Whatever You Want

by The White Knight

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© Copyright 2002 - The White Knight - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; D/s; lingerie; bfold; bond; gag; bdsm; wax; nipple; susp; tease; torment; toys; insert; oral; anal; climax; cons; X

(Despite what the story claims this is a work of fiction, however it is much more fun if you read it as if it were true.)

Numerous times in the past he has asked me to relate this event and just as many times I have refused him. Personally I don’t think it is anyone else’s business, but so be it. The reason he was so insistent that I write it, is that one night I told the story to him as if he had not been there at all. He didn’t say anything during my entire rendering of the event and the only way I knew he was listening was that his breathing became more and more shallow (which was my original intention... I was trying to get him in the "mood" after he had had a hard day at the office). When I was finished, actually after we were finished, he told me I had to write this story. Well he has finally gotten his way... So here goes.

Whatever You Want...

It was one of those rare days when everything just falls into place. We had left the kids with my mother in-law for the afternoon and she called to say that they were having such a good time why not just let them sleep over for the night and pick them up in the morning. This meant that we had the house to ourselves for the entire afternoon and evening! Smiling like mischievous teenagers we ran up to our bedroom, stripped as fast as we could and got down to business. It may have been a quickie, but it had also been a goodie!

As we lay resting in each other’s arms, I asked my husband, "What would you like to do for the rest of our day?"

He responded, "Oh I have a few very definite ideas.... as long as you’re willing?" He ended the remark with a question in his voice. He’s a good man and I realized right away he was asking for some kinky sex time, but at the same time leaving me an out if I didn’t feel like it.

I flicked my long curly hair over my shoulder and gave him my best Cheshire cat smile, "Darling whatever you want is just fine with me". His blue eyes glittered with desire and lust; he kissed me full on the lips and started to dress.

"Andrea", he said.” If I were you I’d take a little nap for a while, because I know you are going to need all of your energy soon. While you do that I am going to go prepare a little fantasy fest". Down the stairs he went, leaving me to my own devices. I took the time to shower and dry my long curly hair. Then I did as suggested and laid down to rest.

About half an hour later, he returned. He was dressed very stylishly, all in dark colors. He wore a black blazer, a dark charcoal gray shirt and black pleated pants. Looking over at me expressionlessly he did not say anything for what seemed like a long time. "Is this how you greet your master, slave girl?", he finally asked. His voice was hard and strong and I knew he was deep into his role. I quickly leapt out of the bed and scurried to kneel on the floor before his feet. Naked as a jaybird I knelt there, with my knees together and my butt resting on my heels. My hands were demurely folded on my knees and my eyes were fixed on the floor in front of his feet. "That is much better, my darling slave", he said softly. At the same time, he reached down and cupped my chin with his right hand. He gently raised my head so that I was looking up at him and the sealed envelope he waved in his left hand. "You will take this envelope and do exactly what the instructions inside tell you to do. Nothing more and nothing less. Do you understand?", he asked.

"Yes, master", I responded taking the envelope and lowering my eyes once again. Without another word he turned and left.

I could not wait to open up my instructions to see what he had in store for "his slave". But first I had to stand up. Heck, that hard wood floor is tough on the knees. I closed the door to the bedroom and opened the envelope. Inside was a laser printed listing of the outfit, in detail; he wanted me to wear for the next part of our encounter. There was however, no mention of what was to occur during this encounter.

Opening the bottom door of my dresser, I removed the black and red ribbed corset. Placing the soft silky satin around my body I snapped the hooks in the front together. There were laces in the back, which would need to be tightened further, but the fit even now, was a snug one. This does not mean that I am heavy or out of shape, just that this garment was exactly what its name implied... a corset. Truthfully, as I looked in the mirror over my dresser, I felt pretty proud of my figure. No I am not Cindy Crawford, but after three children and 30 years, I was still sporting a 36-25-37 figure. I wouldn’t mind being a little taller, as I am only 5 foot 4, but I was happy with my weight at about 125. Cupping my breasts I re-seated them in there half-cup satin settings. A dark half moon from each nipple showed over the thick red satin. The cups were actually designed to work like a push up bra and they did their job admirably, showing off quite a bit of my cleavage. Next I slid on a pair of black silk panties. They were not the original satin g-string type panties that had come with the corset, but were equally if not more, interesting, as they were crotch less. Actually, if I kept my legs together you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were crotch less, but then again I don’t think my husband / master was planning on keeping my legs together tonight.

From the top draw, I removed red stockings. I expertly rolled one and slid it over my arched foot and up my calf, gently unraveling the nylon hose until it reached its limits at mid thigh. I did the same to my left leg and then attached the six garters of the corset to the tops of the stockings. These were composed of a three-inch band of lace with little black ribbons circling each top. I turned and backed up towards the door, so that I could make sure that my seems were straight in the full-length mirror. I smoothed and straightened the stocking and seems at the same time by bending full over and grasping my left ankle, then using my skilled hands I gently and caressingly followed the silky smooth nylon path up my calf and over the knee and finally to my thigh. I finished this process on the other leg. Although I was very happy with the way the stockings looked, I still frowned at the mirror.

Going to the closet I retrieved the next item on the list, spiked heel black patent leather pumps. I slid my foot down the pumps steeply arched sole and shimmied my toes into their tight pointed confines. The second shoe followed quickly. Then I tottered back to the mirror. I turned and looked over my shoulder so I could see myself from the rear. This time I smiled at the sight. High heels may be one of the most uncomfortable forms of footwear known to woman, but there is nothing like them for making a short woman’s legs look longer and shapelier.

My heels now rested a full five inches off the floor. This, as I alluded before, made my legs appear much longer. The muscles in my calves were flexed perfectly, rounding out the proper curves of my legs. Black five-inch spike heels flowed into the red roadway of my seamed stockings, forming a V aimed right at the center of things. Jeez I was getting hot just imagining what my husband / master would be thinking when he saw me in this costume! I took a deep breath and turned back to the list.

From the back of my dresser drawer, hidden from prying eyes, I took out an old fashioned black choker, complete with an ivory cameo. I placed it about my throat and buttoned the three fastenings tightly behind my neck. Looking in the mirror and fingering the cameo, I remembered seeing it in an antique shop and saying to my husband, "Isn’t this a wonderful choker". He smiled at me and said, "With the appropriate modifications it will be". My fingers drifted down to the shinning brass D ring below the cameo. Yes, I had made those changes myself. I am quite good with a needle and thread and I had added the three small brass D rings so skillfully that they looked like they had always been there. This formed a very beautiful and effective collar. I began to get hot... horny even, for my husband / master. He could easily have requested that I wear that four-inch thick heavy leather collar that he was so fond of (that thing rubs the bottom of your chin raw, forcing you to always keep your head up), but no he had selected this choker.

A narrow box in the same drawer provided me with above the elbow black satin gloves. I had this type of glove in black, red and white, but he had stipulated in the instructions black. I placed these on the dresser, knowing that I couldn’t apply my makeup with them on. The instructions had even outlined this process, although not in as much detail as my garments. Just that he wanted me to wear full make up, eye shadow, mascara, blush and flame red lipstick. This color isn’t the best for my Irish white skin tones, but it did match very closely with my corset. Besides he is the master and his wish is my command.

I finished this process and slid on my gloves. Following the next command, I donned a black floor length wrap from one of my peignoir sets, I suppose, to shield myself from unwanted eyes. This made sense, as I did have to pass a number of windows prior to entering my masters’ sanctum (the living room) that I had been instructed to do upon completion of dressing.

As a last precaution I walked back and forth across the bedroom floor practicing walking in my sky-high heels. Walking in spike heels, properly, is an art. Unfortunately for me it was one I had grown unaccustomed to, as I hardly ever wore even three-inch heels anymore. Generally I wear flat soled or low-heeled shoes or sneakers to keep up with the needs of our family. So back and forth I went, the wooden floor resounding with the click of my heels. Setting the heel down just slightly before the toe was the lesson to be remembered. I wobbled a bit, but then remembered to keep my toes pointed straight ahead and not fall into the trap of splaying them outward like a duck. As I gained confidence I even worked a little at putting a pleasant sway into my hips. I smiled to myself.

Feeling as ready as I would ever be, I opened the door and proceeded down the stairs to the living room. The opaque French doors that opened into that room were closed. Taped to one of the doors was a manila envelope. I opened it and read the small white card that was enclosed, "Put this on. Knock on the door." was all it said. I took the black satin night mask (blindfold) from the envelope and slid it into place over my eyes. The elastic strap buried itself into my curly auburn locks, tightening the black material over my eyes. I knocked as instructed and felt the double doors before me open.

I felt my master fingering the center "D" ring on my choker. Then I heard a metal snap and could feel the slight weight of a leash. I knew that leash well, as it used to belong to a toy poodle that we no longer owned and now had found a new way to be useful. He tugged lightly on my tether, leading me into the room. He walked me around the room in a circle. He was probably watching every move that I made, making me happy that I had taken the extra time to work with my heels. As I got used to walking blindfolded, I began to exaggerate the sway of my hips. I could feel my translucent black wrap rub my milky smooth hips as I moved. That sound that everyone knows of material rubbing against material filled the air, even over powering the soft classical music playing in the background.

As if reading my mind my master stopped me, with both a firm hand and a slight jerk on the leash. He removed the black gauzy wrap as if he were taking a fine mink from a lady, gently yet firmly. Again he led me in a circle about the room, the leash always maintained just that little bit of pull without being overly uncomfortable. Finally he stopped in the center of the room and I could feel the leash fall loosely to my side. Until he spoke I could not tell where he had gone or what he was doing as the floor was covered with wall-to-wall carpet. When he spoke I knew he was standing a short distance in front of me, maybe six or eight feet.

