My Custom Made Leather Accessories

                                               CH 1

       Want to know when you’ve been married too long? Its when you come home with whip marks on your breasts and your husband doesn’t notice.

I had just become a sex slave to another man and had spent the afternoon being tortured. I’d been tied to a bed,  whipped and screwed for hours and when I walked in the house my husband didn’t even look up from the television. He ought to have sensed something!

To be fair, my husband didn’t know I was someone’s slave, but still I felt that he should have seen that I was different now.

I never expected to become some man’s sex slave, in fact I’d pretty much given up on sex all together. I was forty one, over weight, and so used to being married to the same dull man that the thought of change never entered my mind. Not divorce, not having an affair, nothing. My life was just a routine of work, home, cooking, cleaning, television and the next morning getting up and starting all over again. I was so used to my dreary life that I didn’t give it a thought.

       The washer was on the blink, so I took the dirty clothes to the laundromat. I was waiting for the dry cycle to finish when a man walked in. I glanced up and met his eyes and something funny happened.

       I got a strange thrill when he looked at me. The man held my gaze until I blushed and looked down. When I peeked up he was putting clothes into a washer but he caught me looking and smiled. I blushed again.

       I’m not used to having men look into my eyes. At my age, and after giving birth to four kids, I knew exactly what I look like.

       I wasn’t exactly fat but could stand to lose a few pounds. My face used to be pretty, but twenty years of kids, bills, and a lazy husband had left their mark. My legs were still nice, but no one saw them. I never wore skirts anymore and my husband stopped looking long ago. My biggest asset was my chest.

My breasts developed when I was twelve and got big very quickly. People stared at them by the time I was fourteen. Now they are even bigger, and heavy and saggy. When the man looked at me I instinctively pulled my sweater closed.

       I was folding my things when he walked over. I felt him beside me and desperately tried not to blush. He got straight to the point.

       “I’d like to get to know you,” he said. Talk about direct!

       My throat was suddenly very dry. “Why?” I managed to ask.

       “I want to tie you up and play with your breasts,” he replied.

My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe he’d just said something like that. I looked at him in amazement.

He looked back smiling calmly. Even in my astonishment I noticed that he had nice blue eyes, calm and intelligent looking. He didn’t seem like a weirdo, but then . . .

“Do you always go around saying things like that to women?” I demanded.

“No, you’re the first,” he said calmly.

“Do I look like some cheap tramp you can pick up?” I asked.

“No, I wouldn’t want you if you were.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Please don’t be offended,” he continued politely. “For what it’s worth, I get the feeling that you are a nice woman.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” I said.

“Oh, I’m just too old to play games,” he said.

“So you hang around laundries looking to pick up women?”

“No.”

I was surprised at his simple answer. I tilted my head in disbelief.

“I don’t try to pick up women in laundries, or anywhere else,” he said. “But I noticed your eyes when I walked in, and I saw something special.”

“Oh?” I said. “It was my eyes you noticed?”

He laughed openly. “Yes, your eyes, but of course I noticed your breasts too.” He looked at them unabashedly. “Magnificent.”

I must admit that I felt flattered.

“And you want to tie me up?” I said. “Are you some kind of pervert?”

He shrugged. “Depends on your definition, I suppose. I like to tie ladies up and make love to them, but I’m not a sadist, I don’t enjoy causing harm.”

“What if the woman doesn’t want to be tied up?” I asked.

“Then she doesn’t get tied up,” he replied reasonably. “I don’t kidnap women and I’m not a rapist.”

“Do you tie up a lot of women?” I asked.

“Not lately, but I have in the past.”

“Oh really?”

“I’ve never met a lady who doesn’t enjoy it.”

I looked at him in disbelief.

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “I honestly believe that almost every woman thinks about being tied up, if only one time in her life.”

“Every woman on Earth wants to be tied up?” I asked.

“Of course not, I’m sure there are some who don’t,” he said. “But every lady that I’ve asked has eventually let me tie her up.”

“Eventually? How do you talk them into it?” I meant it sarcastically but he took my question seriously.

“I build trust with them.”

I believed him. He was nice looking and had a direct air about him, I was sure that a lot of women would be attracted to him.

“So you think I’m one of those women? You think I would allow you let you tie me up just because you ask?”

“No,” he said. “You would want to get to know me first.”

“I think you just asked me to let you tie me up.”

“No, I told you I wanted to tie you,” he smiled. “It was a conversation starter. Now I’d like us to meet again socially and get to know each other. When you get comfortable with me I hope you’ll decide to let me tie you up.”

I was about to ask what he intended to do to me once I was tied, when it occurred to me that I was actually discussing bondage with a total stranger!

“I’m a married woman,” I said. “I have a husband and four children.”

“Leave them at home,” he said.

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” I said. I picked up my basket and started toward the door.

He walked with me and held the door open. “Forgive me for being so direct,” he said. “I hope you’ll think my invitation over.”

“Fat chance!”

“I will be here a week from today,” he said. “At the same time.”

I didn’t reply as I loaded my basket into my car.

