Tales 12

Tales 11

Tales Vol.9

Deep Waters

Tales NHSP 8

Challenge of Love

Tales Vol. 1

Coming of Age

In The Dark II

Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM

The Society of the Golden Rose

The Silver Locke

Michael Alexander Stories

Choose Your Own Destiny - The Club


12a – Clutching at Clothespins

Immediately she falls to her knees beside you, head down, her entire demeanor changed in a flash.  Gone is the self confident woman who could dare ask such a question, replaced by a trembling twenty year old girl who doesn’t know what unspeakable torments you might inflict upon her during the next hour.  She spreads her legs wide, the see-thru dress riding up her thighs and exposing a pair of black panties that had already been visible through the dress.  She lifts her hands, turning those palms up and she lays them on her thighs, a common position of respect for submissives.

You study her for a moment, delighting in the way she keeps her eyes down, unwilling to meet your gaze.  It is respectful, perfectly in character, and you wonder which side of her personality, the dominatrix or the slave, more truly matches her soul.  You reach out to the bucket and dig through it.  You push aside the leather wrist and ankle cuffs, even a dog leash and find the choker in seconds, sitting atop her collection of clothespins.  You pull out the leather collar and drop it on the table, but reach back in and snag two of the small wooden clamps.

“Expose your breasts, slave.”  You order her, your voice hard and cold.  She doesn’t hesitate, hands moving up to untie the small straps behind her neck.  The front of the dress falls and her bosom is even more perfect bare.  She peels the dress down to her waist and moves her hands to the back of her neck, pushing her breasts out slightly.  It is amazing sight.  Had she been wearing a bra she would have easily filled a “C” cup, and each orange sized breast was firm and capped with a large pink nipple.

A closer look reveals other interesting facts.  She is covered in faded welts that crisscross her chest like the stripes of on a zebra and proceed down her torso to disappear into the bunched up dress at her waist.  You wonder how far they go down, and resolve to check her rear end as well. 

You lift the first of the two clothespins and hold it out, clearly offering it to Bre.  She licks her lips once and leans closer, obviously wanting you to place it.  You shrug and position the wooden clamp directly over her right nipple, letting it close deliciously on the large pink nub.  She lets out a small gasp, her body rocking forward slightly.  You scoop up the other peg and move to her left breast, the wooden clamp tightly binding against her hardened nipple.  Each clothespin sticks straight out from her chest, a delightful site for any hardened S&M lover.

“Wrists” you order.  There is no need for long commands.  She takes her hands away from her neck and holds out both arms, literally placing them in your lap.  You remove the wrist cuffs from her bucket and begin with her right arm, lifting it up.  As you begin to buckle on the heavy duty leather cuff, you feel her left hand stroke your cock through your trousers, tweaking the tip and playing with it.  You decide to ignore her while you feel the delicate pleasure seep up through your loins.  When you finish with her right arm you switch to the left.  She switches too, her cuffed right wrists making long stroking motions, as if she’s trying to jack you off right there at the table, through your pants.
When you are finished you move her arms off your lap.  She obediently complies with your positioning, sinking once more into the submissive posture she adopted at the start.  She sinks down, spreading her legs apart, palms up, head down.  You gaze at her for a moment and then give her your next order.  “Stand up.”

She does.  She gets to her feet, standing tall and immediately puts her hands back behind her neck.  This forces her breasts forward, straining, causing the little wooden clamps to jiggle.  “Put one leg up here.”  You order, patting the spare chair at your table.  She lifts her foot and you take a moment to admire her petite arch, red painted toes, and delicate bone structure.  The shoe is sexy as hell as well.  You also immediately notice that she isn’t wearing a pair of panties, the two moist petals peeking out of the shadows.  You grab the appropriate cuff and spend a moment strapping the leather and fur monstrosity to her ankle.  A number of metal loops are embedded in the cuff and you realize that this is no prop, but the real thing.  It was meant for real restraint. 

You lift her foot and push it off the chair and motion her to give you the other leg.  She complies, maintaining her balance perfectly despite being on one leg.  Her hands remain clasped at the back of her neck.  You place the second ankle cuff on her, running your hands up and down her leg.  With a gentle squeeze of her knee you push her leg off the chair, leaving her standing before you, now dressed more appropriately for her position.