"You will do everything I command of you of you slave, is this correct?" he asked.

"Yes, master", I answered quickly, but slowed my speech and added a sultry tinge to my voice. "I will carry out your each and every request and it will please me to do so".

He paused a minute before responding with a rye sarcastic tone to his voice, "We will have to see about that slave". He continued in a more informative voice, "I will not tell you what I have planned for the remainder of this day, but if you have any questions ask them now".

I thought for a moment and said, "I know not to use your real name in this encounter master, but is there any other name you wish me to refer to you as. Or have you another name you would like me to respond to?" When we role-play we sometimes take on different names and or personalities. I truthfully was hoping that his response would give me a general idea of what I was in for tonight.

"You may refer to me as either Master or Fellows" he spoke softly and firmly. "And I will refer to you as either slave or Lady Andrea". My heart fluttered and my stomach dropped. He had only role-played "Fellows" once before and that was the most grueling and difficult bondage encounter I had ever had. After that experience, I had to ask whom this "Fellows" person was that he had created. He told me that Fellows was a mythical English Butler, who traveled through out Victorian England meeting out severe punishments, to naughty wives and unruly daughters.

Hesitantly I asked, "What am I charged with?"

I could feel his eyes burning through my blindfold, as he responded, "Inadequate performance of your wifely duties". Whew, this was going to be a rough one. Maybe not as bad as the time before, when I had been accused of infidelity, but I knew that using Victorian England standards this charge was only slightly less severe.

I lowered my head to acknowledge my servitude. I knew that only exact compliance would earn me any type of reprieve from the harshness of the events that were about to unfold. "What would you have me do master?", I asked demurely.

"First we will have to make sure that you are adequately able to follow orders", he said softly. "As of course a proper wife should."

"Spread you legs and bend over at your middle, resting your hands on your knees", he commanded. I did as instructed, quickly but as gracefully as possible. I knew that I was in a perfect position for a paddling, but I was confused because his voice was still coming from in front of me. I stayed in that position waiting. I felt, rather than heard, him move next to my side. I soon knew what he had in mind as I felt the straps on my corset begin to tighten. I was so concerned with everything else that was going on that I forgot that those laces had not been properly fastened. I could feel his progress as he worked his way down from the top with the first set of those damning cords. Tighter and tighter the straps were drawn. Halfway thought this process, he stopped and gave me a couple of minutes to get used to the tightness.

Resuming, he continued his ministrations. A final mighty yank, while using one hand to hold my back down, signified the completion of his work. "Ooooohhhhh", I exclaimed unintentionally, as the air was pushed from my lungs. The corset was so tight that I was sure that my breasts were going to pop out from the pressure! I felt his hands encircling my waist, as he checked his work. "Ah", he said. "Your waist has been reduced to a mere 22 inches and you accepted your lot quietly and serenely. I can safely say that this was a perfect administration of the classic corset." I smiled and relaxed a little this was high praise indeed from him and so early into the encounter... Oh, oh what is he covering up, I wondered.

Again I could feel him walking around toward the front of me. I heard him sit down. Probably in one of the wing backed chairs that looked so much like mini thrones. "Remove your gloves", he said. I did so quickly, dropping them on the ground before me. "Now, my dear I would like you to put your hands between your legs and finger yourself." I did not move right away, but realizing my mistake I began to slowly move my hands towards my vagina. The other shoe, as they say, had fallen. Generally, as you may have guessed, I will do just about anything. My unconditional exceptions were any type of group sex, animals or exhibitionism. There are certain things, however, that I really abhor and playing with myself was on the top of my list.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed my fingers between the smooth silky fabrics and began to softly stroke my clit. I wasn’t penetrating myself. I was only rubbing the balls of my fingers over my mound. Even so, the atmosphere was so sexually charged that I couldn’t help but feel the heat build between my legs. I could feel my face relax and heard a small moan escape my lips. In the back of my mind I sort of registered the fact that somehow, being blindfolded, was actually making this easier for me.

"Please put you fingers into your lower region and play with your G-spot", Fellows commanded.

I had forgotten that he was sitting right in front of me, which gave him a perfect view of my upwardly thrust cleavage and the hands between my legs. My fingers slid easily into the now wet entrance to my vagina. It was an easy chore to find that little flap of skin inside of me that was the so-called G-spot or sweet spot. I began use my digits to play with it and soon I started to feel warmer all over. My breathing was becoming ragged; due to my excitement level and partially the tightness of my corset. "Oooowwww. Ooooowww. Ooooowww", I moaned deeply. I started flicking my fingers more and more quickly over my sweet spot. "Oooohhhhh... OOOOOHHHH.... OOOOOHHHHH", I moaned louder and louder and louder as I came closer and closer to climax.

"Stop completely, right NOW", Fellows said loud enough to be heard though my moaning.

"Nnnnnoooooo", I shrieked without thinking.

"What did you say slave?", he said so quietly and menacingly that I almost missed it.

Immediately, I realized what I had done. I stopped all movement and gushed, "I am sorry master. Forgive your poor slaves stupidity. I beg for your forgiveness master."

The silence was laden with menace, even the classical music playing seemed more like a dirge than the normal light selection.

"You are not forgiven, but I will hold you punishment in abeyance, until the end of this evening. If you can manage to get through the rest of the day without another slip up, perhaps... perhaps I will let this indiscretion slide."

"Now take your hands out of your pussy and lick off all your own juices", my master commanded. This was another of my least favorite things. As far as I was concerned male cum, while being thicker and saltier was much preferable to its more acidic female counterpart.

To make up for my earlier gaff, however, I quickly brought my hands up to my face and began to lick them clean. As I finished licking off each digit, I put that finger full into my mouth and swirled my tongue about it. Then I pulled it out with an exaggerated sucking motion, all of the time working hard to make those slurping, sucking and licking sounds that accompany a blowjob. I knew that this was particularly pleasing to my husband / master, so I really played it up. I finished with a last loud lick and let my hands return to my knees.

"Very, good slave Andrea", my master informed me. "Now return to a straight standing posture."

I did as instructed, not as gracefully as I would have liked as I swayed a little due to my high spiked heels. I regained my balance as I brought my legs back together and folded my hands demurely over one another below waist level. I could feel the leash hanging in front of me as its gentle swinging motion touched the back of my hands.

"Take the your leash and use it to whip your butt and thighs", he commanded me. The leash was made of white leather about three quarters of an inch wide. It wasn’t very long, but it was a least five feet or so, which when I grasped it from waist level gave me plenty strap to use in my self-flagellation. I could not of course see, but through feel and my own imagining of the picture of where the leash / whip should land; I landed a perfect first shot. The double slap of the leather loop handle could be heard loudly as it burned into the split of my cheeks. "Eeeewww", I gasped, as I surprised myself with the intensity of my own stroke. I swung again. I could feel the leather wrap around my upper thigh just before the explosive crack of the lash as it slammed into my rear end.

I am not an expert on whippings. In fact this was one of the few times that it had been used in one of our encounters. Therefore I had never taken the time to think on what a perfect lash that this leash would make. If the loop of the handle hit just right, it was like getting hit twice at the same time, hence the double crack. While not very wide it was still made of heavy thick leather and was therefore quite effective.

Crack. The lash landed again. This time on my right, the far, buttocks. Every time the whip landed I sucked in breath, which made an elongated hissing sound. “Hiiiisssssss", then Crack. I could feel myself tensing my buttocks each time and I could feel the heat on my cheeks building. I had been swinging methodically, but not quickly. Giving the lash a little more or less length each time so the pain would switch from cheek to cheek. I was sure that my firm cheeks, under my tight black silk panties were probably no longer white, but pink!

I had lost count of how many times I had smacked myself when finally my master said, "You may stop now". I let out a long sigh and let the leash hang loosely from my hand. I could feel him walk around me; he moved the black material off of one cheek at a time as he inspected my work. "Very good", he informed me. "I see by these bright red weal’s on your posterior that you have not been slacking".

"Spread your legs slave", he commanded. I did so spacing them about eighteen inches part. "Further", he said. Emphasizing his point with the slap of his powerful hand to the inside of one of my legs. I opened my legs as much as I could without falling off of my heels, so my feet were probably spaced a little over two feet apart. I felt his hands gently caress my ass cheeks, then move down to my vagina. Unfortunately, he did not dally there. He merely pushed the silken material away from my mound so it was entirely uncovered. Again I felt him walk past me and heard him sit down on the chair before me.

"Whip your sex", he said simply. This time I balked. Never had I been whipped there. I had seen it done in a couple of the very few S&M videos, which I had, let my husband / master talk me into watching. In none of those scenes had the women enjoyed this treatment, in fact it had looked down right painful.

"Please, master can you be more specific", I asked pleadingly. He knew I was looking for a reprieve, but this time it did not come.

"Choke up on your leash and slap the handle very quickly against your sex", he expounded.

I continued to balk, but to cover this I said, "I truly don’t understand how you wish me to whip myself, master Fellows. Please explain further." I knew my master was getting upset, so I continued, "I will do what you command, but I truly do not understand".

"Hold the leash at the beginning of the looped handle", he instructed as calmly as he could. I moved my right hand as instructed. "Waggle the handle upward and downward", he continued. I did so and I could feel the six-inch long double loop of leather go in the proper directions. "Use both hands to make it quicker", he finished. I did so and quickened my pace. "Very good", he said softly. "Now whip your sex".

