks like the brilliant yet naive and innocent girl I dated in college. She is the little girl I fell in love with. She cums a second time, just as spectacular as the first. She rests and recovers and puts the show on for me one more time. I’m still hard as she finishes the tease. Now it will be for real. She gets up and lowers my arms and removes my cuff hands from the bar. “Sit down.”

“Yes Ma’am” A little difficult with my cuffed ankles but the chains allow enough freedom to get it done. She then lays me out flat and stretches my cuffed wrists to chains attached to other floor eyehooks that were part of the old setup. Next, she gives me an ‘open your mouth wide’ command and inserts a spider ring gag into my mouth and buckles it tightly behind my head. She ends my new bondage setup by putting a towel under my head and neck, then resumes her sexual cuddling and fondling of me, laying on top of me, having a good time. And so am I. She smothers me with kisses, licking my lips held open by the gag and starts sliding down my body, stopping to suck on my nipples before arriving at my cock where she begins one of her magnificent blow jobs. Her tongue work is unbelievable, gliding up and down my shaft, her lips rivalling any vagina lips in doing their duty. Her hands help with lower shaft work and the fondling of my slightly tender balls. She brings me to the brink, then slows me down, then up to the brink and then back down again. She keeps me going for a long time, bringing me right up to the edge time and time again. The bonds making her normal over the top sucking even more incredible. She spins around and pushes her pink pussy lips to my face as she continues to suck me sixty-nine style. I lick her with abandon through the ring. I am pretty good at licking too, even when inhibited by a forced open mouth, and she responds.

I’m getting close again. She stops and spins around again, this time moving into a woman-on-top intercourse position. She aligns with my swollen cock and does a dance tease up and down on the head, finally plunging down and swallowing my dick with her cunt. She then fucks me like there is no tomorrow. I do my best to thrust up into her, restricted by my ties. This is bliss. It’s glorious. A fuck to remember, but after all that I have been through today I can hold off no longer and cum hard within her. A lot. She keeps riding me till she can feel me going limp and will soon fall out. It is only then that she lifts herself off me. She immediately places her hand over her vagina while she again turns around and I know what is coming and why I have this ring gag. She moves up to my face, puts her vagina over my mouth and removes her hand. She flows readily. I put a lot of my cum in her and it's now being returned to me by gravity and her twitching twat. “Lick it good, don’t leave anything behind. I don’t want to take another shower.”

She is in no hurry. And likes the attention I am giving her outer and inner lips and her swelled clit. I have a lot of cum in my mouth and that isn’t pleasant. I don’t have a plan. She does. She climbs off me and removes the gag, saying “It’s easier to swallow with that out of your mouth. I’m going to watch as you do. This is a hoot because it’s something you know I won’t do, yet with the birthday treat you asked for, you have to swallow as my submissive.” She is smiling broadly as I do.

I am again left here as she goes back downstairs, vibrator still running in my butt. They weren’t lying about it running for eleven hours or more on a charge. I had swallowed as I was commanded, but there was still residual cum in my mouth. At least it’s mine and not the boys from Vegas. The room is getting hotter. I’m thirsty. But I am happy in my bonds. My dick is certainly happy too. It has even started to recover.

Chapter 8: Bondage with a Dominatrix

It’s probably been a good half hour, likely more, before she comes back up the steps. I arch my neck up to take a look as she crests the top step. She has changed; my innocent lace covered angel has transformed into a leather clad dominatrix. It is an outfit I know, thigh high boots, tight corset laced up tight in the back pushing her boobs up and out, collar, and cap. All black leather. Evil looking but hot. She wears this occasionally during our normal sex encounters and then on previous birthday bondage play. Added to the outfit today is a strap-on around her waist and a flogger in her hand. That clues me in on what to expect next. Mixed feelings when I see both.

She comes right up to me and yells, “You Son of a Bitch! You raped my innocent little sister. Filled her with your dirty spunk. Ate her out! You’re going to pay big time.” She tried to sound convincing in her roleplay, but acting was never her strong suit. Singing, she has a beautiful voice, but an actress, no. That doesn’t mean the physical aspects of this play falls short as she begins to swing the flogger targeting my cock, balls and nipples. In our past bondage play, one of the things that disappointed me most was her hesitance to provide punishments. She didn’t want to hurt me and thus her attempts to paddle me, whip me, whatever, fell well short of satisfying my wants and needs. It would make her feel bad and not want to play at all. Someone has given her a pep talk. I’m not whipped like I was by the Doms in the Vegas dungeon, but I am being effectively thrashed. I’m pleased. I’m proud of her.

It doesn’t go on long, I crave more actually. She has other plans for me, and she wanted to get on with them. I am released from the floor, helped up and directed back to the Workmate. This time she has me stand up in front of what one would consider the front side. She has put a pillow on top of the work surface and wrapped it in place with plastic wrap. Not sure when she did that. She secures my ankle cuffs to the front legs and then bends me over the top so my chest rests on it and secures my wrist cuffs to the feet of the front legs. I am now in the perfect position to have my butt fucked and that is exactly what I expect.

It is, however, not what she does first. This position presents my butt cheeks well too. She is still playing the vengeful dominatrix hell bent on punishing me. I can’t see what she is doing but upon the first swat I know. She has my leather paddle from the trunk. She has hit me for real, and it smarts. Then a second swing lands on the other cheek. Though startled, I still don’t cry out. I have been previously trained. Third and fourth hits land. I feel her rub the cheeks as she checks out her work. I must be getting red. Then five/six and seven/eight. Real hits. Another rub and a comment that was something like, “Cool, bright red, nice, I think I can get into this.” I then hear another hit and it’s not me; I think she just took a swat on her own ass. Her words this time sounded real, I think, at least for the moment, she meant it, even tried it. Wack numbers nine and ten come in maybe a little harder. Is she done at ten? No, as eleven and twelve land. Still at full force. Is she counting? I think she was, as she stopped at twenty, ten each cheek. I know my cheeks must be beet red. She then utters to herself “Nice work girl, I think he liked that just like they said.” Then to me she says, “You OK, happy?”

“Yes Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am. Your Toy loved it.” Selfishly I wanted to provide positive praise and encouragement.

I feel the butt plug go silent and feel her pull it out. It comes out easier than it went in, but still not pleasant, it is large. She puts it somewhere. I’m a bit relieved. In Vegas it would have been put in my mouth to be cleaned. She wastes no time. She is at my mouth. “Make it wet, real wet, or expect some pain.” This time she said her lines with a little more punch but still words that I haven’t heard her say before. I do what I’m told. I am proud of myself because I know I did a good job of lubing up the dildo. I have had practice that she is unaware. I also have practice taking it where she is about to put it.

She moves to my butt hole. I feel her place some lube around and inside my hole; she cares about me. And she pushes into me. A strap on isn’t as good as the real thing. They flex a little too much. But it does get the job done. She is plowing me good for a person with limited time in pegging her husband. I confess she has done it before to me, once during bondage play and once during regular sex. She is using her whole body. Thrusting hard, rocking on her toes, pushing off them. She goes deep and makes long full strokes. She is even changing up her speed, sometimes going slow and deliberate, other times fast and hard. Occasionally she pulls all the way out, rubs my butt, then smacks it with her hand, I guess to remind me about my recent spanking. Then she plows me some more.

Eventually she finishes and pulls out. Finishes the fucking that is. She has been coached by the boys. She is now moving around the bench to my face. “Open. I want my dick cleaned.” I am used to this too. I don’t like it, but I have been subject to it many times when the boys were abusing me. But this is different. When out west, I would be internally cleansed at least once if not twice a day. That was not done today. I was woken and we got right to playing. No bathroom stops for anything. Instead, I had my ass plugged and vibrated for hours and hours. This prick about to be pushed into my mouth must be soiled. “I said open and clean me,” she demands as she slaps my cheek with the dick. So, I open. I wanted to be the sub; this is part of it.

I am right. The dildo is well coated, especially the tip. I take it in. I can’t object, it’s me who wanted to play. If I balk, it will wreck the scene. I clean it off for real, not just going through the motions. She stands still so I must do all the work moving my mouth up and down the shaft. It takes both my lips and tongue to get it done and that takes some time, certainly longer than I want. It feels clean, it’s my mouth that now feels dirty. She backs away from me. And I see her taking it off. Something tells me she is a little put off from what I just did. You could say she made me, but I do have safe words. I know this wasn’t her idea, this was suggested to her, strongly encouraged, I’m sure. Probably under the story that I want this. A guy thing. Not the truth. I hope she doesn’t think less now of her once perfect husband.

What has been left in my mouth surprisingly isn’t that bad. It’s more psychological than anything. It doesn’t taste awful. Not something you’d want to eat every night, but some of the cum and piss I’ve been forced to take in at times has been worse. And I have had to taste myself before, just not in the quantity that was loaded onto the dildo today. I know the slight bitterness it has. New to me is that I notice that there is a bit of texture in the little clumps I licked off. As they dissolve in my saliva there are a couple pieces of grit left behind on my tongue. I find myself subconsciously licking my lips, drawing into my mouth what was left on them. And I’m not puking or gagging. I don’t feel sick to my stomach. I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy. It’s just ‘me’ in my mouth. Better certainly better to swallow than someone else’s ‘me’. The bride comes over with a bottle of water and tells me to drink.

“Do you need to rinse?” she asks.

“No Ma’am, I’m fine, really, the drink of water will be enough.”

“OK, you still want more? More play, I mean. We are done with you sucking my strap on.”

“Yes Ma’am, please don’t stop playing with me unless you don’t want to continue.”

“Oh, I’m still good and some of the fun stuff for me is still coming.” I’m not sure what that means but I’m pleased. I’m not ready to stop, this is my ongoing fantasy coming true.

