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Tales 12

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Challenge of Love

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Coming of Age

In The Dark II

Breanne's Three - Chicago BDSM

The Society of the Golden Rose

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Michael Alexander Stories

Choose Your Own Destiny - The Club

 

13e – Playing Horsey

Without a word you lead Breanne into the depths of the dungeon, heading straight for the center station.   She obediently follows before the leash drags her forward, but she stumbles when you halt before the cruelest of the various torture devices.  She licks her lips in a combination of anticipation and fear, wondering just how cruel a master you really are.  Removing the leash you order her to strip, watching as she quickly peels off the dress bunched up from around her middle.  It pools beneath her feet, a black silken puddle that is quickly joined by the tiny g-string forced upon her by law.  From the glistening moisture you can see on her thighs, she is already highly aroused.

“Have you been a naughty girl, Breanne?” You ask politely.  She turns and looks at you, once more assuming the standing subservient position, hands behind the head, legs spread, and eyes down.

“Yes sir.  I deserve to be punished sir.”  She says, her voice trembling slightly.  You grin and sit down in the slightly overstuffed armchair.  It’s not quite as soft as the ones in the VIP private rooms upstairs, but it will suit your purposes nicely.

“We’ll see.”  You reply.  With a nod of your head toward the nearest table stocked with sex toys you give her the next order.  “Pick out a decent whip, Bre.  Something with multiple strands.” 

Biting her lip she walks to the table closest to the leather bound wooden horse.  Practically each station has a table full of toys, from vibrators to dildos to plugs, to every type of clamp imaginable.  Each table also possesses a largearray of whips, crops, saps, and canes.  Her fingers glide over the various tools of torment to the several models of cat-o-nine tails, finally picking up one of the worst looking of the bunch.  Each strand of the long leather tails is knotted, multiple times and you know that it will sting all the more for the additional knots.  She brings it back, kneeling before you; hands open with the whip lying gently across the palms.  Taking it from her you give it a test swing as she lowers the backs of her hands to her thighs.  Her exposed breasts are too much of a target and without even a warning you flick the whip across her chest.

The blow is a strong one and it leaves her gasping, eyes wide, but maintaining position.  You nod appreciatively, pleased with her decorum and you decide to test her strength before torturing her.

“Suck my cock, Bre.”  You order, scooting forward slightly in the seat, one hand twirling the cat-o-nine-tails.  Without hesitation she slides forward, fingers quickly fumbling at your trousers.  In seconds the button and zipper is undone, pulled down and she is tugging at the cloth, freeing your cock from your boxers. She tugs them completely off, leaving you naked from the waist down.  She makes a delighted humming noise as her mouth closes around your shaft and her fingers begin stroking your balls.

It feels incredible as her tongue swirls around your shaft, licking, tasting, stroking, and sucking.  Her head begins to bob up and down, swallowing as deeply as possible the thick sausage you present. Her bright auburn hair pools in your lap, hiding her face and you push the strands back to see her.  She alternates her mouth with long slow strokes of her fingers and just as she goes back down, pressing the tip of your cock into the back of her mouth, you swing the whip over her head.

It strikes along the small of her back, the tips of the whip curling over her buttocks.  She emits a loud squeal, but other than a gentle vibration on your cock, you feel nothing.  She bobs her head again, clearly trying to ignore the whipping but you swing again, making sure the knotted ends of the cat-o-nine-tails curl over her presented rear end.  Her cry is music to your ears and you can see that her skin is already turning a brilliant pink.  Your cock feels as if it is ready to explode and you send another harsh stroke toward her bottom with a flick of your wrist.

Unlike the other two swings this one causes her to pop up, teeth clenched and eyes closed, keeping only two hands on your cock as she hisses in pain.  Your eyes narrow and harden into agates and you reach up, cupping her chin.

“Why isn’t your mouth on my cock, Bre?”  You demand.

She sucks in a breath, clearly wincing.  “I’m sorry sir.  The whip curled under my bottom.  That last stroke hit me right on the clit.  I wasn’t expecting it, sir.”

You quickly stand up, knocking her backward onto her ass.  She looks up at you in surprise, her eyes going to your outstretched cock, wondering what is happening.  It is two steps to the table and you snag hold of a long skein of silk rope.

“Get up.”  You order and she complies, struggling with her feet in the delicate black high heels strapped to her soles.  With a dominant shove you push her against the side of the leather bound wooden horse.  She trembles as you lift her arms and then put them on the other side of the horse, leaving her standing.  In seconds she is leaning against the torture device, arms not only behind her back, but on the other side of the triangular apparatus, the point of the triangular prism under each arm, forcing her breasts forward.  It forces her to bend her legs, spreading them wide to maintain her balance and you quickly shake out the rope, finding the middle.