I reversed my grip on the leash handle, so that now it was pointing back towards me. Slowly I lowered the lash into position, feeling my way down my left thigh and between my legs with the stiff leather handle. I flinched as my search finally found its mark as the whip just barely touched my lower lips. I knew now that I had the proper range and positioning. I lowered the handle downward and began slowly waggling it. I gathered all of my resolve and quickened my pace to match that which I had reached before. I could feel the breeze of the briskly moving whip on my exposed mound. Despite the fact that my satin mask blinded me, I still gripped my eyes tightly closed. I could feel myself tensing every muscle that I could as I slowly, deliberately moved the quickly flicking leather upwards. Finally not being able to take the pressure of the waiting anymore, I jerked my hands upward. The first crack of the leather onto my unprotected sex, sounded like a rifle shoot.

At first, I guess because of the shock, I didn’t feel anything. Then I did feel it! A loud pained, "OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW", escaped my lips. My whole body jerked upwards from the blow. Somehow I managed to continue the quick motion, slamming the stiff leather up against my tender lips again and again and again. I found myself precariously balanced in the toes of my shoes only. The pain had literally blasted me out of the heels of my shoes, as my body coursed upwards trying vainly to escape the punishment that I was inflicting upon myself. In a far off way I could sense my precarious situation and knew that my ballet training as a youth was the only thing keeping me still on my feet.

“OOOOOoooooWWWWWWwwwwww", I continued to wail louder and longer. The pain was so intense that I had lost all sense of what was going on, I couldn’t even think enough to stop myself from continuing to lash my poor abused sex. After what seemed an eternity, I felt a strong hand push down my wildly out of control appendages. "You may stop now", said my master in a quavering voice. Even he seemed to have been effected by my performance.

As my senses returned I dropped the leash from exhausted shaking hands. My body all of a sudden went limp. I would have fallen to the floor in a heap if my master had not scooped me up in strong arms. I moaned softly as I buried my head in his chest. My husband / master sat down as he soothed me like a small child. Running his fingers through my hair and saying those soft comforting words that we use on our children when they have been hurt. I am not sure how long we remained like that. All of a sudden I realized that I had almost fallen asleep as I felt my husband / master surge upwards out of the chair with me in his arms.

He carried me a short ways and deposited me on a table like surface. I could easily determine that he had laid me down on the dinning room table, because the classical music was louder (the stereo is in the dinning room) and because we had not gone far enough to be in the kitchen. I was in a sitting position on the table, with my hands on either side of me. I could feel that the white cotton tablecloth was in place, but I could also feel that a thin mattress had been added beneath the material. Curiosity made me push down on the mattress and allowed me to deduct that it was one of the foam egg crate type palettes, which we used for overflow guests.

"I think you are in need of a well deserved rest Lady Andrea", my master informed me. He placed black satin gloves in my hands adding, "Please put these back on". I did so. "Now, if you would be so kind as to roll over on your stomach, I will make you comfortable in my own personalized way". I could feel his hands guide me into a lying down position in the center of the table. He then pulled each of my hands behind my back. I felt a double loop of rope encircle my satin-sheathed wrists. The rope, probably our standard white nylon type, was wrapped around my wrists another couple of times and then passed between my hands, tightening the ropes so that they pressed the fabric of my gloves hard into my soft flesh. I wiggled my hands slightly, proving that I was both securely bound and that my circulation had not been cut off.

Next a similar double loop was applied to my legs, just above the knees. More rope was wrapped around them as they were pulled inexorably drawn together. He had to force up though my legs to complete his figure eight this time, but he did so with ease. I knew that this particular place on my body was especially pleasing to my master. He has told me numerous times that he loves to see the contrast in colors as the white rope covers the red stockings. Also above the knee and around the thigh are thicker and sturdier parts of the leg, allowing him to really tighten the ropes so that the loops dig deeply into my smooth supple flesh.

Raising my ankles off the table, so that my legs were bent at the knee, perpendicular to the table, he began to work on my ankles then something changed his mind. His hands fingered my black pumps. They had become loose on my feet, without my weight to keep my foot arched into the high heels; the heels were nearly ready to pop off of my feet. I was not in anyway trying to dislodge them, despite their discomfort, but my feet were finding it hard to maintain the necessary arch.

"Hmmmm", my master intoned. "These shoes do not seem to want to stay in place. I suppose that I could bind them in place with some cords, but you are supposed to be resting...Hmmmmm". He left his thought unfinished. I heard the doors open and close as he left the room. I did not try to escape or change my position in anyway though, because I knew that he might be testing me. He may not have even left the room, but only made it sound that way.

He returned shortly, with an opening and closing of doors. I felt him remove my patent leather heels and heard them placed on the table. Soon I felt soft supple leather being slid onto and around my feet. He pulled the leather slipper down over my heel and ran his hands over it to make sure that it was securely in place. I wiggled my toes in pleasure. Judging by my outfit colors I could bet that these were my black leather slippers. They were flat soled, soft and yummy with a little bow at the mouth of the slipper. The second slipper was slid into place and I gave a little smile. My master finished off his work on my ankles, with more of the nylon rope surrounding my red-sheathed gams.

My master is a master of rope work and very meticulous about making his ties neat, effective and as he has told me many times, pleasing to the eye. I knew, without seeing them that his ties would represent figure eight’s. Four to six cords surrounding the appendages to be bound and two strands pulling their brethren tightly together to form the center of the eight. Always with the final tie being made out of sight, so that only the taped wrapped ends of the nylon rope showed.

Lifting my middle off the table, I felt him add an cinch rope to my waist. With a little effort he threaded the ends of the rope between my upper thighs and then slid it under the rope in the middle of my back. As he tugged on the rope, I could feel the twin strands dig into my abused lower mouth. Grasping my legs at the ankles my master guided them back towards my rear end. Using the remainder of the rope he lashed my ankles to the crotch rope. When he released the pressure that he had applied while holding my ankles in place, the real trial started. My ankles pulled away from my butt of their own accord. I could feel the waist rope on my back pulled downward as the ropes across my sex tightened. “Oh, damn” I swore softly.

He wasn’t finished with me yet though, as I felt him bind my wrist and ankles together. This position, for the uninitiated, is called a hog-tie. Unexpectedly I felt my wrists and ankles being raised towards the ceiling. He must have put a rope through the chain links that held up the chandelier. He stopped just when I could start to feel the strain in my shoulders. It was not painful just a touch uncomfortable. What it meant though was that my so-called rest time wouldn’t exactly be restful. I couldn’t even roll onto my side, which was my first plan when I realized I was being hog-tied. Now I would be forced to remain in this position, which despite the foam mattress meant that my breasts were being mashed into the table. This compounded with the ropes digging into my sex, the strain on my shoulder blades and the tightness of my red satin corset, made it less than easy to breathe.

"Aaahhhh, good", my master said lightly. "I can see that you are now ready for your rest." Lifting my head he slid a small pillow under my chin. I turned my head side ways to take advantage of the cushion. He paused for a minute as if looking over my predicament, then continued, "Are you comfortable enough, for your rest period my dear?"

I could have been a good little slave girl and said demurely, "Yes, master". But I had been thinking about just how uncomfortable I was and I just couldn’t keep my big mouth shut. "Ohhhh, yes master", I said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "I am just sooooo comfortable".

He didn’t say a word to my outburst. The next thing I felt was him roughly squeezing the sides of my mouth and forcing it open. Hard rounded rubber was being pushed against my teeth. My mouth was forced open further and further as more pressure was applied until finally the large rubber ball popped behind my teeth. The gag was roughly buckled into place at the back of my neck. "I had been saving this little goodie for later in the evening", my master informed me harshly. "But, I can see that its therapeutic value is needed now. Please enjoy your rest." With that my master turned my head, so that I was again lying with the side of my face on the pillow, and then departed.

This was the biggest ball gag in our collection. I knew that my bright red lips would be stretched to their widest extent around the large orange ball. I could feel the leather strap biting deeply into the corners of my mouth. It wasn’t really necessary to bind the strap this tightly, because nothing except a strong pull was going to get that ball out from behind my teeth. But, I knew I deserved the added punishment.

I lay there with nothing to do but think. I wasn’t going to be able to nod off in this hog-tied suspension position. Especially not with the damning gag! The hog-tie, the corset, the bonds and even the crotch rope were all merely uncomfortable, but a ball gag that big is simply painful. My jaw was already aching and I had only had it in place for only a few minutes. I worked to shift my thoughts elsewhere.

Countless things went through my mind, but time and again I kept coming back to my pussy whipping. (I don’t like using that term, but it seems appropriate here.) It was impossible not to think about that area of my body because with every little shift of my muscles, the ropes in my crotch would roughly rub this tender area. There was something that happened back there that had never happened before. The unbelievable pain had pushed me to a state beyond the normal; it was if I was on a drugged high. Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, I don’t know. But I had felt as if I were out of my body. Like I was two separate entities. One half of me was whipping myself mechanically, in it’s beyond pain state and the other half was experiencing the amazing pain of each lash of the stiff leather.

I know what pain is. I have born three children, all of them naturally, and there is nothing that compares to that type of unceasing intense pain. This however was different. This pain, in some strange way had made me feel... good. I have never taken drugs, but I would suppose that this is how someone on cocaine would feel. Jesus, Mary and Joseph what have I done to myself? (Yes, I do believe in God, very much. No, I do not have any conflicts with bondage, S&M and God. I feel that as long as our marriage is monogamous, then anything that transpires between wife and husband is entirely up to us.) Heck, I hardly even drink and here I have found myself, unbelievably affected by a different kind of drug... pain.