Chapter 9: Dinner Break

She is back behind me again. She is fiddling with my ball sack, hooking me up to something. I feel my sack being squeezed and ball separated like they were earlier by the Workmate’s vise. I feel the device she is screwing down press against my hind legs. I realize what this is. A Humbler. I don’t own one. This must have come from Mike. Sir Michael put me in one during my first BDSM experience in San Diego. If you are unaware, as I was the first time one was put on me, a humbler is a device made of two pieces of identical shaped wood that are about 15 inches long and two inches wide with two opposing sweeping curves that meet in the middle. In the middle of each piece is a portion hollowed out so that when the top and bottom come together, they create a space that can capture a man’s ball sack. The two boards are fastened together with bolts on each end and screwed down tight around the balls via butterfly nuts. When the balls are captured from behind and secured, the long boards rest on the back of the victim’s lower butt and upper legs. When the wearer tries to walk it tugs on the balls in a painful manner. A very slow shuffle, if that, is the best one can do. A fun and effective bondage toy.

She finishes screwing down the wingnuts and I have been hobbled. She unlocks my ankle cuffs from the Workmate and locks them together with a short chain. My wrists cuffs are then released and locked together in front of me. “Meet me in the kitchen and you can eat your dinner before we start your next adventure, Toy,” she tells me. I stand up from my bent over position. A relief for my back and stomach, but there is an immediate tug on my balls. Getting to the kitchen is not going to be easy and I have been left on my own to get there. I turn and make my first few steps forward. I have to slowly slide my feet along the floor trying to have minimal movement of my hips and thighs to reduce the strain on my scrotum. It takes a few minutes just to reach the stairs. There is no way that I am going to traverse them going down forward so I spin myself around. Ever so slowly I bring one foot down the top step and then the other. With it comes a hurtful pull. I don’t see any better way to do this. So, grasping the railing with my cuffed hands for stability and leverage I dropped one foot at a time down to the next step. I take a deep breath and do the next one. I can repeat this about five times before my sack begs for a break. I begin again, repeating the process, taking a second break before reaching the bottom. It is then a slow, slow shuffle down the hallway to the stairwell down to the first floor.

I ponder if I could sit down on the top step and then glide down step to step like little kids do. I try sitting down and doing it. Big mistake. Very painful just sitting down, then sliding catches the humbler and tugs so hard I almost shout out. Getting back to the standing position is just as bad if not worse than sitting down. I’m back to my original method, doing it now with balls that are more tender from my poorly thought out and executed plan of moments ago. I am finally at the bottom, and I head to the kitchen. There I am greeted with, “That took way too long. You need to be punished. Bend over and hold onto your ankle cuffs with your hands,” she demands with a bit of glee in her voice. I comply, but the humbler is making it difficult, and my sack is straining and in pain. I am then paddled, hard, three strikes on each cheek. “I hope you enjoyed that because I am starting to like reddening your cheeks. It’s been the best part of the day for me.”

I am told to go sit at the table. I try but the humbler won’t let me. “Ma’am, can I stand, your restraint is trying to rip off my balls when I sit,” I beg.

“OK, but that doesn’t make me happy, I think you’ll have to get spanked again for your dessert,” she replies. She then sits my dinner plate down on the table in front of me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, out West my meals were minimal and at times part of the abuse regiment, even eating out of a dog bowl without hands. I’m looking at a nice plate of cheese ravioli in a red sauce with two meatballs, a piece of garlic bread and a glass of wine. Though my wrists were bound together, they were in front of me, I had my hands, so I could feed myself even though I had to stand. It was delicious. Most importantly, it changes the taste in my mouth from bad to good. Still, it would have been nice to gargle in between courses.

We both finish our salads and main course, including the wine. Thankfully she clears the table of our dishes as I am not very mobile. She fixes a cup of coffee for herself. I’m not a coffee drinker. She enjoys it with a small piece of pound cake as I stand obediently by the table, naked, hobbled and bound. She finishes, gets up and says, “Oh, that’s right, you didn’t get your dessert, bend over again please.” I am then paddled again three times on each cheek. I swear she is hitting harder each time she spanks me now. She then rubs my glowing bottom with her hand. “Rosey red, this time, nice. Good thing you are done sitting for the day.” She seems to have finally found something in my bondage play that she likes.

Chapter 10: Back to the Basement

“I’ll give you a head start. I’ll meet you in the lower guest room,” she advises. I slowly turn around and start shuffling toward the stairs when my ass is warmed one more time on the right cheek with another firm hit. “That cheek wasn’t as red as the left,” she then announces as I continue to the basement. She didn’t need to defend her actions, I’m the submissive today.

It takes me a while to get down the steps and my bag is aching. I keep reminding myself that I asked for this, I wanted to be bound and used by her, and that I likely will not get it again with her till another year goes by, so suck it up. This discomfort is nothing to what I let the boys do to me. I finally get to the guest room and see that the bed has been cleaned up and cleared of its plastic sheet and has been remade with its usual sheets, comforter and pillows. New since I was here earlier and lying on the floor though is something I recognize. It’s simply a twin-sized mattress and I am pleased. Underneath it are six cargo straps extending out on the floor on both sides of the mattress, ready for use. There are two large towels on top of the mattress to provide spill protection should there be any during play. Also, on the mattress is an eighteen-inch-wide roll of black industrial shipping stretch wrap. She’s going to put me in my favorite form of bondage. We have done this several times before on this very mattress; some years it was the only form of bondage she used. I even did her once this way. Of course, she hated it because it was too restrictive, the exact reason I love it. It has taken a lot of convincing over the years to have her wrap me head to toe with multiple tight layers of wrap. Sir Michael has done it too. I can’t wait.

And I don’t have to wait long. She has joined me and is working on removing the Humbler. It’s off and I am happy. It turned out to be a nasty painful device. It is meant to keep the user from walking and yet I was forced to both descend stairs and walk around. Very effective in its intended purpose, my balls now ache. My wrist and ankle restraints are also removed and now I am standing before her naked. “Spread your legs and keep your head facing forward and close your eyes.” I do as I’m told.

I feel her hands spreading my butt and lube being applied to my hole. Then something blunt is pushed against it and I am told to bend forward. It’s hard and cold, I think it’s a steel butt plug, but I don’t own one like this. It must have come in the package sent from out West. With effort and a little pain, she is starting to make progress with the insertion. She is working in a no-nonsense mode, and with some twisting and in/out push pulling she forces it past my spinster. The plug is a large one, Sir Michael wouldn’t have sent anything less. It’s not uncomfortable now that it has been seated, but she is still fiddling around with the protruding base. She is snapping a wire to it. I now get it; it’s an electro plug. I am immediately concerned about how I am going to be shocked. It’s not something she has much experience with as I usually use electroshock in my self-bondage play or when we are having non-bondage kinky sex where I am controlling my own stimulation, so this could be interesting. Electro play can be a lot of fun with some programs and at reasonable levels and can be pure torture at high straight shock levels. I can feel the power-leads dangling between my legs. I’m uneasy. She then tells me to stand back upright, and she takes a narrow six-inch roll of shipping stretch wrap and wraps between my legs and around my hips to secure the plug in my rectum. Sometimes an electro plug shocks are such that the ass muscles can eject it. That won’t happen now.

“Place your arms to your sides and put your legs back together and keep them that way,” I’m told. I know my wrapping is about to begin. She starts at my chest, winding around my body capturing my arms to the sides with the wrap. The first full circle around me and my arms are already trapped, pressed against my sides. She circles again moving slightly downward, my elbows now locked against me, then around again and the forearms are captured, then the hands. Down it goes. She is pulling the wrap tight with each rotation. It is smooth and cool. Tight. I feel her now at about my hips. As she circles around my butt I feel a tug from my hole. She is maneuvering the wire from the electrode in my ass, so it won’t be trapped under the plastic. As she comes around passing over my groin, I realize she has covered my dick. It is pressed against me. In the past she left it exposed so she would have something to play with, well, it’s not up to me what her plan is tonight. She continues downward to the ankle and to the top of my feet. Then she starts to circle back up again.

Interesting, my feet are still bare, I wonder if they will stay that way? Around and around, always keeping the wrap tight, adjusting the wire coming from me as she passes by again. I feel great and excited. She now passes where she started and works up to my neck. It is then again back down, when we pass the chest, we are at layer three. With each succeeding layer it feels more binding and secure although I would not have been able to move much, if any, past the second wrapping. Back up we come; we are at number four. Then it is layer five. Wow. She stops again at the neck and cuts the roll. I feel her smooth out the final stretch like she is sealing it to the layer below it.

A few minutes passed as she fetched something and I’m careful to stay erect as I could easily lose my balance and there would be no stopping the nasty fall. She tells me to open my mouth wide, so I do. She slips in a metal ring behind my teeth and tells me to close down on it. I can tell she has been talking to Mike about this. He put a ring gag in my mouth when wrapping my head with the plastic to help in cutting open my airway. My wife has only wrapped my head once and that didn’t go well in the breathing department. She must have asked how to make it go more smoothly.

Once the ring is in place she starts wrapping where she had left off at my neck. She is going slower as she works this wide wrap around my neck and chin forming it to my narrower contours as she goes. She makes three passes before she comes higher. I’m told, “Take a deep breath.” I do, a big one, and the wrap passes over my mouth and nose, instantly sealing off my air supply. I can tell she is now trying to work quickly as she circles this loop a second, third and fourth time around my face and head. She stops and I feel her working the roll and it seems to fall away. I have lost my eyesight and most of my hearing along with my ability to breathe. It is exactly as Sir Michael did it. I am in no trouble as she moves to the next step; I have plenty of air in my lungs. I wait patiently. And I feel her poking at the wrap covering the center of the metal ring. She pops through and a little hole is made through the wrap. She then starts cutting around the circumference of the ring as I exhale and breathe in.