You hang it over her neck and bring the rope downward.  Her thighs tremble as you cross the two ends of the rope several times between her breasts, stomach and then clit.  With one length buried in her slippery slit you run both ends through her pussy, making sure her clit rests between the silken strands.  Moving around to the other side you tug the long rope upward into the crack of her buttocks and then run each end through the silver metal loops embedded in her wrist cuffs.

She groans as you pull her tight, clearly uncomfortable from her exposed and difficult position.  As you bring the long ends of the rope back around to her front you spend a few minutes binding her breasts and torso, creating what you hope is a fair example of kinbaku, called shibari by westerners.  Breanne’s eyes close as you finish tightening the ropes, her breasts distended and swollen from the loops around each base, her thighs trembling from her outstretched position.  Then you grab the whip again.

“I don’t think it will matter if you’re expecting this, slut.”  You mutter as you twist your wrist, letting the heavy whip swing clockwise into an underhanded stroke that lands right between Breanne’s legs.  Her wailing gasp makes it clear that the impact of the knotted leather strands have sent shooting pains upward through her body.  You grin, watching her chest heave, trying to expand in the tight ropes, her back arching.  Even more moisture appears on her sex, turning the slightly scarlet flesh glistening and dripping.  You can see darkened spots where the knots have struck her and you swing again, hard, aiming for her clit.

The impact causes her to jump, crying out, her hips pumping wildly into the air.  You don’t hesitate a second, wanting to let her thrusting loins get what they deserve.  Rolling your wrist over and over you turn the whip into a paddle wheel, the long leather strands impacting lightly into her groin over and over, tenderizing her pussy deliciously.  Each stroke seems to lick her with heat and you hear the wet sounds of her petals being bruised.  Finally, when the tears appear in her eyes you stop, knowing that you’ve punished her pussy enough.  At least until she rides the wooden horse behind her.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t whip her tits!  You return to the table and select a vicious looking bamboo cane.  It is no thicker than a pencil but is easily two feet long.  With a loud swish you test it, letting it cut through the air.  With both the cane and your cock extended outward you approach Breanne, letting her see your arousal and her torment all at the same time.

“Kiss it, Bre.  Beg for me to hurt you.”  You whisper, holding the cane up to her mouth.

She doesn’t just kiss the cane, but begins licking it, sucking on the edge of the reed as whispered words seem to fall from her lips between kisses.

“Beat me, sir.  Hurt me.  I can take it.  I deserve the punishment.  I am such a bad girl.  Whip me as hard as you want, wherever you want.  My nipples, my clit, my ass, my feet, my hands, anywhere you want to hurt me you can.  Fuck me sir if you want.  Do anything you want to me!”

You tug the cane from between her lips and swing it sharply against her breasts.  Her cry is almost as immediate as the thin red welt that appears crossing both nipples, perfectly centered across her both breasts.  Her cry fills the dungeon, attracting the attention of the other doms, but you ignore them and swing again, sending a burning line of fire across her bosom.  You pick up the pace, leaving criss-crossing lines rising from the slope to the undersides.  The swollen bulbs of her breasts turn scarlet, still bound by the rope and you only pause when you see the slightly blue tinge of bruises forming on her breasts.

For Breanne, her body is burning, heat exploding upward through her breasts.  Her legs tremble and then she jerks wildly as you lower the cane, probing her robe parted sex with the tip.  You find her clit protruding out, pressured by the silk ropes and you poke it, causing her to jump.  A few little taps brings tremors to her legs and she shudders as waves of pleasure and pain combine, rushing through her body.

“Oh god…yes.”  She whispers, her voice moaning.  You grin, knowing the time is right.  Reaching behind her you quickly unbind the rope, loosening the bondage across her thighs, stomach, and then breasts.  Each tit deflates as the pressure is released and you get the first glimpse of the true damage you’ve caused.  Each breast is marked with red lines, hot and tender, purple and blue tints showing along the wicked welts.  You release her hands next, pulling her upward to stand straight and then remove the rope from the back of her neck.

“It’s time, Breanne.”  You say as you pull the small footstool out from under the wooden pony.  She takes a shuddering breath, resigned to her fate.  The softening up you have given her will only make her time on the wooden horse even worse, but like a good little slut she steps up onto the stool and swings one leg over the leather bound triangle.  All of her weight tilts to the stool and she gingerly lowers herself down, only to let out a whimper and rise back up.  You move around to the other side and yank out a second stool, giving her equal footing above the triangle, her already punished clit a mere inch from the leather apex of the triangular prism.