Part 2

I had always approached bondage and S&M as a role to be played. Something outside of myself. It wasn’t what I wanted per say, I participated by being someone other than me. I had never done or even thought of doing anything like this prior to my marriage, but I have always liked sex and have a strong desire to please my partner. My husband / master led me into his world during our engagement and my final year in college. He is five years my senior and very persuasive. A look through a couple of "Love Bondage" magazines and a long talk got me to agree to role-play the submissive female. Now, though, I had to wonder; had I gone past role-playing? Was it really me that wanted to be the subjugated and punished submissive?

My musings were interrupted as the French door opened and closed, once again. As he came closer to me, I thought that I could smell the fresh smell of soap emanating from him. Yes, that and a soft cologne. He must have taken a shower. A cold one I’ll bet, I smirked to myself. I would have smiled, but the ball gag refused my unconscious attempt.

My master put his hands upon me. Sliding them caressing over my black and red satin of my corset. They traveled up and down my sides, bending inward at the imposed reduction in my waist size. The tight smooth satin conveyed his touch to me as if it were directly on my skin. He slid his hands under my breasts, cupping them with his warm hands. He rubbed and gently squeezed my mounds, making me squirm a little in delight. The thumb and forefinger of each hand began to twirl the tips of my nipples, sending burst of warm excitement coursing through my body. "Uuuummm", I moaned happily around my gag.

Shortly his hands moved away. I next felt him rubbing my thighs and legs. His hands ran over my stocking clad legs and ankles, paying particular attention to the ropes surrounding them. His hands caressed the areas where the rope and leg meet, over and over again. The soft touches made my heart pound and began to make me happy that the bindings were there. As he played with my ankles, I moaned again in pleasure, and wiggled my feet happily. My feet and my fingers were about the only thing that I could move. I continued to flex my red stocking clad feet in the soft supple black leather to convey my happiness. What a sight I must have made. Lying hog-tied on a table with large orange ball gag in my mouth must have made me look like a suckling pig with the apple in its mouth waiting to be eaten.

His hands played their tune up and down my out stretched arms. Playing with the ropes at my wrist and then gliding down my shinny black gloves until his hands rested on my strained shoulder blades. He softly rubbed the abused blades and my shoulders in general.

"UUUUuuuuueeeeewwww", I moaned. It felt so good! This coupled with the fact that all of these movements of mine were adding to my stimulation as the ropes sliding across my vagina added their own caress. His fingers lingered over the laces of my corset, pushing slightly against one and pulling slightly at another. His hands slid upwards until they reached my neck, which he gently rubbed with his strong firm digits. I could feel him working with the buckle of my gag and felt the pull of the leather straps at the corner of my mouth slacken. He inserted his fingers into the corners of my mouth and around the ball. With a slow and steady pulling motion he began to pull the ball outwards. I had once stood in front of a mirror and practiced putting this ball gag in and taking it out, and I knew at this point that all of my pearly white teeth were showing. Finally the ball surged outward from behind my teeth. I worked my jaw a bit, trying to relieve the cramps that had formed there. He softly massaged the sides of my face, with my aching cheeks and jaw receiving extra attention.

Then I felt something else rubbing up against the sides of my cheeks. Something warm and firm. I next felt a drop of warm liquid touch my cheek. Now I realized that this was his manhood rubbing up against my face and that was his pre-cum moisturizing my face. He continued to rub my face with his rod as it hardened and lengthened.

"I believe that you know what is required of you Lady Andrea", my master informed me. "Please begin". I was to give him a blowjob, yet I could hardly move my head. In the position I was in I had to accept that my master would handle all of the movements. While this let me relax and let him come (no pun intended) to me, I also realized that I would have absolutely no control. He would be the only one with control over how deep and quickly he would invade my mouth and throat!

He started by holding my head upright, with my chin resting on the pillow. Blackness continued to enfold me due to the blindfold, but I could tell that he had turned sideways to offer me the length of his cock to lick. I did so with gusto, licking my way from his pubic hair up to the cap of his hardened penis. He moved my head from side to side, like he was using an old style typewriter. I on the other hand, felt like I was gumming an ear of corn. I added little nips now and again in between my tongue bath.

I could feel his penis shift direction to the front of me, and then felt him again begin to thrust his manhood back and forth against my cheeks. He alternated from cheek to cheek and I did my best to catch him with my wildly lapping tongue as he passed my mouth. Soon though I could feel him pushing directly towards my mouth. Pursing my lips I gave his hard cap a noisy kiss. He pressed relentlessly forward, pushing my lips aside. He stopped when he had about two inches in my warm mouth and began short backward and forward strokes. I alternated between swirling my tongue around his pole and sucking it. I swear that I could taste the lipstick that I must have left on his rods head on the outward part of his strokes.

Gradually he began to invade me with more and more of his raging hard on. This forced me into a purely sucking role as he was now going beyond the base of my tongue. His thickness was spreading my lips just like the ball gag had and I could just imagine the sight of my fiery red lips traveling up and down his pole. His strokes became quicker and deeper. A couple of times his manhood jumped upwards of its own pre-cum volition, banging against the roof of my mouth. I took deep breaths and fought off the urge to choke when he began to hit the back of my throat. He now had me doing full deep throats. On each inward stroke my nose was being mashed into his bristly pubic hair. With each outward stroke, when only two inches or so remained in my mouth, I swirled my tongue about his head.

I began to feel his rod jerking uncontrollably on his downward stroke and knew that this meant he was very close to cumming. I tried to pull my head back so that I would receive his load in my mouth or better yet on my face. My master had other plans. He pulled my head towards him and thrust himself forward, achieving maximum penetration. At almost that exact instant he exploded against the back of my throat. I gagged a little at first, but then calmed myself down. The flow of hot liquid coming from him seemed to go on forever, again and again I swallowed and swallowed to keep it from leaking out of my mouth. I was forced to accepted shot after burning shot of cum, as it splattered against the back of my throat and seemed to flow right into my stomach.

Slowly he released his death like grip on my head and again began slower more measured strokes. This allowed me to clean all of the residual creamy cum off of his emptied organ. He eventually pulled out and I gave his penis head another quick kiss as it left. A few moments of quiet passed. I once again realized that the CD was playing soft classical music in the background.

I felt my master begin to loosen my bonds. First the rope to the ceiling was released letting my tired arms fall down against my back. Then the cords on my crotch were untied from my ankles and quickly afterwards the rest of my bonds were removed. My master helped me back up into a sitting position as I rubbed my aching wrists. They were not rope burned, due to the protection of the satin gloves, but they did throb all the same. Next he guided me off of the table and onto my feet. I swayed slightly; probably do to my continued disorientation provided by my blindfold. My slippers allowed me to adjust my balance quickly, though. He must have removed the leash at some point, because instead of using it to lead me through the room, he gently held my arm and guided me to the doors.

“Go upstairs and refresh yourself, my dear lady", my husband / master said softly. “Take a shower and then dress as instructed by the envelope I have left on your bureau. You will then return down here for dinner". While he was talking, I could feel him working on the laces on my corset. Soon I felt the vice like pressure ease up. Moving my hands upward to my head, I intended to remove the satin night mask. "NO", Fellows said forcefully. "Do not remove your blindfold until you have passed out of my sanctum". He then opened the doors and guided me over the threshold.

When I heard the doors close behind me, I removed my blindfold. I blinked as the waning light of late afternoon filtered into the house. That made me realize that there were windows in the area. My quickly adjusting eyes focused on the gauzy black wrap, which had been placed across the banister. I briskly donned it and began my trek up the stairs. This was not as easy as it sounds, because my lower lips were still swollen and sore. Each time I had to stretch to reach the next step was extremely uncomfortable. I made it, in due course and removed my garments in order to enjoy a long hot shower.

I emerged feeling refreshed and actually a little invigorated. I had rubbed soothing aloe lotion, into my water glistening vagina and over my bruised buttocks. Then I used more of the cream to moisturize the rough spots caused by the rope bonds. The lines that the tight rope always leaves on my skin had even faded a little. Not to mention I was starting to really feel hungry. Returning to my bedroom I opened the waiting envelope.

This time it was to be a royal blue bustier, matching crotch less lace panties, powder blue stockings, white frilly finger gloves and white patent leather high heels. Except for the heels these garments were all purchased as a matched set, so it wasn’t too hard to bring it all together.

I dressed much the same as before. The bustier was ribbed and provided three sets of hooks, for each fastening at the back, so that you could make it literally skin tight. I was proud that only at the very top and bottom did I have to use the second set of hooks; otherwise I was using the tightest hooks in every case. This was one of those garments that didn’t leave much to the imagination. It was mainly made of a transparent nylon mesh, which was highlighted by the heavy blue ribs and the lacy floral design built into the mesh. The cups that held my breasts were once again basically a half-cup bra that pushed and shaped my heavy mounds.

As you may have guessed these were brought on purpose, by my husband / master and myself. Despite the fact that I did aerobics for thirty to forty-five minutes a day, after three children and all of the milk I have carried.... Well gravity had finally won its battle. I had talked to him about breast implants and he was definitely amenable, but coming up with the five or six grand was an entirely different matter. Therefore, push up type bra’s were my best alternative. Besides if the bustier fit properly, as this one most definitely did, it did a wonderful job of making my breasts look as firm as those of a young girl.