The ring is a genius way of wrapping my face tightly while providing a fast and safe cutting point for getting my airway back open quickly. She then reaches back into my mouth to remove the ring. That made me happy. The ring gag Sir Michael used stayed in and over the long duration my mouth suffered. I try to open even wider to help with the removal. With my airway clear and safe, she then finishes wrapping around in a variety of circle routes till she has made my head completely encased with plastic wrap. She then continued back down my neck, never encroaching on my open airway, circling till she reached my chest where this all began. I faintly hear “Good enough?” She must be done.

I feel her grab me from behind and she tells me in a loud voice to shuffle backwards. I do until I feel my heels bump against what I assume is the mattress. She then loudly says, “Fall Backward.” I do without fear as I know she is holding onto me. It still isn’t a gentle fall to the mattress as I am much bigger than she is. Now on the mattress she spins me around so that I am resting in the proper orientation and centered. I am very restricted in my wrapped body. I try, but I can’t move any of my body parts except my uncovered feet. Everything is compressed except my lungs. I know from past experience to keep my lungs full as my chest is wrapped. While it is restricted some, my breathing is not labored, I’ll be fine with the breathing.

Now my little movement left is being taken away. She lifts my lower legs off the mattress and wraps my feet, completing my cocoon. I can wiggle my toes, but that is it.

She is still not done with me. I can’t move. I certainly can’t get up from the mattress I am lying on. She is now taking the cargo straps that are under the mattress and extending them over my wrapped body, connecting the ends and ratcheting them tight making my body compress down into the mattress. There are six of them, equally spaced starting at my ankles and ending at my shoulders, just under my throat. So overdone. So restrictive. So tight. So wonderful!

Now she’s done. I attempt to move, and I can’t move anything. From my feet to my head, I am affixed to the mattress. I cannot move my arms, my hands, or even my fingers in the wrap. I try my legs, absolutely no movement. Flex my feet and only my toes can wiggle. Swivel my hips, no. I can’t twist my neck, I can make my head rock slightly upward, but side to side, nothing. I know to some this would be intolerable, to me this is super. Of course, I am speaking to the method of how I am bound and how it feels on my body and how it feels in my mind. What happens to me while I am completely vulnerable remains to be seen. I’m already concerned about the toy hiding in my butt.

I now hear her talking on the phone. She has called Mike and has him on speaker phone. I’m not sure how to react. “Mike wants to talk to you, he knows your current situation, in fact, we’ve been chatting all day off and on,” she tells me.

“Hey Buddy, Happy Birthday! I hope you are enjoying your birthday present. Your wife has gone to a lot of trouble and effort to make it special. From what she’s done already I know you know that. She’s quite a gal, but you know that more than anyone. And, lucky you, she’s got more up her sleeve. I think you know already that I sent her some toys to help her make your day extra fun. You are about to find out that what I sent included a Kink E-Stim Power box and some fun accessories that go with it. It’s their new K250-4S. My buddies that are into electro play tell me this is the newest best power box in the market. I know you always wanted an ET312, but you were too cheap to buy yourself one. Well, now you have something that is supposed to be even more versatile and powerful.”

He continues, “It has the newest version of software with all the new bells and whistles. I can even operate it from here, so be good to your wife tonight or I’ll have her turn over the controls. I know you’re going to love it you sick fuck! I’m going to talk her through the set up. You are going to have some fun while you are all wrapped up. She tells me you’re going to be strapped down for the next four hours. I promise that you’ll be entertained for the duration. If not, call me and we can change the settings and fry your butt.”

He then redirects the conversation to my wife. After considerable time, and some startling test shocks and buzzes, they get the programming set. I tried my best to listen in but the wrap over my ears muffled a lot of it. I did hear them talk about setting to select different modes at random with alternating periods of On and Off time. I also heard that it has something like 15 factory loaded modes or stimulation routines, some with names like Intense, Wave, Stroke, Climb, Rhythm, Orgasm, and Torment. I am about to experience all of them, like it or not. They work on adjusting the settings so that my abuse will have limits. This power unit can well exceed anything I can handle. Mike has my mistress watch to see how much my body jumps even though it’s secured tight and if I respond with sounds, good or bad.

And I heard the call end, while it was a lot of techno talk, I could tell they were having fun. The two of them have always got along great, Mike is just as happy to talk with her for an hour as he does with me. “I’m headed back upstairs, have fun. The monitor is on, and I’ll be back down from time to time to play with you should the mood strike me.” I feel a pat on my shoulder and then nothing. She has turned on music, but I can barely hear it. I can’t see. I cannot move. All one can do is ponder the world, one’s predicament, daydream and fantasize, maybe sleep, and wait. And I do. I’m not concerned about a four-hour duration. She has kept me once before that long. I was held much longer out West. I don’t have any say in the matter unless I want to quit and I surely don’t. I wait, knowing my butt will soon light up. It didn’t take long. The control box started me off easy, a pleasant slow to fast buzzing with a push pull feel. There would be many others. Each is different, some I loved, some I hated, it mattered not, I couldn’t select them, stop them, or escape them. Mine to endure and suffer. The bound submissive life I fantasize was made real by a loving wife.

After the first mild round, the second proved challenging, then the third was sexually exciting. Three rounds and three different experiences. Over the next four hours there would be almost a hundred of them. I would come to learn the many modes. However, if asked, the modes and mode combinations provide feelings that are hard to describe. By themselves there were distinct sensations. One was a tingling that was a mild, pleasant feeling that I would describe as like a gentle tickle. Another was a pricking that felt like sharp tiny pinpricks. There was a buzzing that was a continuous vibrating that sometimes was steady and sometimes pulsating. Speaking of pulsing, similar but different was a rhythmic, throbbing sensation that varied in intensity and frequency. There was a hard ticklish feeling that was at times pleasant and at other times uncomfortable. I’m not sure how or why but at times it caused a warmth deep within me. There were constant involuntary muscle twitches that when delivered at the right frequency and intensity were like heaven, and when they were stronger, and they often were, it was agony.

One mode that was part of many combinations was what I would call throbbing, a deep pulsing sensation that at times seemed to mimic my heartbeat and at other rounds would be a massage feeling. One mode I hated, it delivered pure pain. A stinging sharp, intense long zap or repetitive zaps that ranged from mildly uncomfortable to highly painful. The random programming injected these in at the oddest times, often wrecking a program that was causing wonderful internal feelings. Occasionally, when the off time was short for 3 or 4 reps, I would have numbing and the routines would fade in their impact. This usually self-corrected with the unit delivering an exceptionally high tempo intense session or I would get hit with one of the hard pain jolts.

I think my favorite is what I’ll call euphoric waves. These were slow build waves of charges that made my muscles convulse and my body shake. These would grow and grow till I wanted to cry out in joyous ecstasy, an unbelievable intense arousal. Each time this type of program would run it was subtly different, always varying patterns and intensities. There was buzzing and vibrating that could be rapid or continuous sensations that at times were gentle and other time intense vibrations that gave me whole body shakes but still centered in my rectum. Also, there was a mode that was a light intermittent sensation that felt like soft fluttering that seemed to be occurring on the underside of my skin. There were rhythmic, deep sensations that felt like gentle thumping or tapping deep inside me. These different modes could cause my whole body to jolt or twitch too. The large size and mass of the electro plug added to the sensation as it added pressure and a feeling of weight inside me as my rectum gripped it tight as it fired off its charges.

One extended-run routine I remembered challenged my endurance to tolerate the play. It started with a combination set of modes that kept changing the speed from very gradual to brisk and then an abrupt stop, before starting all over again. When it finally ended it was just a minute of rest before I felt my body being stroked by a unique “push/pull” effect, constantly varying between a deeper stroke, then switching to a longer stroke and back again. A much better sensation. Then just a minute later I was subjected to a pattern that started so slow it was irritating and then it suddenly went so fast that my body begged for it to slow down so I wouldn’t piss myself. With the stroke rate constantly changing I could never get used to any pattern. There were times when ‘thrusting’ and ‘stroking’ sensations went into combat with each other. There would be periods where just a simple repetitious mode would play, then the next time there would be a combination of several effects, toggling between them. The level and frequency often changed mid-round, and to my regret at times it went all the way up to an intense mode that would make me strain so hard against my restraints that I thought I would break free. The straps would allow for none of that.

So, my mind and my body got to experience feelings ranging from ultimate agony to absolute euphoria and everywhere in between. I was at times in heaven, sometimes in hell. I was loving it. As I had previously said, this is my favorite form of bondage, and the surprise of each volley was the perfect entertainment for a bondage slut. Curiously, my tormentors had programmed the controls to automatically adjust the pulse frequency over a wide range and that changes the “feel.” It would create too often what I’ll describe as “urgency” rapidly bringing me close to or over the edge. The unit was smart enough to know that even as varied as each mode was, over time the body gets used to the electric impulses, so it slowly increases the power and intensity of each new attack.

I also was treated to visits by my beloved. I was always startled as I couldn’t hear or see her approach. Sometimes it was simply her passionately kissing me. Other times to do devious things like when she took safety shears and cut small circles around my plastic bound nipples. She then sucked on them, making them hard, before applying nipple clamps, screwing them down tight before slipping away. This provided an alternative pain to the one happening in my rectum. They remain there for at least an hour before she returned, with her post removal fondling and sucking of my nipples bringing new excruciating torture as the blood circulation returned. They would remain sensitive for hours. The best visit came at about the three-hour mark. With my body exhausted, overstimulated, sexually frustrated, and still completely secured, she again took shears, and this time cut free my cock and balls.

She then made tremendous love to them, first with her fantastic lips and tongue actions along with her silky-smooth hands and then after I was as hard and engorged as possible, she fucked me silly as the electro program continued to dance intermittently inside me. My climax and ejaculation were fantastic and so needed by this time. She kept me mounted till she coaxed out every bit of seed from my testicles. It was spinning around time, and her dripping vagina had again arrived at my mouth. She sat tightly against me, knowing that with my nose covered with wrap I must either lick her clean or suffocate. I opted for taking back my cum. It would remain a coating in my mouth till she ended this game an hour later.