“Kneel.”  You command.   Up and Down.  She sinks gracefully to the floor, once more assuming her submissive position and you pull the collar from her bucket.  She tilts her head as you buckle it in place, fingers caressing her neck and shoulders.  Lastly you grab the leash, clipping the end to the embedded metal loop attached to her collar.

“I think we can proceed downstairs now.”  You say offhandedly.  Breanne nods and rises.  With a lick of her full lips she grabs her bucket and begins to lead you to a dark stairwell that sits opposite the VIP Lounge Entryway.  You’ve been downstairs before, so you are familiar with the setting.  You follow Breanne anyway, keeping hold of the leash, enjoying the sight of her naked back, along with the glimpses of her clamped breasts.  You grin as the stairs cause her breasts to bounce and you see her taking the steps with an extra force, causing her clamps to jump even more vigorously.  You both pass the main floor landing and then proceed deeper into the bowels of the Club.

Breanne opens a door marked “Private” and leads you into a large room.  You’ve been here before, but this time is no different as you look around the various stations.  The dungeon basement is not a place for privacy.  It’s set up in nine stations, though admittedly four of them are repeats.  In the back corners of the room stand two leather covered St. Andrew’s crosses, large “X” shaped wooden frames each with the appropriate hardware for binding subjects.  They are a little different, with one spreading the limbs of the victim a little wider, but are similar enough to be lumped together.  Between them is the “T” bench, a device that resembles something a weightlifter might use.  A large padded surface is capped with a spar with two upright masts at each end.  Metal clips are attached through two ropes which disappear into pulleys.  You know there is a winch and a handle underneath so that you can spread your captives legs or arms to the fullest.

On the left wall sit two table racks, clearly leftovers from the Spanish Inquisition.  While not equipped for stretching someone to the fullest extent, they serve the purpose of restraint well, spreading nominally both arms and legs while completely eliminating movement.  On the opposite wall sits two more stations: the vault and the barrel.  You know from experience that both are designed to restrain a slave while positioning them perfectly for intercourse.  Heavy metal racks hang above each.

Directly in front of you is a pair of wooden stocks.  It is a complete set, with options for both ankles and wrists, along with the mandatory head hole.  You look past this medieval contraption and study the object in the very center of the room: a wooden pony.   It is nothing more than an elaborate saw horse, cut so that one edge a blunt point.  This one is padded in leather, further reducing the impact of its cruelty, but you can imagine just how bad it would feel if mounted on it for any extended length of time.

You and Breanne do not have the place to yourselves.  Two other couples are involved in activities in the basement.  In the back corner a man has been bound to one of the St. Andrew’s crosses, his naked body writhing under a harsh whipping from an almost naked woman.  You watch her work in admiration, her body rippling with feminine grace as she strikes her captive.

On one of the tables to your left is a beautiful black girl, her skin like dark chocolate.  She has been oiled, her arms and legs outstretched and a grinning man stands above her, holding a burning vanilla scented candle. She cries out as drops of hot wax fall, searing her clit.  You notice that her breasts are already encased with wax moldings.

There are also a series of tables located around the room, each containing a wide variety of torture implements.  There was nothing that could inflict permanent damage mind you, but items that are diabolic in their sexual nature.  A room attendant walks around, keeping an eye on things and restocking the tables when needed.

Breanne stops and looks at you, her hands once more behind her head.  Clearly she waits for your decision.  Which station will you take her too?  You immediately rule out the vault and the barrel.  Those will be last.  So you look around at the other stations.

The spare St. Andrew’s cross should be first.  She needs a decent whipping and that affords the best options for it.  It’s easy to turn her around to get both sides as well. (13a)

The table rack looks interesting.  Hot wax can be fun, but there is a collection of toys that could keep you entertained and Breanne moaning for a long time.  Take her to the table and tie her down! (13b)

The T Bench is an interesting device: part table rack and part cross.  You love the idea of tying Breanne down, stretching her apart at the seams and going to work on the tender area between her legs. (13c)

The stocks are more your cup of tea.  Bend her over, ram the awesome variety of available dildos into her body, maybe even yourself, crop the presented rear end, clamp her breasts…the options are practically endless.  You notice that the stock’s height can be adjusted as well. (13d)

The wooden pony is what you are attracted to.  It is barbaric, cruel, and yet perfect for tormenting a girl like Breanne.  There is even a chair and small table so you can watch in comfort.  Will you tie her down? Leave her something to stand upon?  Bind her arms or breasts?  Ah…the possibilities! (13e)