I slid into the light blue stockings and arranged the seams. I re-applied my make-up using more blues this time, to match with my outfit. The lipstick this time was of a darker shade, as it was not stipulated exactly what color to wear. I put on the listed triple strand pearl choker and matching earrings. This choker was merely ornamental, but it did give the illusion of being a high priced slaves collar.

From my closet I removed the white patent leather pumps. I sat down on the bed to put these on, as they were not your normal pumps. They also sported a five inch spiked heel, but these included a variety of straps that needed to be buckled in place. Two thin straps crossed over the arch of the foot and were joined by a T-strap coming straight up from the mouth of the shoe. The heel included a leather extension, which terminated in two more thin white straps that were closed with two miniature gold buckles. My master had told me, when I purchased these shoes, that these were true slave shoes as the straps always reminded the woman of her proper place.

I then slid on the white nylon mesh finger gloves, with the frills at the wrists. Lastly, I put on the bustier's matching royal blue transparent mesh jacket. As I said it was also made of a see-through material, but using two layers one over the other, made it mostly translucent.

I again slowly descended the stairs, carefully holding the railing. Partially my reticence was due to not wanting to hurt myself in a needless fall and partly it was a little trepidation about what comes after dinner. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I smiled and thought it doesn’t matter what awaits me behind those doors this is where I want to be.

My master / husband will hate my writing this part, but this is what I said to him that night and if he wants an accurate record of that conversation he will have to leave this in.

Yes, this is where I want to be. We are not rich in monetary terms (though we have enough to keep everyone happy), but we have a wonderful family and we love each other. My husband, outside of this fantasy world, should be the model man for the 90’s. He generally lets me make all of the decisions concerning the rearing of our children and running the household. Despite what you may think of him by reading this story, he is actually a wonderful father and a wonderfully sensitive husband.

So, yes I do want to be here. I walked up to the double doors and removed the expected envelope. Ah, a white satin sleep mask this time. I slid it into place over my eyes. The elastic strap once again buried itself into my curly auburn locks, tightening the satin material over my eyes. I knocked as instructed and heard the doors open.

I felt my husband / master come to stand beside me. He placed my hand on the crook of his raised elbow, as he led me into the room like a lady going to a fancy party. I was seated in one of the two head of the table chairs. These had arms and straight backs. They were made of heavy wood, with padded fabric seats.

My master lashed each of my arms at the wrist and the elbow to the matching arm of the chair. Again my legs were bound above the knee and at the ankles. My ankles were further restrained by being tied to a center bar, which was part of the chairs frame. Two sets of twin ropes were crossed across my chest in an X fashion, binding me into a perfect posture and upright position. Binding me to a chair to feed me dinner was a common part of one of my husband / masters bondage scenarios. But what I didn’t understand was why he had used rope instead of Velcro fasteners, as was his norm. Being bound at dinner was not a true bondage situation, so usually the black nylon and Velcro straps were the preferred method of binding me to my chair.

My wondering mind turned to food as I heard my master sit down at the other end of the table. I could smell an Italian aroma wafting through the air. I heard him pop the cork on a bottle of wine. My stomach growled as I heard his knife and fork clicking against his plate as he ate. He did not rush his meal he simply ate normally. But, without the usual chit chat. When he was finally finished, I heard him go through the door to the kitchen. Soon he returned, and as he moved over to my side of the table I could smell that wonderful Italian aroma. I heard the plate being put down on the table in front of me and liquid being poured into a glass. Then my chair was pushed sideways and forward, into its place at the table. This was not unusual, because I knew that while my master was eating he liked to admire his handiwork.

I heard him step away for a minute. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it sounded like he was rearranging something on the table. Then he seated himself besides me. I felt the tips of a fork brushing my dark red lips. I cautiously took a nibble, to make sure it wasn’t overly hot. Hmmmm, Hmmmm, it was perfect. Fettuccini Alfredo. My master feed me fork after fork of the delightful dish. I savored the flavor and enjoyed my master feeding me.

Very gently he would put the fork next to my lips and as I opened my mouth demurely he would slide in the small portion of food. When I had had five or six bites, he would hold the wine glass to my waiting lips and tilt it just enough so that I could take a small sip. I made sure that I only took small sips because the last thing I wanted to do was get tipsy during a bondage encounter.

I daintily ate bite, after bite until it my portion was finished. I was glad that it had not been any larger because I did not want to have had to offend my husband \ master by telling him that I had had enough. Again the wine was proffered and sipped. "Thank you, master", I said meaningfully, "for such a wonderful dinner." He did not say anything in response. Instead I felt him lean over me and his warm lips met mine. Our tongues leaped at each other wrestling and groping each other. He slowed his pace and began to back away, finishing our kiss. I tried to lean forward to extend the intimacy, but I could not as the rope bindings across my chest dug into my soft flesh. All I felt was air in my open aching mouth.

I heard my husband clearing the meager effects on the table and moving about the room. Sliding my chair back from the table he began to unbind me. He removed each set of ropes in the reverse of the order that he had put them on. First I was released from the ropes criss-crossing my chest. Next from the ropes binding my ankles and knees. Lastly, my wrists and elbows were untied.

My master helped me to stand, which as I have said before, was always helpful when you are wearing five-inch spike heels. He led me back into the living room and gently helped me out of my royal blue transparent jacket. "It is time for another rest Lady Andrea", he informed. "As with swimming, it is not a good idea to enter into strenuous activities shortly after eating".

One of his hands lifted my right hand and with his other hand placed something made of leather into my palm. With both of my hands I felt the leather gadget, and quickly understood that this was a gag. "Please put this on slave", my master commanded me. I took the central leather pad in both hands and lifted it towards my mouth. I gave the attached cylindrical leather plug a sexy kiss as it reached my lips. Opening my mouth to receive the thick flat-headed plug, I closed down the sides of my mouth and sucked on it. I slowly pulled backwards on the leather pad, which I am sure made it seem like I was actually sucking the two plus inches of hard leather into my mouth. This was of course exactly what I was trying to do, as I knew that it would please my master to no end. I smiled mischievously behind the gag as I thought, that maybe my happy little slave girl act would send him back for another cold shower! I buckled the two sets of buckles as tightly as I could around my thick curly locks. I felt my master checking the separate leather straps and mummer something like... satisfactory.

Smack. Totally unexpectedly, I felt my husbands strong bare hand slam into my buttocks. The spank pushed me a tottering step forward and forced an unintentional shriek to well up in my throat. My muffled mouth let merely a resounding, "Aarrrhhhh", pass through. "I just wanted to make sure that your gag was effective, my dear", said my master. The blow especially stung, because my rear end was still tender from its encounter with the leather leash. "Cross your wrists in front of you and hold them out for binding", he commanded me.

Doing as instructed I felt rope once again surround my wrists. This time it was rough manila cord. My wrists were first bound down the middle and then from right to left forming a cross (+) pattern. This was done twice and the tied off, in a place that there was no way my fingers could reach. Unlike my last binding, this time my master left a few feet of cord hanging down from my wrists. My husband / master turned me a quarter turn (ninety degrees) and commanded, "Kneel down slave". I slowly and as gracefully as possible lowered myself into the requested position. I kept my knees together as I had in our bedroom, resting my butt on the heels of my pumps and laying my bound wrists on my knees. I lowered my head submissively and worked hard to remain immobile. This wasn’t as easy as it sounded, for it was necessary to keep my high heels tightly together to support my rear end and this meant that only my severely strained toes were keeping my balance.

"There is a table before you slave, bend over it with your arms outstretched", again the voice of command. That voice that you knew meant that it would brook no insubordination at all. I bent forward and felt a cushion on the table. My hands slid past that leaving my hips propped up in the air by the thick pillow. A small lacy pillow was slid under my face at the point it would have come in contact with the table. I had soon realized that I was being forced to lie across the coffee table. My husband moved behind me separating my legs forcefully. He bound each leg just above the knee to the opposite leg of the heavy table. Next a set of cords was thrown over my waist and the rope obviously went under the table, because as it was tightened it dragged my stomach against the hard wood. This was made even more uncomfortable than it should have been, because of the cushion propping up my thighs, which forced an unnatural thrusting of my tush upwards into the air.

The gag in my mouth was a fortunate item for me to be wearing at the moment. For I knew that if I was able to speak I would have barked like a dog. I know my sense of humor and if he wants to give it to me "doggie" style, I felt that I should at least give him a howl or two. The rope attached to my wrists was pulled forward and tightened. This stretched and straightened my arms, which lay to either side of my head. Lastly he bound each ankle separately with rope, pushing them even further apart he attached them to some sort of spreader bar.

My husband / master stood up, pausing for a minute or two, before he began to slowly circled me. My master is a perfectionist when it comes to rope work and the bondage position. He has told me that he is always striving to create a piece of living art work out of my bound form. He also has a particular way of doing all of his rope work to make it more attractive. He takes each rope and bends it in half at its mid-point. Taking the taped loose end of rope and passing it through the loop formed at the middle of the rope starts each tie. In this way each time he wraps rope around one of my appendages, two strands are applied side by side.

In my minds eye I could see myself tied to the dark mahogany wood of the coffee table. My knees were wrapped with four manila cords and tightened by the winding rope, which completed the figure eight. My powder blue seams making little roadways down my legs to my widely spread ankles. The manila rope surrounding my ankles ended just above the top twin straps of my highly arched pumps. My white leather sheathed toes were splayed to either side of the offending bar. I could feel his eyes traveling up my immobilized legs and thighs and resting on the blue lace crotch less panties that covered my rear. These panties were somewhat different then the previous ones as they were split open from stem to stern. I am sure this afforded him a wonderful picture of my curly haired love mound and my puckered little anus. The quadruple rope cords pressing into the royal blue nylon mesh fabric that covered my back, served to squish my stomach and breasts into the hard wood. My head lay sideways on the provided pillow, probably propping it up over my surrounding bound arms. With the white satin night mask and the thick black pad that held my gag in place, I doubted that much of my face could be seen.