After intercourse and subsequent cum consumption, it was another hour in solitude, dancing to whatever routine the Kink box felt like serving up. Some truly drive me over the edge despite my body and mind fighting the initial depression and desire to go on, that any guy has after an ejaculation. Usually when I am in wrap, I have a long time to contemplate the world and my life. The Kink played havoc with that solitude, never knowing when it would interrupt my thoughts. Sometimes there would be just a minute between zaps, other times I anxiously waited for five or more minutes to know if I was going to be in agony or ecstasy. I would never know what was coming and that wears on the mind. I was glad when she finally turned off the box and cut me out. I was sad too.

It took some time to secure me up this way and releasing me likewise takes a while. First came off the cargo straps, that alone offered my body relief. She then began the laborious task of cutting me out of the wrap and slowly pulling it free of my body in a manner that my skin would not be harmed. She thankfully began with my head and face. When my eyesight was restored, I discovered she had returned to wearing her black leather dominatrix ensemble. She is so hot and stunning in this outfit. Even now I get hard thinking about her wearing it. Always a super turn on for me. Her look was not of a rescuer but of a woman intent on dominating her toy well into the evening. With my head, face and neck free, she systematically worked down my body and limbs, peeling away the five layers that encased me in small sections. As I gained enough freedom, she had me stand to do the final peeling from my back and hind legs. I loved it as she wrapped me and loved it just as much having it removed after four long hours. She asks, “Did you like your new toy? Do you want to keep it in for the rest of the night?”

“Yes, Ma’am I really, really enjoyed it, the pain and pleasure it gave me was amazing. It was a wonderful birthday gift. I must thank Mike profusely for sending the toy, and No Ma’am, no more tonight, please no more jolts, please take it out, my butt can’t take any more electroshocks,” I say in a somewhat pleading voice. I am also ecstatic as I realize, based on her dress and on what she just said we are not done playing yet. Usually, my shrink wrapping is the finale of our bondage play. She did mention 24 hours this morning, wow, attagirl!

Chapter 11: It’s Dark Outside, Painful Inside

She gives me a bottle of water which serves to both hydrate me and clear my mouth. “Give me your wrists,” she commands, and the leather cuffs are again buckled and locked on. She is mimicking my west coast treatment of always being kept bound. Another suggestion I assume they gave her. My hands are secured together behind me. The ankles are next, and they are connected with a short chain between them. She then begins applying a lotion to my skin. I’m not sure if this is to soothe my skin after being in the wrap or what. It does bring my attention back to the fact that my body is hairless, so weird. She covers my entire body including my face, even my ears and toes, but curious enough not my dick and sack. Interesting. She then simply says, “Mosquito repellent, you’re on your own with your privates because I don’t have a desire to lick repellent.”

It hits me immediately; we are headed outside. It is dark out, and our backyard is somewhat isolated from the neighbors’ view. But this isn’t Vegas. I don’t want to be seen naked and in bondage being controlled by my wife. On the other hand, outside bondage is a big-time fantasy of mine. She knows it and Mike knows it. So, it only makes sense that they would have included it in her plans for me. I’m excited and intrigued as to what this escapade will entail. She then puts a second bottle of water to my lips to drink.

I barely get to drink it down when she says, “Let’s go,” and she grabs my penis as before to guide me. This time I can see which is helpful. We head out the slider in the direction of the pool. This concerns me as the deck is well illuminated with overhead string lights, but she swings wide of it, and we pass in the shadows. Dressed as she is, she doesn’t want to be seen either. The pool is now behind us and we are on the gentle grass slope that leads down towards the rear wooded track of our property. She stops about ten feet in front of the white three rail estate style fence that we used in the backyard to separate our ‘kept’ lawn and the area we call ‘our south forty’ the wilder grass area between the woods and our house. I’m somewhat relieved as this area is visually isolated with evergreen trees and other shrubs we have planted along the perimeter. It would be hard for the neighbors to see us. Unless of course, they should be walking their dogs deep in their own backyards. She lets go of my dick and tells me to, “Get down on your knees.” A little bewildered but still obedient, I do as I am instructed. She sets a lawn chair in front of me and sits down.

She then shows me an odd shaped phallic-looking goldish brown vegetable. “Do you know what this is?” I’m asked.

“No Ma’am.”

It’s very fresh ginger root, the fresher the more intense,” she tells me. “Do you know what ‘figging’ is?” she asks.

“No Ma’am.”

“Well, you are about to find out. While you were being electro zapped, I skinned and carved a plug from one of the legs of the root. See, it looks much like the shape of your vibrator plugs. I’m going to lightly peel another layer from the plug, so the plug’s surface is fresh and juicy.” And as I kneel in front of her, I watch her delicately skin a thin layer off the ginger root. “This of course is going up your butt, so bend over and put your face into the grass and spread your knees wide apart.” This raises my butt and opens it to her. She then with a bit of twisting and pushing, slides her ginger plug into my rectum. She then unlocks my wrist cuffs from behind my back and tells me to lie down on my back in the grass. She adds, ”Behave, cooperate, and do not resist as I resecure your bonds or I will carve another slither of root and force it down your penis hole,” convincingly said in a factual, no-nonsense, yet playful way.

She gets right to work, and I realize she has had the site prepared before our arrival. She shifts me around just a bit and then attaches the hooks of cargo straps to my ankle cuffs. I was shown a few days later where the other ends were already attached, and that is to two adjacent posts of our fence. The straps are adjusted and then ratcheted until the slack is gone. My wrists are then pulled perpendicular to my body and also attached to cargo straps, adjusted and ratcheted to remove slack. I’m amazed at how much she put into the day for me. To ready this site for tying me down she had gotten two 18 inch pressure treated 4x4s we had in the shed and with a post hole digger, made a hole on each side of where I now lay, wide enough apart to accommodate my wing span and room to make the ratchets work, sunk them and filled and tamped the holes so that they were firmly rooted just at the ground surface. She then installed quarter-inch eye hooks into the tops of the 4x4s to accept the end hooks of the straps.

With me now secured to the four posts she then goes back and ratchets again each limb till I am stretched taught. She checks the tension and then goes back once again and adds one more ratchet pull to each limb. I’m here to stay till she decides otherwise. She is not done. She puts a leather O-ring collar from our bondage collection around my neck, not too tight, and buckles it. She then takes two tent pegs and hammers them into the ground, catching the rings adorning each side of the collar, being careful in the dark to not hit me. My neck and head have been basically secured and immobilized, just like my limbs.

I find myself outside, fixed to the ground, just beyond the glow of the strung pool lights, naked, going nowhere. She wanders away saying “I’m going to get myself a snack.” I’m alone… actually, I’m not. I realize nature is all around me. That gives me the willies. I am directly on the grass. The thought of bugs and other crawly things come to mind. Deer, the woods are full of them. We have raccoons, squirrels, groundhogs and the like. I am defenseless, except for the mosquito repellent. And then I feel it, there is a glow in my butt. The buildup is slow. The ginger oils are starting to mingle with the delicate and well abused tissues of my rectum. It started simply with a noticeable warm feeling, then tingling. Then more and more of a burning sensation. I find out later that this is ‘figging’ and freshness increases the ginger’s potency. So does clenching one’s sphincter muscles which I involuntarily continue to do. About twenty minutes later I am in unsupervised full blown rectal agony. My butt is reeling in pain, but I’ll admit it is a pain/pleasure. My currently absent Love has become a demon. I love it, even if it lasts only for today.

Earlier I had my bag scorched with Icy Hot. That was excruciating and concentrated. I wanted more than anything to have my arms free so I could cradle them. They were trapped, balls squeezed tight and squished in a bag too small for them, constricted by an unyielding vise that separated them from their beloved dick and body. Oh, would someone stop driving hot imaginary needles into them! And the involuntary natural yanking to get away and save them that occurred, worried me that I would tear actual tendons, or muscles, or whatever the connecting parts are that make the sack and testicles work. Then there was another irritant I had experienced in the past, Vick’s Vapor Rub, another mass-marketed product you see innocently advertised on TV, just like Icy Hot, as a helpful over-the-counter medical aid to make one feel better. While Vick’s produces nothing like the intense burn of Icy Hot, its active ingredients of camphor, menthol and eucalyptus oil are still substances that capture your attention. Let’s call it a thoughtful pain/pleasure tingle burning.

The ginger is falling somewhere in between. It warms and hurts at the same time. It also has a sharpness unlike anything I have felt before. Unlike those other irritants, the effects of the ginger built much slower so I could stay just ahead of it in my mental management. I could enjoy the pain/pleasure instead of fighting it, transferring the physical to mental, aligning it with the bondage resistance and sexual stimulation. It was also so my wife. She is into organic. Her eggs must be free range; her peanut butter is that ‘have to stir it before you use it’ stuff. She must love that I am being tortured by a root that she handcrafted into a plug and not something she took out of a jar from the drug store. I bet she even paid extra to buy ‘organic’ ginger root.

Because it’s slow to build, I find myself concentrating on it, anticipating. As it stimulates the receptors in the mucous membranes of my rectal canal, I think I feel the blood circulation increasing, one can’t, but mentally I am. I feel the pain migrating away from the root. It is noticeably hot in the neighboring parts of my body. It feels like a natural body reaction versus an outright assault that the Icy Hot produced. But there is no doubt about it, the pain and ache are real, and building. Aptly enough, I learned that figging means something like ‘firing’. And that’s what is happening to me now. This is not pleasurable, it's punishment. She has no real interest in abusing me. It’s my personal fantasy that she doesn’t understand, most wouldn’t. She is just trying to make me happy. It’s me and my twisted thoughts and wants that are punishing me at the moment. She is just the enabler. Pleasure pain and punishment play a major role in BDSM. I hope she is coming to some understanding of that. Not sure what the conversations between her and Mike were, but her more liberal and playful participation today seems like progress has been made. It has led to the game of pain and pleasure I am now playing in the darkness of my backyard, tied down for all to see who happens by.