You reach up to the bondage collar around her neck and tug it clockwise until the heavy metal loop that earlier held the leash is at the nape of her neck.  A small silver chain with clips from the table allows you to restrain her hands in the small of her back, unable to touch the horse and keeping her back arched and breasts pushed forward.  She stands on tip toe, obviously unwilling to lower herself down upon the device.

“Bre, you have a choice.  Either settle yourself now or deal with it when I yank out the stools.”  You say.  “Decide.”

She looks over at you, biting her lip.  “It’s hard sir.  I know you want me to do it, but my pussy hurts already and I just…”  She replies, shifting her weight back and forth between her legs.  Already her calves are trembling and you know that just waiting will cause her to lower her cunt to the painful edge of the horse. 

You reach up and stroke her cheek, leaning inward for a soft kiss.  “Breanne, what are you?”

She sighs, leaning against you, still holding out on the inevitable.  “I’m a slut, sir.”

“What kind of a slut?”

“A pain slut.”  She whispers.

“Breanne, should I wait for you to lower yourself down, or should I pull out the stools and let you fall, crushing that beautiful little clit of yours?  Be honest with me.”  You softly stroke her cheek.

With a whimper tears fill her eyes.  “You should pull the stools out, sir.”  She whispers, her voice cracking.  You run one finger down her neck over the slope of her breast.  Feeling the raised welts, you find her nipple, gently rubbing it as she quivers beneath your touch. Your hand moves down her body, touching, stroking, and easing her aching muscles as you kneel down below the wooden pony.  Your hands slide along her trembling calves and you reach down, grasping both stools.

Her body tilts forward as you yank them out from under her, falling the last inch.  Her legs kick for a moment as she struggles for balance, your hand coming up to steady her.  Her wail is piercing, filled with agony and pleasure, her eyes closed, her face reflecting the turmoil and sensations brimming upward from her crushed clit.  You bend down, looking between her legs and notice that the leather is pressed sharply upward into her slit, spreading the enflamed petals wide.  The small nub of her clit is peeking out of its hood, exposed to the air as she begins to rock back and forth, trying to ease the pressure on her perineum. 

The delicate arches of her feet curl as her legs swing, trying desperately to find purchase, anything to relieve the crushing weight of her body centered between her legs.  She groans, her eyes closing as her body settles and she tries to remain still, with only the telltale shifting of her hips indicating her discomfort.  With a sigh of satisfaction you go to the toy table and pick up a set of heavy duck billed nipple clamps.  Each one weighs several pounds with large heavy iron balls cleverly attached to the ends of clamps.  You bring them back over to the tormented girl sitting painfully before you on the wooden horse and you flick the nipple of her right breast until she winces.  It takes only seconds for you attach the weight and clamps, listening to her cries of pain as she rocks more forcefully upon the raised edge of the horse.  The other breast quickly follows suit and you step back, watching the weights swing back and forward matching her thrusting hips.

There is only one thing missing from her torment and you find them sitting under the table.  Two heavy weights, seemingly of cast iron and bound with leather straps find their way into your hands.  You swing them over toward Breanne’s feet and lift the first one up, quickly wrapping the leather strap to her ankle.  It takes only a moment to secure it, letting it dangle a full two inches off the floor.  She is already groaning, her body tilting toward that foot.  You move around the horse and proceed to strap the other weight to her opposite ankle.  Breanne quivers under your touch, moaning as the additional weight drives her downward, splitting her cunt wide apart.

Finally you step back, admiring your work. Her eyes flutter as she rocks back and forth, her swollen and bruised pussy seemingly cleaved in half by the edge of the horse.  With every movement her clit is pinched between her body and the leather, eliciting a harsh cry from her lips.  Her welted breasts seemed to stretch as the weights on her nipples dragged them down, swinging in time to her rocking in the saddle.  Her entire body seems to be struggling and you watch in admiration as she torments herself, riding the monstrous device before you.

Twenty minutes later tears stream down her cheeks and you can tell she is near the end of her endurance.  Your rock hard cock is ready for the next stage and you carefully remove the weights from her ankles and breasts before untying her wrists and lifting her off the wooden horse.  She collapses on the floor, curling into a fetal position.  You kneel down next to her, laying one gentle hand on her back.

“Are you okay, Breanne?”  You ask patiently.

“Yes, sir” she replied, her voice tiny and pain filled.  “I’ll be able to continue in just a moment.

You nod, pleased with her response. You look out across the floor of the dungeon, your cock still throbbing in need.  Now is the time to decide whether to take Breanne to the barrel or the vault.

Take her to the barrel and throw her backwards over it.  Then you can plunge yourself into her hot, swollen, tender depths and release some of YOUR pent up tensions. (16a)

You decide that the Vault is another excellent option.  You can lay her over it, face down, and give her the spanking she so richly deserves.  Then she already is in the position for a decent fucking. (16b)