In his own good time he moved around to my rear end. I knew this as soon as I felt him apply the gooey substance around and over my puckered rear entrance. This surprised the heck out of me as it was just not one of my husband / masters normal interests. In fact I believe that we had had anal sex less times than the number of years we had been married! But here he was lubing me up, pushing one and then two fingers into my tight opening. He applied more of the Vaseline and made sure that his probing fingers pushed plenty of the slippery substance into me. Next I felt something hard and stiff against my rear entrance. It wasn’t his manhood though, it was stiffer and harder and the tip was more rounded and tapered. Slowly this invading hardness was pushed into my rectum. Its tapered head pushed open my greased passageway bit by bit until its full width was in me.

"Oooorrrrhhhhh", I groaned through my mouth-filling gag.

When my master had about two inches of what I now assumed was my own milky white vibrator, in me he stopped. I could feel my spinster muscles tightening and I believe actually starting to push the offending plastic out of my abused anal canal. I helped by clenching and unclenching my buttocks muscles. My master would have none of these shenanigans though, and with a firm shove he inserted a full four or five inches of the hard plastic into me. I knew that he had not shoved it all the way in because, he at that point held the end and swirled the plastic penis around my insides. When he stopped I realized that neither my spinster nor butt muscles were going to be able to dislodge the item. So there it remained, in all probability looking like a thick white rectal thermometer sticking out of my ass.

"Time for your rest now", my master informed me. I heard him sit down and pick up what sounded like a newspaper. I heard the rustling of the pages until he found something that interested him. "Oooouuuummmpppfff", I moaned as I felt him lower his crossed feet onto my already strained back muscles. Humiliation was a much-used ingredient in most S&M play. But just as anal sex was unusual for us, so was this. Treating me like a piece of furniture was only something he had done for laughs previously. As I lay there, resting I had a lot of time to think.

The only answer that I could come up with for my husband / masters deviation away from our "norm", was the length of time we had to fill. Usually, we only had one or two hours, to act out any bondage fantasies. During those times I would hurriedly dress and then my master would subject me to one or two bondage’s. A session of lovemaking would follow and that would be it. Today we had a full four or five times that amount of time. So I guess my master was just intent on trying all of those things that we normally didn’t have the time to do.

Part 3

Time passed slowly, but pass it finally did. I heard the rustle of the paper being set aside and then the weight of his heavy feet being removed from my aching back. He came around behind me and knelt between my spread legs. His hands caressed the leather and straps of both of my pumps at the same time, sliding upwards to the itchy manila rope that harnessed my nylon sheathed ankles. He fondled my ankles and the bindings, slowly and lovingly, before moving onwards. The balls of his fingers traveled up the seams of my stockings, stopping to rub my tortured flesh about my bound knees. Up the steep slope of my legs and thighs his hands probed, dallying long enough around the top of my stockings to give them a little pull and let them snap back against my milky smooth thighs. Over my white half moons they slowly went, as if they had minds of their own. Onto the lacy soft blue nylon of my panties. He kneaded my firm rump with both hands all of the time seeming to be gaining power and strength from his actions.

I felt the material of his pants drape over my legs as they fell to the ground about his knees. Unceremoniously the white pseudo cock was pulled from my rectum. Again I felt something hard and stiff waiting at my rear door, but this time it had the familiar feel of the firm head of my master’s rod. He rubbed his manhood on both of my cheeks and then I could feel him pumping himself behind me. When he was ready he began to slowly press at my buttocks single ogre like eye. His thick-capped head was refused access by my tight little hole at first. I felt him gather himself together and then surge forward against my hips.

"Oooouuupphhh", I moaned as just like the ball popping behind my teeth, his cock head popped into my tight back door. I felt his staff stop, until the hand that he had supported his shaft with was removed. Both of his hands were moved to my hips as he began a very slow smooth back and forth motion with his hips.

Once past my tight trap door, he did not seem to have any problem with the tightness of my rear confines. The Vaseline lubing I had earlier received seemed to allow him comfortable access to my asshole. My situation was much different than this. Every push forward of his surging hips pushed his stiff rod deeper into my nether regions. His cock was both wider and longer than the previous plastic inhabitant of my rear canal and it felt like it was ripping me apart. Behind my mask I ground my eyes shut to ward away the pain. Expulsions of air were forced from my lungs as each of his thrusts went forward. They sounded like mere gasps around the effective black gag. Slowly my master drove a fiery path down my rectal canal with his hot thick manhood. Each thrust pushing into my bound motionless hips a little harder and farther. Finally his strokes seemed to have reached the limit of their depth and he began to pull out until only the tip of his penis was still embedded in my anus and then drive forward until all of the rest of him was sucked into my anal tract. At first this was almost as painful as his opening strokes had been, but as both I and my butt muscles relaxed, the pain began to recede. So each of his thrust was merely uncomfortable and I could begin breathing more easily.

Forward he dove and backward he pulled time after time. My master was really into a grove, as I could feel him growing within me. His strokes were going so far backwards that a couple of times I feared that he would fall out and we would have to start all over again! He didn’t though; he just pushed in and out of my ultra tight rear end time and time again. I unclenched my hands, which I had earlier clinched into fists before me. I am not going to say that it was beginning to feel good being impaled back there, but there was something about the thought of my master in heat that was heating my blood. Faster and faster he pumped his hardened meat into me. Each stroke slamming into my hips, pushing them backwards and rubbing my lowered back raw where the rope held me to the table.

A floodgate opened in my anal canal. It was like someone had all of a sudden poured a hot enema down my rear gullet. I knew my husband / master was coming in me as I could feel his rod twitch in the tight confines of my ass. He continued to pound it into me for a while, but at the end he pulled out. He laid his cock on the crack of my raised butt and let it pour out the remnants of its thick milky cum onto my brown pucker bunghole. I could feel the cum on my cheeks where he had pushed the crotch less panty fabric out of its uncertain lava like path. I heard him sigh with satisfaction as his eruption ebbed. He seemed to rest there for a while. Lastly I felt him wiping my butt off with a child’s wipe-em and resetting my meager panties in their appropriate place.

He left me like that for a few minutes, leaving the room to clean himself up I suppose. Upon returning he made quick work of unbinding me from the table and helping me into a standing position.

I stood rubbing my unbound wrists as my master finally deigned to remove my mask. I blinked my eyes in the harsh lights of the room. It seemed to be much brighter in here than normal. I saw that all of the shades had been lowered and that the heavy drapes had been closed. The furniture had been moved around to be less intrusive and more compatible with the bondage scene... Then I saw it. I could not believe my straining eyes. Upon a tripod rested our video camera and behind it was our 31" inch big screen TV. I couldn’t believe I was watching myself rub my wrists, standing in the middle of our living room / dungeon, wearing the sexy costume he had ordered me into.

My face turned red and I turned on my husband like the wrath of God. If it hadn’t been that I was still gagged at that point, there would have been a very colorful outburst emanating from me. My husband grabbed both of my arms and said softly, "You said whatever I want." He reminded me of my exact and damning words. I stopped twisting in his strong grip and began to calm down. He knew that I hated any thought that any of our goings on would get outside of our four walls. Therefore I had always refused all of his attempts to allow him to videotape one of our encounters. In fact I had only allowed a mere three or four-dozen pictures, from a self-developing camera, to be taken of myself in these situations. Those were kept under lock and key in a strong box in our bedroom, with other important documents such as birth certificates. Videotaping was just out of the question! My husband \ master was just too good with computers for videotape to be safe. He had one of those capture mechanisms that could steal a picture from tape and make it into a bit map. Heck our windows background was a picture of the kids taken from videotape!

"Calm down and hear my proposition, before you explode Andrea", he looked into my eyes and I glared back at him, angry and defiant. "We can stop this bondage encounter right now and you give me rights to disseminate that videotape any way I see fit. This includes posting your image on Internet bulletin boards and swapping it in chat rooms. I think I can satisfy just about anyone’s taste with the film we have already taken...” I surged against his strength, yelling curses and other dire threats through my muffled mouth. He got the message though. "Or....", he continued. "You agree to do a particularly difficult S&M scene. The tape is kept under lock and key, no one but you and I view it and no pictures from it ever leave this house. Of that I give you my word." Now I really began to calm down, his word was always good. Of course it left me with little or no choice in the matter, but he had obviously arranged it that way. I was beginning to wonder if all of this was a set up to get me to agree to this next scene. Once again as if reading my mind he guided my body through a quarter turn.

Looking at the archway going into the dining room, I could see a set of double block and pulleys suspended from the heavy-duty frame of our tract lighting. Suspension bondage, probably the most difficult bondage there was. With the nautical block and pulley arrangements he could easily pull my weight fully up to the ceiling. He had moved over to the camera and was taking in both my expressions and the direction of my gaze. Suspension bondage was rough, but there had to be more otherwise the choice was far too easy. I looked towards my husband \ master questionably and he pointed towards the dinning room table. On the white linen covered table, the pads had been removed, were the implements and items, which were to attend my proposed punishment. A full leather arm binder sleeve was the first item on the table. Besides it rested black leather cuffs and a studded black leather belt. Next came the real painful items. Spring nipple clamps with attached lead weights, a thick candle and lastly a narrow stiff braided leather-riding crop.