Chapter 12: Ginger Dances in Rubber

My mistress wanders back about a half hour later. The ginger has already started its journey back down from the suffering it was causing just minutes ago. She sits down in the chair watching me. “Gee, I hoped you’d still be bouncing around on the ground. Was it a fun ride while I was gone? You know ginger is hard to find around here. I’m tickled that I found something new for you to experience that you didn’t know.” I then hear the sound of a vibrator. I listen closely, I can hear crickets, the sound of wind in the leaves of the trees, and my bride starting to breathe heavily. She is vibrating herself. I smile. After a bit of time, I believe she has achieved a climax. And that makes me happy.

Then she comes off her chair and starts playing with me. I’m sucked and rubbed, nipples played with, bodies rub together with hers on top of mine. She deep throats me, gets me to near climax and brings me back down multiple times. She fingers my butt, pushing on the exhausted ginger root that shares the space. And kisses, amazing deep, loving, sensual French kisses. I’m in sexual bondage heaven. I am being made love to by the one I loved, while being tied down the way I love. She is going crazy on me. She fucks me in both directions bouncing up and down. She takes her vibrator puts it against her clit as she rides me, forcing herself into a second and third orgasm while maintaining enough control to pull off me when I get too close.

There is a brief pause in the action as she dismounts me. She then rubs something up and down my hard and throbbing member, making it feel wet, seeming to go numerous times over the head and forcing it into the tip of my hole. “I thought you might want to try the ginger on your little man. No sense in wasting the extra,” she informs me. A flood of panic washes over me. I’m not sure what the shaft burn might be like, but I am petrified of what my urethra tip will experience. Simply getting a little soap in it when showering is a discomfort. She then opens a condom and rolls it over my coated cock. “It’s ribbed for my pleasure,” she boasts.

I’m remounted and the sex ride continues, her vagina protected from the irritant I wear. Her friction and the ginger root quickly become partners. My dick is burning and going nuts at the same time. Yet the pain keeps one step ahead of the climax build which prolongs my fucking for much longer than I am normally capable. Especially at this pace. She put vibration back into play, again using her tiny vibrator to arouse her clit and tease my shaft and balls. It is unbelievable sex of which I can only provide limited participation. That is, I kiss her back hard when she bends down and kisses me and I try to thrust my hips upward as she rides me. The extra effort coating of my tip is now paying off if making me suffer was the real intent. It is burning like hell. Weirdly that pain is distinctly separated from the sexual and pain/pleasure sensations on my shaft and in my head. My dickhead is stabbed repeatedly with waves of hurt just inches away from ecstasy on my shaft. My balls are grateful that they aren’t part of this current game.

When she has finally sexually satisfied herself, aided by the rubber ribs, vibration and my hard but aching cock, she gives me one final sensational ride, and I explode within her. She continues bouncing up and down till I am soft and ready to fall out. As she lifts off of me, she reaches under, gripping the rubber, so it stays in place. She then carefully removes it in a manner that assures none of my cum drips out. She then milks me a little, coaxing out a few more drops onto her fingers. Still feeling the burn at the tip and the heat in the shaft, I try, without success, to slip out of her grip as the overstimulation from the milking exasperates me. She reaches up and rubs the drops onto my lips. “Just a taste to tease you. You’ll enjoy the rest in a bit,” she warns. She climbs off me and she disappears again.

Chapter 13: Birthday Cake with Candles

This was a short trip up to the house and back. She has brought with her a birthday cake. My wife is an accomplished baker. The round cake has white icing. And it has colorful candles, not sure of the count. Six, seven, eight maybe. They are large, maybe six inches tall and over one-half inch in diameter. And they are all lit. She sits it down on my upper chest. “Happy birthday Toy,” and as she laughs tells me, “It is a ginger spice cake. I thought you would enjoy it now that you have a newfound love of ginger root. Make a wish and blow out the candles.” I try with a big breath to blow out the candles, but there is no way with the immobile angle I am at and the height and distance to the cake. “Oh, what a shame, you didn’t get your wish. I guess we’ll have to find another way of putting them out as they are so bright that I think you might be seen. Maybe that was your wish.”

“No ma’am, I don’t want to be seen,” I reply with nervousness as to what her next step will be.

“I would have never thought of this, didn’t even know couples did this. Your good old buddy brought it up when I talked about making the cake. It seems that it is not far from mainstream, maybe even part of mainstream sex play. So much so that I found the candles on Amazon advertised as romantic wax play candles for lovers couples. He thought it would be a great birthday theme punishment. I’m told they won’t burn you, but they will give you pain and pleasure. Let’s see.” And she pulls a white candle from the cake. She makes sure I get a good look and then tips it above my chest.

It immediately drips hot wax down onto my skin. It initially shocked me and made me jump. It was a burning sensation, but it didn’t burn. It was hot and I reacted like it. But the temperature of the wax seems low enough that it didn’t sustain itself as hot, but as warm, very warm. I was new to this. She dipped the candle again and another drop fell with the same result. Then another, then another and another. It gave my body and mind another pain and pleasure experience. A moderate one. She worked the candle so that the wax spread across my chest in dots. She then turned the candle, so it was almost upside down dripping a larger quantity of wax intensifying the result upon landing and she blew the candle, now half consumed, out. “One down, six to go Birthday Toy. Is it good for you, it’s good for me,” she snickers.

A second candle is taken from the cake, and this time the target zone is my belly button and surrounding skin. Multiple drips, not all in a row were dropped so that my navel was abundantly filled with hot wax before she extinguished this blue candle. The third candle, yellow, worked my shoulders. The fourth, green, and fifth, red, were applied to the area missed between the area of my chest and navel. Each drop or bigger pour still causes the body to react with a little movement, the bigger splashes a jump. She was taking her time, there was no rush, there was plenty of time to fill tonight. “Oh, we are almost done with the candles, only two still lit. I’ve seen to have neglected your nipples and privates. Let’s fix that.” I hadn’t noticed that she had not touched those areas as my mind was always on the initial pain sensations and recovery from where she was landing. Now I have a new concern, these are more sensitive areas, The nipples will be first, my privates the grand finale. It is tougher on my nipples than where she had already been. It feels hotter, burns a little longer, pain is a little greater. And that was for a few reasons, they are just normally more sensitive than skin is in general, they have been already abused today so they are still a tad tender, and three, she is holding the candle closer to me than before to improve her accuracy in landing the wax where she wants it. She used much more of this candle than the others.

Worse, but I’m fine. I’ll even admit it was exciting in the uneasiness, and therefore this was fun and wanted. It was then onto my privates with the last candle, a purple one. They were even more sensitive than the nipples due to past abuse and sexual use of the day, going all the way back to my initial shaving. She gave my dick the first drops and I could feel it making involuntary twitches as they landed. It was then onto my sack which had less tolerance to the attack and therefore a greater pain reaction, though still well within the pain to pleasure scale. “Oh, drat, this candle is almost done, and I’m not finished with my art project. Good thing I still have two unused candles,” she says amusingly. She picks up the two extras she had lying on the ground, lights their wicks with my last birthday cake candle, and blows that one out.

She then plays with them together, aligning them so the wicks touch, resulting in a much larger menacing flame. A bigger flame and twice as much wax makes for much grander and hotter drops. She dances with the candles together for a few moments then she moves them apart so that multiple drops are falling simultaneously. All on my privates and inter thighs. OK, so we are moving to the upper range of pain pleasure for the moment. She notices my much greater reactions and that I am trying to move my hips back and forth to avoid the onslaught of hot wax. “Gee if I only had a third hand for another candle, you seem to love this,” she teases. But she realizes that a limit is closing in and she stops. She brings the candles up close to my mouth and says, “Go ahead and blow them out, I’m giving you a second chance at making your next wish come true.”

I am unsuccessful again at extinguishing the candles, so she blows them out. I don’t know if she had made a wish and if what was next is what she wished for, but it was different and, in her mind, fun play. “Let’s have some birthday cake.” She cuts two pieces and then straddles my wax coated chest and sits down on me. She takes one cake plate and places it down on my upper chest. Then she showed me the used rubber I had recently worn. She upends it and while I can’t see well because of my neck bonds I can tell she is pouring it onto what is my cake slice. She makes sure every available drop is coaxed out of the rubber, squeezing it through two tight fingers. I see the ample amount that I had put in it dribble out and fall onto the cake. It now has a new icing.

She takes a plastic fork, scoops up a piece of cake that she knows is loaded and tells me to open wide. Just like an infant I will be fed my birthday cake. My cum and ginger flavored cake. The cake, like all her baked goods, was delicious. The cum icing, which was still noticeable, in contrast was not.

After the cake celebration, I was dewaxed with a butterknife and a few other kitchen utensils. The wax shock and pain were an almost forgotten memory, the wax removal being an uneventful passing of time. I was glad it was off my skin, but it was no issue being there either. She finished by wiping me down with a coarse wet sponge and dried with a kitchen towel. Mosquito lotion was reapplied to replace what was just lost in my cleaning. “I’m headed back inside to clean up and get stuff for your next adventure. You going to be alright here?”

“Yes Ma’am,” the respectful reply.

Chapter 14: Nature Takes Its Turn at Helping to Abuse Me

“I’m back. Did you miss me?” my bride asks upon her return.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“I don’t believe you, look, your dick is soft, it should be hard if you were thinking about me and my return. I think you would want me to punish him for it, and I don’t want to disappoint you on your birthday, so I will” she says with unexpected glee in her voice. My girl that did all this planning is emotionally in the game. She is also still dressed in her dominatrix outfit, so I assume, wrongly, that my cock is about to be whipped. She has something else planned instead. She has brought some items with her from the house. First is a battery powered lantern that she eventually places between my legs. She also has some kind of concoction in a jar. She decides I should know what it is.