My husband / master moved back to my side and in his best showman like voice said, "All right my dear and what shall your choice be." He made an exaggerated swing of his arm and pointed to the video camera. "Will it be door number one and allowing you lovely body and technique to be viewed by others who share our personal interest? Or...” He paused as I watched him and myself on our TV. My body was presented proudly with my breasts thrust forward and my legs elongated and made shapelier by the white strappy high heels. The red lines on my wrists and the heavy gag in my mouth were all that marred the overall picture. I wondered how many other submissive females found themselves in this situation at one time or another. I wondered how many of us there were out there one hundred thousand, two.... my musings were interrupted as my husband \ master continued, ".... Or.... You can have door number two. Yes, if you choose this door you will be ensconced in a particularly stressful, suspended bondage situation. You will be treated to the best in leather restraints and our famous spring nipple clamps! And just to make things more interesting I will throw in a nice hot wax treatment and a full body switching!" My husband hummed that silly tune that accompanied the jeopardy show, during final jeopardy question as he waited for my answer.

I looked between the two. At that time I noticed another tripod, empty now, but set up so it would have given the camera a perfect view of me when I was giving him a bound blow job. How many men would look at those images on their computer screens if I acquiesced. I was blindfolded during the entire episodes and wearing sexy costumes that would make it impossible for anyone to be able to recognize me in those pictures. Who would believe, looking at me on the street in my town and country clothes and flat-heeled shoes that I was the woman from these pictures? How many men would jerk off fantasizing about me in those pictures. It was an exciting thought to think of the power I would have over those many unknown strangers. "Door number one or Door number two", my husband / master asked once more. That last thought was the one straw that broke the camels back. No, no, not the power... that illusionary thought passed quickly. It was the sharing of ourselves outside of our marriage that made the choice for me. In a weird way I would be inviting all of those men into our bed with us, and this was something I couldn’t do. I lowered my head in submission and pointed towards, door number.... two.

I heard or maybe I imagined I heard my husband’s relieved sigh as he continued without missing a beat, "Allrighty then. The lady has chosen door number two and some really great suspension torture." He was totally out of the Fellows role and now into a Jim Carey meets Monty Hall role. As if he realized that his excitement had pushed him over the edge, he worked hard to compose himself. He turned to me and said, "Please take a few minutes to attend to your personal needs and then re-join me here in the dungeon."

Unbuckling my gag I removed the wet leather from my mouth. I worked my jaw a bit and then replied softly, "Yes, master". I left the room and all of its frightening aspects and entered the bathroom. I cleaned myself out with a quick douche and then re-applied my makeup. I very much doubted that I would be blindfolded this time, so I spent extra time on my eyes and blush. My Colorstay lipstick had done a good job of not wearing off, but I touched it up a bit nonetheless. It helped me, a lot, to handle these normal simple tasks and therefore being able to keep the awaiting trail out of my thoughts.

I knew I could do this scene. But it was just that this one was taking all of the worst aspects of countless other bondage encounters and putting them all into one scene, I lamented to myself. Forcing the thought from my head, I brushed my auburn / brown hair until it shinned. I straightened my clothing and re-seated my breasts in their half-cup enclosures. ‘Oh, my poor babies’, I thought as I held my mounds, ‘what am I letting you in for?’ Holding my head high I walked gracefully back into my masters dungeon.

My husband / master was behind the camera as I came in. He was zooming in and out on different parts of my features. I posed for the camera, bending one knee forward and arching one foot, as I lifted the heel of the floor, even further. My hands went to hips and I smiled. Then I turned my head and winked. My husband master / pointed to position on the carpet were he had placed a black X with electrical tape. I strode over to the spot and made ‘cutesy’ sounds as I looked over at the nearby cloth covered folding tray. "What do we have here", I said putting my frilly-gloved hands to the sides of my face and doing my best Betty Bop dip. I removed the white cloth and covered my mouth with the tips of both hands fingers, my face registered marked surprise and a little fear. "And what am I to do with all of these things....", I feigned my incomprehension. It was amazing that my husband hadn’t stopped my little act, but before I walked back into the room I had sworn to myself that I would play this scenario out beyond even my husband’s wildest dreams. Somehow my husband \ master must have sensed this.

Looking at the tray I picked up the least offensive item and said, "Oh my I guess you want me to put this belt on? Of course you do master, why else would you have laid it out here." I took the three-inch thick leather belt and wrapped it around my waist. I slotted the big D ring into the tightest notch that I could, and then I finished off the rest of its latchings. My husband made a circular motion with his upraised hand from behind the camera. "Silly me, the D ring should be at the back shouldn’t it", I remarked with a light lilt to my voice. I used both hands to pull and push the tight leather until I felt he ring move into the proper position.

"Oh, what lovely cuffs", I cooed. Picking one up I held it to my cheek and rubbed it against my soft flesh. Looking at the TV monitor I could see the lovely contrast that my white finger gloves made with the hard black leather. "Let’s see does this go on my wrist", I questioned myself as I slid it over my left wrist. "Oh no, it just a little too large for that. Then of course it must go on my ankle!" I picked the second leather ankle restraint off of the tray and walked over to a nearby chair. The chair was turned at a forty-five degree angle to the camera and I was sure this would provide a perfect picture. I sat down gracefully and stretched out one leg before me. The easiest way to put on the binding would have been to cross one leg over the other knee, man-like, and buckle it on. Taking one of the leather cuffs I bent over and reached out to my extended ankle. This was in part a partial ballet position. Gently I placed the padded cuffs against my ankles. I used the twin buckles to bind the hard black leather to my powder blue sheathed gams. I reversed my posture and repeated the procedure on my second leg. "Oh, my aren’t they just the sweetest things you ever seen", I said cutely as I held both of my legs up from the floor to show off my bindings.

I walked back to the table and final item. "Ohh, ohh, ohh... this doesn’t look comfortable at all", I said in mock sadness. I lifted the full harness gag with just one finger and swayed it from side to side as I eyed it sadly. Then I smiled, "But then again, I guess a slave just has to do what a slave has to do". I slid the leather harness over thick curly locks. One strip of leather descended down between my eyes and then formed a triangle about my nose; below this dangled a yellow ball. I smiled and gave a wave to the camera, "Bye, bye. Talk to you soon." With that I used both hands to pop the ball behind my teeth. This ball was slightly smaller than the previous one and allowed me to encircle it with full lips, rather than showing off my widely spread teeth. I continued to finish the bindings of the head harness. I buckled the buckle beneath my chin and then the ones behind my neck and head. Once it was completed it really was a very attractive item. I could see the black leather straps surrounding my soft white skin and the big yellow ball juicily encased within my dark red lips. I stood and posed a bit pointing out each item with my white lacy finger gloves.

My master crossed to the dining room table and retrieved the black leather arm binder. He had me turn my body, so that the camera would have a good view of the proceedings. Being the perfect submissive, I put my arms behind me and steepled my fingers, almost at the same time as he was uttering the instructions to do so. My husband \ master bought the triangle sleeve upwards letting my hands slide down the soft leather. At the tight bottom I wiggled my hands into the single glove like projection. When they slid properly in place the remainder of the sleeve surged upwards until the top was only inches below my shoulders.

My master tightened the straps, in the same manner that he had tightened my corset. From bottom to top until my shoulder blades were pulled so tightly together that I though they would pop. He removed the triple strand of pearls from about my neck. In its place he buckled the simple soft leather collar that was part of the arm binder sleeve set. It was attached to the sleeve with another strap and buckle arrangement that made it impossible for the wearer to in anyway shimmy out of the tight cone like leather sleeve. I tried to shrug my shoulders in vain, against the torturous leather sleeve. Anything to lessen the pressure, but all I achieved was a reminder of how painfully strained my shoulder blades were.

From his pocket he removed one of the items that I really had been avoiding, a spring nipple clamp. He pushed the tiny bit of blue fabric away from the tip of my left breast. He kneaded the hard flesh between thumb and fore finger giving it little pinches and pulls as it hardened and lengthened. He opened the spring on one of the clips and slowly brought to up to my breasts. I watched as he used his other hand to use a remote control that had the camera zoom in on my chest and face. I watched the big screen TV, fascinated as the open clamp moved towards my teat that he still held between two fingers. The metal of the clasps touched me and I jumped as if hit with an electric shock. I looked down at my breast just in time to see the clamp settle on the tip of my nipple and close. "AAAAaaaaggggghhhhh", I wailed through my gag. I twisted my head back and forth, waiting for the pain to subside. And subside it did, actually pretty quickly; it went from actual pain to just a mere heavy throbbing. I closed my eyes rather then watch my master attach the second clamp. "Aaaarrrrrggghhhh", I howled once more. Both of my breasts throbbed as if they were there own separate entity.

My master had put each of the clamps exactly on the tip its respective nipple, grasping only a small bit of the tender flesh. This was also of course the most painful way to apply them. Anywhere else on the breast would of course be less painful than the tender tip of my nipples. Taking a bigger bite with the clamp would spread the amount of area that the pressure was spread across and therefore reduce it. He knew all this and so did I and that is of course why he did not have me put them on myself. While it was exciting for him to watch me inflicting the anguish upon myself, he knew that he couldn’t trust me to place them as expertly as he had. When the pain receded enough for me to be able to open my eyes I looked back at the TV. The silver metal clamps were lying against my bruised breasts.