“This is moth bait. I found the recipe online. It’s made from way-overripe bananas, brown sugar, molasses, and a little beer. I made it thin enough to spread, but thick enough that it won’t run off. I read it’s best if the mixture ferments for a few days and because you only deserve the best, I made sure that it has.” This is another example of how much planning and work she has put into my birthday gift, and with bondage play not being her thing, I’m surprised and pleased to think she is having fun with at least some of it as she is getting ready to do something unique and kinky or at least it seems that way. I am not fully clear about what she is about to do but I will find out quickly.

She smothers my cock and balls with the goop. She then puts the lantern up close to my sack and turns it on. “The light should attract moths and then they should go after the bait. I hope they will tickle the hell out of you as they seek the bait on your dick. To ease your mind, moths don’t have teeth or mouths, but they do flutter about. You should have some fun, I think. Then again, there was no mention in the article of what else this coating might attract. Shame you are tied down and can’t defend yourself. I’m going to be on the pool deck, reading. I would suggest you holler out if you need anything but then you might attract the attention of more than just me, so maybe you should just deal with whatever that shit entices. I think with all the work that went into this you should endure it for an hour. What do you think?” “Whatever pleases you, Ma’am” is a submissive’s appropriate reply and it is mine.

I don’t know what to think about this latest folly. I’m not thrilled about it, and a touch of anxiety sets in. I ponder on who might have thought up this moth stunt. It doesn’t matter. Not anything I can do about it but wait and see. It takes a little time, but the crazy idea works. Moths are attracted to the light. Our pool area is a natural lure, and it seems happy to share its population. And her magic sauce does its job too. They fly around and crawl over my dick. It does stiffen. They like my balls too. And it tickles, just like she suggested, in an annoying, irritating way, and it itches, and I can’t scratch it. The light also draws a small quantity of fireflies and some kind of flying beetles. These have prickly feet and mouths, they don’t just tickle me as they crawl over my coating. And all my visitors didn’t keep to just my dick and balls. They flutter and crawl up and down my limbs and torso and I have no capability of brushing them away. Exasperating, maddening. I just want to rub my arms and legs. A very creative form of abuse. I’m a submissive tonight; I am to take whatever amuses my mistress.

The moths have been teasing me for maybe a half hour when she comes back and says, “I can’t believe how well this is working. Are you OK? Do you need it to stop?”

“I’m OK Ma’am, thank you for checking on me.”

“Well OK then, let’s see if you can handle it for the whole hour or longer entertaining our flying friends” And she walks away again. I had lied to her trying to preserve the night. This irritating teasing of my skin is driving me nuts. It’s a severe form of tickling, a relentless bound tickling, the worst kind. I’m curious about what my state of mind will be by the time the hour is up. The butt electro-play she had served up is an abuse that I am used to from my recent BDSM experiences. The ginger burning in my rectum is now a memory other than the space the plug takes up inside me. This is different, its playful, inventive, mostly harmless quasi-sexual abuse that may well get the best of me. Well played girl.

I have no way of tracking the time, so I didn't know that the hour had long passed. I had the moths and other bugs pestering me for more than an hour and a half. I didn’t go insane, I hadn’t been visited by other animals, and the lotion has been keeping the mosquitoes at bay. I had survived by my own mind control blocking out the torment as I concentrated on the bondage and my fantasies. “Sorry I was late, but I got really interested in the book I was reading, and I had another call with Mike, he can be so chatty. Let’s get that sticky stuff off of you,” she says. She has a wet rag and removes the goop from my privates, and she turns the lantern off. “Let’s see if I got it all” she says as she goes down on me.

As I have said, she gives amazing blow jobs. And she is very good at maintaining control of me. She can bring me close to the brink numerous times, backing me down before resuming. I’m not abundant in size, like my good friend Mike is, and while he teases me about our compatible sizes, I’m not a shorty either. She can take all of me and is proud that she can deep throat me. I’m just not allowed to cum in her mouth and I have always respected that. “That’s enough for now. It’s past midnight and I wanted to do something special because it is now officially your birthday. I’ll be right back; I need to get something from the house.” It’s been one heck of a day and already a long night. And I assume it’s not going to be over for a while yet.

She returns and I see she has balloons, a lot of them, twelve to be precise. Large birthday themed helium filled mylar balloons. She must have been to the dollar store. She has them secure to a weight of some sort and sets them down beside me. “Happy birthday Toy!” She also has something else. “Do you recognize these?” she asks. I do; they are a pair of latching lockdown metal nipple clamps. They are a pretty severe set of clamps. You see them used a lot on heavy BDSM porn sites on women.

I respond, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Do you remember you gave them to me in our secret stocking for Christmas years ago? You were really excited to use them. It was back when you were still doing me, not me doing you. And for New Years you took me upstairs to the attic to play. You stretched me out, my arms over my head and my feet spread wide just like you were today. You put a leather hood and a blow-up gag on me. Another new accessory we hadn’t played with before. Then you put these on. You put strings on them and tied them off to hooks you had in the studs pulling hard on my crushed nipples. They were extremely painful when they went on and they were worse when you tied them off. You left them on till you were done vibrating me with a magic wand till I had a forced climax and then screwing me. You couldn’t tell I was in tears and pain because of the hood and gag. I hid the clamps afterward so you couldn’t use them on me again. I think you should try them, so you know what they feel like. Are you okay with that?”

I honestly never knew she had suffered. She doesn’t mind some pain/pleasure play but apparently, I had unknowingly gone way past that. What could I say but, “Yes Ma’am, I’m okay with that, it’s fair.”

She was dead right. These clamps are excruciating going on. They lock down hard on the nipples. Thankfully, she captured all of the nipple and some of the meat behind it on both sides. If she had caught just the tips it would have likely been unbearable. God, I hope that isn’t what had happened to her. What she did next was ingenious. She tied three of the balloons to each clamp, which pulled the clamps upright. She then tied four balloons to the tip of my dick, looping the ribbons around the shaft just below my dick’s head and finishing them off with a bow. It too was pulled skyward. “I was going to tie the last two balloons to your sack, but I think I’ll put one more balloon on each of your clamps.” And she did. My nipples numbed out quickly and the initial pain is mostly gone. The balloons on the other hand are swaying in the light breeze tugging not so gently on my hurting nipples.

I’m alone again. She has gone back to the house. This time for what seems like a substantial amount of time. I have had a long day. While my abuse has been certainly less than my BDSM experiences with the guys, being in bondage tied tight and straining against the bonds wears the body out. I noticed that the stars that were shining bright had begun to disappear as had the three-quarters moon that was lighting the sky when I was first tied down. There are clouds rolling in. And with the clouds there is a growing breeze. A breeze that blows against the balloons making them collide as they dance. More clouds, more wind. More tugging and twisting. This is abusing my nipples, I try to simply ignore it, but that is hard. My tired body wants to drift off to sleep but the balloon action is getting even more active and won’t let me. I hear some distant thunder. There’s going to be rain. Isolated rainstorms are common in North Carolina. They are often in the forecast. She knows there was to be one tonight and she adjusted her plans accordingly. For instance, she told me later that I was originally going to have the nipple clamps put on in the attic reenacting what was done to her. I was tied up the same way, but she decided the balloons, wind and rain would be more fun. She has returned. “I don’t think the lightning is going to bother us. We will play in the rain. I’ve changed into my bathing suit, so we’ll be fine. Well, I’ll be fine. You, not so much.”

It took a good twenty minutes to a half hour for the rain to come. The balloons were having a heyday in the winds, and my nipples and even my dick were suffering for it. This was far worse than the streamer that was tied to my dick when I was up the flagpole in Vegas. The lightning had gotten closer than I would have preferred. A lifeguard would have cleared the pool. I was pondering hard if helium mylar balloons draw lightning. The rain started lightly but then turned into one of our common North Carolina downpours. As I said, she knew all day that the storm was predicted. So, she was ready to abuse me with it too, as if the balloons being pelted by rain and blowing about wasn’t enough. She has brought our Jennings dental gag with her, has me open my mouth wide and then ratchets it until my teeth cannot close. Then she lays a cotton dishtowel over my face and tucks it in under my head which remains tent pegged to the ground. And she waits for the storm to do its thing. The sprinkles turn to rain, to a heavy downpour. As you can imagine, the cloth soaks up the water as it comes down and I am being waterboarded.

Unlike San Diego where this didn’t phase me. I’m starting to suffocate from the wet drowning effect of the cloth. I suck as hard as I can through the water-soaked cloth to breathe, but to no avail. What I pull in is vapor saturated air. The lungs revolt. I try to shake the cloth off, but my secured head won’t allow success. I don’t know it, but she is kneeling just above my head, watching me closely, when she thinks I am out of breath she lifts up an edge, giving me a needed breath before tucking it back in for another round. I think I suffered through five or six rounds before she grew tired of this and removed the cloth, still leaving the gag in so that I had the rain fall into my open mouth. She has tied me on a slight incline, but my still relatively flat position made my swallowing of the accumulated water difficult and so when she noticed I was stressed, she released the gag. “Thank you, Ma’am, I was starting to get into trouble there.”

The rainstorm passed by as is common here. My balloons are removed and re-tied to the weight she brought that held them when she first brought them down. They would be taken back inside and displayed around the house for the next week or two as a reminder of my birthday ordeal. Next off were the clamps. That was tough, they had been on for a long time, constantly being twisted and pulled as they held on tight to my nipples. Probably too long for the type they were. She was kind, gently massaging my aching nips. They will hurt for a while. The temperature has dropped. I’m not cold but not warm either as my wet body begins to dry. I worry about losing body heat to the ground. With all the rain and the water I drank before being brought outside, I need to pee badly. “Ma’am, I need to pee.”

“Toy, you’re a boy toy. Boys pee outside all the time. I’m not letting you up. Just pee on yourself or hold it. Your choice.” I decided to hold it.

She leaves with the balloons. I lay there thinking this is a good time to try to sleep, but my mind is active. I ponder the day; how wonderful it has been. How wonderful my wife was. I think of Mike’s participation. I know he helped. Bondage and BDSM isn’t his big thing either. I keep hoping this isn’t a one-time thing with my wife. I want her to have had enough fun to have a desire to do some of this a little more often. Or if it is only once a year for my birthday, do it on an equally grand scale as today.

I finally fall asleep. I’m not sure for how long but I wake up with a hard on and the urgent need to go. I was out of options; I couldn’t hold it anymore. And so, I peed. The way I was tied and with my dick still rigid, the pee went up and back down onto me and on the grass on both sides of each leg. She obviously had been sitting there watching me sleep because I was then immediately flogged across my privates with her saying, “You pig, peeing in front of me and all over yourself. No class, Toy. And I’m not cleaning you up, you’ll wear it until it dries.” Now, I am not in Vegas where the flogging would have been extremely intense. She was flogging me for real, but with a loving woman’s touch. The swings were easily absorbed with minimal pain.

“I still think he hasn’t learned his lesson. This might do it,” she tells me, setting the stage for my next adventure in the grass. She has my new electro power box and some of its accessories. This time it will be used on my cock. She is back on the phone and is getting instructions. First is about putting electro-bands around my shaft, one just below the head and one just above the base. I won’t be subject to random programing like I received inside. This time it will be a program specifically designed to excite the dick, bringing it up to near climax then zapping it back down into submission. Repeating this sequence over and over. The initial stroking program is amazingly stimulating, building slowly, but growing in glorious intensity. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my chest, my breathing rapid and shallow. Then bam, bam, bam and I have lost the excitement. We are back to ground zero. I am almost afraid that if I do climax, she will keep the program running and I’ll be milked and tormented into insanity with no way to stop it.

“It’s fun to watch you being taken to the brink, then denied. It is how I feel when you over vibrate me. Those wonderful feelings turn to annoying frustration and irritation,” she tells me. Her summation is on the mark. “I like that I don’t have to do any work and yet I’m getting credit for driving you up to total ecstasy and back down to misery. You make such funny facial expressions and body movements. It is like you are having a personal war inside, one moment you look like you are euphoric and the next moment fighting at your bonds like you are being tortured. Yet you keep coming back to a smile that looks like you have never been happier, that your inner soul is contented, happiness that I feel I’d be wrong to stop.”

In time she does stop it. Then steps away. I lay there trying to recover from my latest ordeal. I think that dawn will be coming soon when my thoughts are interrupted by a warm wet cloth being rubbed over my privates. “I’ve changed my mind; I want more sex with my bound Toy before sunrise and I’m not licking and fucking a urine covered body.” I get a nice hand bath. I also worry that my penis has been so over sensitized by the long electro stimulation session that her handling me will be agony. I again won’t have a choice. I am hers to be used sexually as she wants.

Chapter 15: A Final Birthday Toast

The warm wash of my privates helped restore their ability to participate and perform. I was to be taken like any man would want to be, bound or not, by a hot naked woman sucking their penis. Her bathing suit and other costumes are long gone. I was hard in an instant. The magic pill I was given at the start was still doing its job, helping to sustain an impressive erection for what was likely one last round. She was back to doing something she enjoys and knows, and she seemed into it. Having fun, being playful, driving my dick crazy the natural way. I can’t believe this late at night, make that early morning, that she could have the stamina after all that we had done to be going as fast and hard as she was. She even started talking dirty, not something she does. And it was both sexual comments and submissive derogatory rhetoric. I was so astonished and proud of her and her new free spirit.

She moved to fucking me and did that till I was about to burst and then backed down letting me recoup. She then showed that during her last hiatus that besides taking a shower she had once again, I believe, talked to Mike. I think that because she then made me do, to her, his favorite thing. That is, rim her. She didn’t have a rimming chair like was used on me in Vegas and San Diego, but she squatted over my face and told me to lick and suck her hole. I marveled at her just being able to say it out loud. She has always been skittish with me playing with my tongue on her little back hole. I’m not into rimming except with her, and that could barely be called rimming, more like light tickling of her hole with my tongue. Sir Michael knows I don’t want to do it with others, but despite that, he had forcefully taught me how to do it well on him.

So, with my tutored skills, I sent her to the moon with my tongue work. Easy work, she was freshly showered. She tasted good. When we have regular sex, she likes me fingering her butt hole while I lick her. She also likes me vibrating it, both on the surface and within her. Yet, in the past she would have considered the rimming to be taboo due to the perceived cleanliness issue. But as I said, I think Mike has talked to her and gotten her past her inhibitions. Him and maybe a little wine. I think she has found something new that she now loves.

After I did my duty for my mistress, she was back to sucking and fucking me. This became a long session, she kept me on edge while making me have euphoric feelings that for a change weren’t produced by electroshock or brutal torture from merciless vibration. She then says, “It’s getting close to daybreak. Your day in bondage is almost over. I’m going to finish fucking you and you’re going to eat your cum one more time. Then I’m going to give you one last surprise. Something you have been wanting for a long time. Mike has convinced me I should do it. I hope I can pull it off; I’m going to give it my best try, but success or failure, either way I’m good, it won’t upset me.”

My mind is racing, thinking of the things I have asked for in the past. So many things I have dreamed about she has given me today. At the moment I am at a loss. Besides she is back to making me hard by sucking and fondling me. Then onto giving me a fantastic final fuck made so much better because I’m outside in my backyard bound tight. And when I climax, I seem to fill her up. I didn’t think there would be a lot as I had gone so many times already in the past 24 hours. The downside is I know I am about to consume it all while battling with the normal post mental sexual shutdown of post ejaculation. When she turns around and places her pussy over my mouth, I ignore what is coming out and concentrate on giving her the best licking I could muster. I owe her. I sucked too, even more than I licked. One of the things I have done in the past is I suck on her urethra port. I do that in the hope that the pressure and suction will make her pee a little into my mouth. It’s one of my little kinks. I want her (not anybody else) to pee, just a little, into my mouth. It never works; it’s another one of her big taboo items.

Well, that is going to be her secret surprise. I’ve been sucking on her for a bit when she quietly, lovingly says, “Here it comes, Happy Birthday my toy,” and she lets go. Just a little at first but she is peeing into my mouth. Initially I was surprised, make that shocked, but I’m sucking hard, so she just naturally flows, trickles may be a better description, into my mouth and the sucking action I had been performing pulls it down into my throat. It’s easy to drink down, like sipping a little wine. I know the taste of piss, both mine and the boys. Each is different, so is hers. It’s very mellow. Very doable. She only went a little. I keep sucking like nothing has happened. “Do you want some more?” she asks.

I back my mouth off her to say, “Yes Ma’am.” I was going to add more to my statement but there isn’t time as a stream is already flowing into my mouth. I quickly press my mouth against her so that nothing leaks out.

Again, she doesn’t send me a lot, more than before, but still easily swallowed. My mouth never filled. I go back to licking her, in kind of a cleanup of her drippy urethra and now moist lips mode. I relish the experience, focusing on the new unique taste in my mouth. “Do you need more; do you want more?” she asks tentatively.

“I love what you just did to me, forcing me to drink your piss from your pussy. Ma’am, your toy will swallow as much of your pee as you wish,” I answer as submissive as I can sound. I must have said too much, too descriptive, mentioning me drinking down her pee.

“No, on second thought, I think I’m done with this for today, so that will be all you get of it, sorry. This was a big step for me and I’m not sure I’m okay with all of it yet, but I knew you really wanted this, so I tried. I took a lot of big first steps today. Most were good. This in a few minutes will likely be fine too. Some other things we will still need to talk about. But I had a good day, honest. I sure hope you did.”

“Oh Ma’am, this day rivals the day I met you, the day you married me and the days we had our kids. Not because of how much I enjoyed it but because you did it for me. You did it out of your love for me. Your unbelievable never-ending love for me. Oh, how I love you too, more than you could know!”

OK, so that was a little sappy, but it is what was said. It wasn’t the end of our play yet either.

“The guys suggested that I end this with a final whipping before I release you. They said a submissive’s bondage session should never end with sexual play that ends with a sub’s climax and ejaculation, a victory of sorts for the sub. So, you are about to be whipped. I will do my best to make it feel authentic. And I hope it shows that I love you. More than anything. Mike tells me whipping you is an expression of true love. I haven’t gotten that quite yet. I’m learning and I’m open minded. This is just another one of those steps that I’m taking, not understanding why it excites you, but not judging it either.”

I then receive a real whipping across my cock and balls, my inner thighs, chest, nipples and stomach with a leather flogger. She swung hard, many times, she left me reddened, striped. I was surprised she had it in her. And she was still not done.

She released the cargo straps, freeing my limbs and pulled up the tent pegs and I was pulled up right. I am then surprised when she locks my wrist cuffs behind my back and reattaches the chain to my ankles. I am stiff from lying on the ground tightly restrained for hours upon hours. But she has a hold of my dick, and she is pulling me to the house. “The sun is coming up very soon and you are naked and look at me. This isn’t a show I want to share with the neighbors,” she whispers.

We enter the house, and she leads me to the love seat that is in the sitting area of the downstairs suite, she leans me over the back of it and says, “The whipping outside was for you, this one is for me.” She shows me the paddle, smiles, and says, “I don’t know why, but doing this in particular excites me for some reason. I like seeing you jump even though you try not to, and I like how it makes your butt cheeks turn bright red.” She then proceeds to smack my butt cheeks five times each side, hard. Really hard. She then tenderly rubs my cheeks with her hand as she admires her work and says thank you. I’m released from my final bonds, told once again happy birthday, given a soft kiss and sent to take a shower.

Breakfast will be ready shortly.