The worst was yet to come and I knew it. In his hand he dangled heavy fishing weights, 4oz. was clearly stamped on each of them, from about four inches of clear fishing line. They had little clips on the top, which were usually used to clip them to fishhooks, but not this time. He pressed the first little clip against the eyehole, thoughtfully provide in the center of each God blessed clamp. He made sure that both were secured to their respective clamp, giving the clamps a slight tug to make sure they were secure. This drew a slight gasp from my highly muffled mouth. Then he sort of just tossed them slightly up in the air and let them fall. I watched on the monitor, almost as if it were in slow motion, those weights pop up out of his hands and then drop to the full length of their tethers. "Nnnnnooooooooo", I shouted through the gag. Followed quickly by, "Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh", as I shouted in distress. The weights pulled my aching nipples down to and then like elastic bands bounced them back upwards.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhh", I screamed as the twin weights bounced from one painful direction to another. Finally they slowed to a dangling swaying and my breasts once again reverted to a painful throbbing. As the pain lessened I again opened my eyes.

Like a person outside of my body I felt my master turn me and walk me towards the waiting block and tackle arrangements. Each step brought a new twinge to my tortured tits. Finally I arrived beneath the pulleys and was guided ahead just a bit further. "You must lay down on the floor, so that I can hoist you upwards Lady Andrea. So be so good as to let me help you to the ground." My husband / master was as good as his word and helped me gently down into first a sitting position and then with his hands supporting my head, into a laying position. He left me for a few minutes to rest from my trails. The weights were now lying against my stomach, letting me get used to the clamps throbbing pressure. My tormented gasping breaths began to come more easily.

He was soon back, spreading my legs widely, while attaching a spreader bar to my ankle restraints. He used replacement chain links that could be screwed open and closed to attach the D rings on the black leather cuff to the eye rings on the three-foot wide cylindrical spreader bar. When he was finished he attached thick metal clasps to other D rings on each of the padded ankle restraints. These clasps were attached to the block and tackle contraptions, which had multiple cords running through the mass of pulleys.

Wrapping both of the cords ends around his black leather gloved hand he began a hand over hand pulling of the twin cords. He had to make many short pulls, but soon he had my spread legs perpendicular to the ground. Leaving me stretched like that way for a few moments, he said, "I bet you would love it if I didn’t lift you any higher than this wouldn’t you". I murmured positive imprecations through the all to effective gag and nodded my head ‘yes’ to make sure he understood. "Hmmmm, yes I could", he continued. "I still have full access to all of your body parts, but.... I just wouldn’t want to disappoint you and let you miss the full effect of a well planned suspension." With that he started the hand over hand on the cords again. My butt came off the ground and my back was slowly dragged across the carpet as my body was hoisted higher into the air. As my back straightened the weights fell backwards toward my face, making me moan in pain. Due to my slow upward progress the weights moved into a dangling position in a smooth enough fashion that it did not blind me with pain.

My master had explained how the use of these nautical block and tackle arrangements could reduce the weight of the object, in this case me, to one quarter of its weight. It only required that a lot of rope or cord in this case be pulled through successive pulleys. This meant that he had to pull a lot of cord to raise me into the air, but by the same token he was now only working at pulling thirty pounds of dead weight (no pun intended).

Finally my head came free of the floor and soon only my hair was brushing it. He tied the ropes off to the heavy dining room table and then moved to my back. My arms in the sleeve were leaning back away from my body. This he quickly corrected by attaching the sleeve to the D ring of the waist belt. My firmly muscled legs throbbed to the pressure of supporting my entire body. My poor cunny, once again, felt like it was being pulled apart. The dangling weights and my tormented shoulder blades sent their own pained messages to my brain. Every part of my body had some sort of pain. Slowly I was able to accept each of the different types of pain until they all became manageable.

Looking backwards I could see that my husband had moved the camera to a new angle. There I was hanging upside down in my TV set. My eyes were drawn to the shinny white patent leather of my sky-high heels. Now the choice of these heels over the other offerings in my closet became apparent. The multiple straps made sure that my foot remained faithfully ensconced in the highly arched leather heels, with no worry that they might ‘pop’ off. He zoomed in on my face and I also saw that the harness gag was another thoughtful choice. It sexy black leather straps provide a perfect holder for the large yellow ball that my dark red lips surrounded. Furthermore it did not hide the rest of my face and all of the work I had done on my make up.

The camera angle was readjusted and a close up shoot was set which only included my pour abused lower love lips. I knew that the camera had a 12x focus on it and it looked like he had me zoomed all of the way in. In the picture I watched as his hands spread soothing oil into my curly brown hair. This made my vagina’s hair glisten in the light. The camera picked it up like tree branches covered in ice when the sunlight hits them just right. The yellowish light made my hair gleam golden. Into this picture came a thick red candle, with very little effort he pushed the tapered end of the candle directly into my sex, seating at least two or three inches of the hard wax inside of me. A match exploded into life on the screen and the candle was lit. He continued to keep this focus for the two or three minutes it took for the candle to build up some real hot wax. He gently flicked the candle with his finger, spilling the hot wax directly onto my puffy love lips. My body jerked in response, which caused my weighted nipple clamps to pull on my tits and send more agonizing pain signals to my exhausted brain.

To finish off the bondage scenario, he placed an hourglass upon the floor in front of me. One hour of this was impossible was my immediate thought! When I looked more closely, I was happy to note that half of the sand had already run out. Even a half hour of this didn’t seem possible.

"One more chance my dear", my master said. "You can still pick door number one or brace yourself for another thirty minutes of uninterrupted pleasure." I shook my head no. With that he lashed his braided quirt across my previously stripped buttocks. The many different explosions of pain are too hard to quantify. My butt contracted away from the leather lash, splattering more of the molten hot wax on to my glistening cunny which in turn jerked my body again, all of which caused the wildly swing weights to pull on my tortured nipple tips. "Ooooouuuuggggg", I screamed and then “AAARrrrhhhhh", I yelled into the ball blocking all sounds emanating from my mouth.

Each time my body even came close to relaxing, crack the lash would land on some other unprotected area. My body jerked again and again. I had now, once again, gone beyond the pain and was watching with interest my movements on the big screen. Each jerk shook me from the toes of my shoes to the hair on my head and the jerks and twitches just didn’t seem to stop anymore. My mouth felt dry as ash and my throat as raw as sand paper, as I howled and moaned a continuous scream through the damning gag.

Almost as if I were another person, I watched as my master walked around me. As he twisted my body sometimes to make sure the camera was getting a good shoot of my sleeve strained shoulder blades. I watched as he aimed his lash at my thighs, legs, buttocks, and even breasts.

A weird feeling began to come over me. The pain from my nipples was sending these mixed signals to my invaded sex organ, which was rubbing itself against the hard wax candle. The hot wax was equally sending signals to my battered cunny, but now they weren’t all painful ones. I slowly began to realize that what I was feeling was the birth of a tremendous gut rumbling orgasm. Everything all mixed together was bringing my pain-racked brain towards a point where it was inconceivable that I could go. Crack. Even the crack of the lash so close to the candle that it shook it, sent more of the pleasure / pain messages to my cunny. Crack, burn, tug, and scream. That was my body leaping wildly about on the screen. "Aaaaarrrrggggghhhhh", I continuously moaned as the tidal wave built up inside of me. "Ohhhhh..... Ohhhhhhh...Ohhhhh", the moans came from my tortured and orgasm lashed body.

My husband stopped what he was doing and watched me with an incredulous look on his face. Then he leaped into action. He grabbed the hot candle, blew out the flame and began pumping it quickly in and out of me like a dildo. Yes, yes, yes, YES, I thought to myself.

"RRRrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh", I screamed in ecstasy as the unbelievable orgasmic wave burst over me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of my wildly flailing body as the camera recorded my every move. Over and over the waves just swept through my body, until finally they subsided and my exhausted body just hung limply as I just didn’t have anything else to give. At that moment I looked to the hourglass and saw the last few grains fall into the bottom glass.


I have watched the video related in this story at least three dozen times, both with and without my husband. I generally would never do such a thing, but I keep watching it over and over to try to find out if that was truly me. Do to this though, I cannot say that everything I have related is exactly as I remembered it? Because of the passage of time and my viewing the tape, some of my memories may have been altered to reflect more of what I have now seen versus what I felt at the time.

No, not everything in the story is entirely accurate. Such as the sands in the hour glass were not finished running through the glass, but my husband thought it had a better sound the way it is now written. Furthermore my husband has had me re-write, different segments of this story numerous times, until I have re-written this whole encounter about four times.

Again the bondage’s and the sex are all accurate, I have just added some details, especially colors and what things felt like.

What happened to me is also true. I had some sort of short circuit and went beyond the pain being inflicted upon me twice during this encounter. My husband calls it an Epiphany. I don’t know what it was that happened or if what happened really showed me something deep within myself, but I do know that I don’t go about trying to recreate the effect. While I look back on that day with I guess you might call them fond memories, it took me the better part of a week to recover from the battering I received.

Later, on during the evening of this encounter, as we lay in bed together resting, I let him talk me into watching the un-cut video for the first time. He was so eager to see how it turned out that I couldn’t turn him down. He told me as we watched that he had arranged with his mother to take the kids earlier during the week and while it was a surprise to me, it wasn’t to him. The bondage encounter planning and the arranging of all of the necessary items took every free minute of that week for him to put together. We both laughed when he told me that his mother thought that we were going out to dinner and a movie!

No, this video will never surface. I have written this description, under duress, only because I believe in keeping my word.

One other note of interest. My husband / master has many times tried to have me take out the parts that show that he really is a nice guy. I have refused each time. Yes, in our bondage fantasies I am the submissive, but in our normal lives I am his partner!