Epilog

I took it easy for the rest of my birthday, enjoying a well needed nap in the afternoon. I heard from my kids and opened the presents they had sent in the mail. We went out for dinner at a favorite restaurant, came home and cuddled on the couch watching a movie on Netflix. It was nice. The next day I was stiff from the long-term bondage I endured. My hole was sore from the variety of uses it was put through and that lasted for a couple of days. My nipples were tender for at least a day, mainly from the clamps, I think. I had no stomach issues from what I consumed. No marks left behind from the wax or whippings. My butt cheeks recovered within minutes each time she had spanked them. It was all worth it.

Later in the week, the two of us had a long dinner conversation about my birthday. She proudly detailed out all that went into the decisions and planning. She said she was hesitant about reaching out to Mike not knowing what he would think. Upon further reflection she knew that he was the one person that knew about my bondage kink and that he knew that she and I had engaged in bondage play in the past. So, she called him. Mike is very approachable and has a very open and giving personality. And he likes to talk about sex. With my wife and him also being long-time dear friends, she was quickly put at ease during the initial conversation and was able to share what she wanted to do for my birthday. More importantly she was able to explain her desires to please me and express her apprehensions about if she could. He was able to overcome her doubts and, in fact, got her super excited about proceeding. She told me their first call was fantastic. He too thought what she was trying to do was perfect and wanted to help her succeed. Many calls followed.

During most of the planning my wife primarily talked to Mike. She did know and was ok with him conferring with others for ideas, dos and don’ts, etc. since he had told her his own bondage experience was limited. On one occasion, Mike arranged a conference call between her, Dr. D, his mate, and himself. It turns out that the mate’s discussions during this call were a sizable influence in taking the bondage and abuse play up a notch, maybe two or three. He was able to explain the submissive side of the equation. He told her why guys and gals like to be tied up, why extra tight can be a special turn on (like it is to me), why punishment, abuse, and being made physically vulnerable and unable to resist can be as euphoric and sexually gratifying to the person bound as romantic, loving, tender cuddly sex is to her. He even clarified why it’s best to have your lover (and not others) be the dominant in BDSM play, especially when the submissive is usually the strong one in the relationship. He also explained how these sessions can serve as therapy as it can release pent up stress in the submissive.

He was able to sway her concerns and trepidations because he was willing to share his own personal circumstances, bondage and submissive kinks and about how these are part of his loving relationship with DR.D. His own successful professional experiences, needs and wants, family, friends and relationships that he communicated paralleled many of mine. And so, his comments along with the general discussion by the three guys convinced her that what she was going to do to me was a very common sexual fantasy, it would be harmless and in my case likely a good healthy thing for me mentally, that it sounded to them that it was something I really wanted, and finally, that I was not a freak, sicko, demented or deviant for wanting this, nor would SHE be any of those things if her roleplayed of the dominant mistress produced some personal enjoyment or satisfaction for her.

Mike called me later in the afternoon on my birthday, checking on me, on her, and to take his bows for his participation. He said he loved working with her on her ‘project’. He had a blast. He said while he was always fond of her, he learned so much more about her these past two months and that I was so lucky to have her because she’s amazing. He’s right. He also assured me that all secrets were kept. She would suspect nothing from their interactions. He also indicated that in addition to Dr. D and his mate, at least four of the social club members offered suggestions. They sincerely wanted to help this novice mistress, and they also wanted to see that someone they consider ‘their submissive property’ be properly treated on his birthday. In other words, they wanted suffering to be part of my bondage because that’s what ‘I would want’. They succeeded in getting their ideas implemented. The Workmate vise holding my balls coated with Icy Hot is a perfect example.

So yes, the team was culpable for a lot of what happened, but it didn’t all originate with them. It turns out the moth and bait play was her idea. She thought it up, she researched it, designed, planned and implemented it with limited input from others. When she told Mike, he thought it would be a hoot and wished he had come up with it. The balloon nipple abuse was hers. Breakfast in her pussy and the menu was hers. Her outfit selections were hers. As were others.

Many of the ideas were a combination of individual thoughts put together. One of the boys had suggested the candle dripping because they are one of the tamer mainstream BDSM pain/pleasure games; and therefore, would be more palatable to her. Another suggestion was to make me eat my cum out of a condom. She was planning the birthday cake, thinking I would eat it after she smeared it onto her pussy. In time these ideas combined and developed into what occurred, the birthday cake with cum and candles.

In my past journals I was required to report my likes and dislikes, so why not do the same thing here. I liked the vise grip bondage. I didn’t like the Icy Hot on my balls. For the record, the height of the window, along with the pushed back position of the Workmate were such that only my upper body and not my naked privates or bondage were visible from the front yard. She set it up and checked it beforehand. I liked the outside bondage. I didn’t like the harsh nipple clamps and the balloons twisting and pulling on them. As an aside, my wife and I have both agreed to dispose of the clamps. I liked having to lick her pussy when bound. In contrast, back in Vegas when I would be forced when bound to suck cocks, I disliked the act, but being unable to resist made it a fulfilling release for me. I much prefer having pussy to suck when bound as it is both sexually fulfilling as well as an avenue for stress release. And hers tastes so good.

I did not like the moths. They and their friends before long became irritating and frustrating, and my bondage would not allow any way of stopping it. As I said, they didn’t keep to my dick and balls. They fluttered and crawled up and down my limbs and torso. So much more than annoying and exasperating, giving me the willies at an unimaginable level. And it went on too long. I’ll grant that it was inventive, but I rather not be subject to it again. Ever again. I had told her I was ok, but I had lied because she had seemed excited about this abuse. She would not know how close I got towards the end to calling out my safe words to stop it all.

I liked the paddling. Not sure why, it is just a more satisfying and consistent way of being punished. Plus, the butt cheeks are built to handle it. It’s like justice tempered with mercy. She confirmed in our conversations that she did get a real kick out of paddling me too. She couldn’t explain why either. I guess it was a deep-seated connection to spankings in her early childhood. Maybe for me too.

Of course, I loved being wrapped in the shrink wrap. I liked being stimulated by the electroshock most of the time. I liked in general being bound outside. The punishments made the time past, but as indicated the moths and tit torture I could have done without while I was there. I liked her dressed in her dominatrix outfit. Her virgin outfit was an equal turn on. One of the things I initially didn’t mind was the full body shave, a suggestion that originally came from Dr. D’s mate. In fact, it was something different, somewhat pleasant and scary too, she was yielding a straight razor around my privates. My dislike for it manifested itself two or three days later when nubs became an ongoing annoyance. Turns out the shave was by far the most long-term physical reminder of my glorious birthday.

I was concerned about how she felt about things she did to me. Turns out there was only one thing that really bothered her badly. The ass to mouth play with the dildo that she used to peg me. She confessed it grossed her out big time, especially since she knew it was soiled. That bothered her and she thought it was a gay thing. I did ease her mind that there are many more porn videos out there with women doing ass to mouth blow jobs than men on men. Somehow that helped her. She suggested we don’t do that again. I reminded her that when I’m bound and can’t resist, she can do or not do anything she wants to me and I’m ok with that, it’s part of the allure, the fantasy. That clarification seemed to make the whole thing go away. I should note that she had mentioned early on that she had a soiled tampon in the freezer for me. It was never used in our play; I assume for the same “gross’ reason.

She also didn’t like peeing in my mouth. She shared that I had asked her to do it more than once when we had played in the past. She gave in and did it because the team all believed she should and encouraged her. Dr. D in their conversation apparently pushed it as one of the basics of dominant/submissive training and was key to my submissive fantasy. I know that this kind of punishment/abuse is one of his things, he’s done it to me, and he wouldn’t want her to miss her chance in being a real dominatrix abusing her sub. She admitted to me afterward that it was not traumatic to her, seemed to excite me, and would maybe do it again if the mood and circumstances were right. It definitely is on my ‘liked list’. Also, not on her favorites list was me licking the toilet bowl and pushing my head in it. She said it was acceptable simply because she had sanitized it before we played (it was planned all along, another one of Dr. D’s contributions). That I was licking up and drinking my own urine didn’t seem to bother her. Curious.

Our discussions that night at dinner and a couple of subsequent ones centered a lot on how she feels about what we did. She says she is completely ok with it, while in the past, admittedly, she was not. In fact, she is delighted at how it all worked out. She is thrilled that I got exactly what I wanted for my birthday and then some, which was her goal. Is she now an enthusiast, looking to make bondage a part of our regular sex life, no. She does have a much better understanding of my enjoyment of it. She also gets how it serves as a stress outlet for me. The good thing is that her own stress and apprehensions of it are basically gone. She understands the relationship between the bondage, the sexual use, and the punishment aspects of the play. She did indicate that she did have fun in the different ways I was bound, especially the outside bondage. And when she engaged in delivering punishment, she was at least ok with doing it when previously that was not the case. I was quick to point out the delight she seemingly had in paddling me. She then agreed that serving up punishment in general in any future bondage play will likely not be an issue, especially if she thought her bad boy needed paddling. The dirty dildo being the only exception to her punishment choices, at least for now.

She always loves it when I lick her, or she sucks me, or we have intercourse during normal sex. She said that when I was bound and we did those things she just closed her eyes, ignored the surroundings, and was able to enjoy her arousal as usual. It was clear to me from that; bondage is still not her thing or even an emerging turn on. She did assure me that she doesn’t mind it, she understands my enjoyment of it, wants to do it for me, she can even have fun with it, but it just does not excite her at the same level as me. The good news, she did say there was enough pleasure and gratification in what she did, that I should look forward to more of it. I understood that she didn’t mean I should expect her to do it every weekend. We were not in negotiations, but she did offer to play ‘my way’ more often than once or twice a year and she would even at times initiate it as a surprise. She even said she wanted me to ‘do her’ on occasion as long as I kept it simple and not tight. She let it slip that she hoped my next birthday could be better than this one but likely to make that happen she’d have to solicit help with the ideas again. Oh wow.

And it was all because she loves me…