By the time I got home I was a nervous wreck. It was a long time since a man had shown interest in me and it was both flattering and disturbing. At home I tried to be nice to my husband and even hoped to have sex for reassurance, but as usual he didn’t notice. He fell asleep in the recliner, then came to bed and snored all night long. I tried again the next night, and the night after that, with no success. I grew resentful, which was an emotion I’d suppressed for years. Why couldn’t he see that I needed some attention? I stewed about it all week and finally decided that I would go back to the laundromat.

I was so nervous that I was shaking on Saturday. When I arrived at the laundromat I drove around the block trying to build enough courage to go in. Finally I took a deep breath and parked my car.

The man showed up a few minutes after I arrived. He smiled warmly and I felt weak in the knees.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I was afraid that I’d scared you off.”

“I’m just here to do laundry,” I said haughtily.

“Come on, no games,” he said. “Either you are interested, or you’re not. What is it to be?”

I blushed, then furious at myself, I said: “It is to be.”

“Splendid,” he said, as if I’d just accepted an invitation to lunch. “Lets go.”

“What, right now?” I gasped.

“Yes, now. Finish the laundry later.” He walked out and I followed him.

We got into his car and he drove to a motel. It was just an ordinary motel, not fancy, not run down. I waited in the car while he went into the office and got a room. He took a small satchel from the back seat and led me into the room. My heart was pounding as I followed him.

       Inside he closed the drapes, then dropped the satchel on the dresser and took out several coils of rope.

“Are you serious about tying me up?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Did you think I was kidding?”

I picked up a coil. It was ordinary white cotton clothesline. My mind was spinning. I’d made up my mind to have sex with this man, this total stranger, but I’d forgotten about being tied.

“I thought we were supposed to meet over coffee or something,” I said. “Get to know each other first.”

He took my hands in his and looked deep into my eyes. I didn’t look into his, I fell into them, like falling into a deep rich blue pool.

“I don’t think its necessary,” he said softly. “Do you?”

“No,” I whispered.

“I want to undress you, tie you up and make love to you,” he said. “Right here, right now.”

“All right.” 

“If you are afraid of being tied, we can forget it,” he said.

I looked at him helplessly. I didn’t know what to say.

“Have you ever been tied up?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Ok, let’s try to get you used to the idea.” He took the coil from my hand and unrolled it.

“Give me your hands,” he said. “In front.”

I wallowed nervously, then extended my hands. He crossed my wrists and wrapped the rope around them. He tied it firmly but not painfully.

“See if you can get loose,” he said. I twisted my wrists but couldn’t loosen the rope. He stepped close, grasped my wrists and raised my arms above my head. He held them with one hand and touched my breast with the other.

I gasped in surprise. His hand roamed over my chest, his touch was firm and confident. I blushed  ands stared at the floor until he touched my chin and lifted my face. He smiled at me and his smile was comforting.

‘I’m lost,’ I thought. ‘He’s going to do anything he wants and I’m going to let him.’

He unbuttoned my shirt part way, then slipped his fingers inside my bra. The backs of his fingers swept across my nipple, then pinched it lightly.

“See that hook over there?” he said. I looked and saw a sturdy coat hook beside a closet. “I’m going to tie your wrists to that hook while I undress you. If you aren’t comfortable with that say so and I’ll untie you. Understand?” 

I nodded. “Tie me to the hook,” I whispered.

He smiled in delight and led me to the hook. He gently pressed my back against the wall, lifted my hands above my head and tied them to the hook. I felt vulnerable, feminine and sexy. He returned his attention to my breasts, this time he used both hands.

My breasts weren’t very sensitive and I’d never enjoyed having them touched. It wasn’t that I didn’t like having them touched, its just that it did nothing for me, even my nipples were immune to arousal. Early in the marriage my husband had given them a lot of attention, but I made the mistake of telling him that I couldn’t feel anything. After that he seemed to lose interest in them.

The man, whom I’ll call JR, seemed delighted with my breasts. He squeezed and fondled them with great interest. His playing with my breasts didn’t excite me, but the situation did.

He finished undoing my buttons. My bra clasped in front and when he unhooked it my breasts spilled out. I hoped he wasn’t turned off by they way they sagged. They’re still firm but definitely need support, but I needn’t have worried, he loved them.

He lifted my breasts and felt their heftiness. He jiggled them up and down and from side to side.

“Do you like them?” I asked.

“Damn right I do,” he replied.  

He played with my nipples, gently at first, and then grew a little rough. He squeezed until it became painful, but oddly I didn’t mind. He realized that he was growing intense and paused.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“Do what ever you want,” I answered.

He grinned like a boy and squeezed harder. “I’m going to see how much pain you can endure,” he said. “But I’ll stop when you tell  me to.”

“All right.”

He squeezed harder and harder. He watched my face and grasped my nipples so tight that I felt a strange deep intense feeling I’d never experienced before. I wasn’t sure it was pain or passion, but I didn’t want him to stop. 

JR really tormented my breasts. He pulled on them, he twisted them, he pinched them, and squeezed very hard. He pressed his thumbs against my nipples until they flattened against my ribs. He pinched my nipples and the flesh all around my breasts. His fingers felt like little mouths nipping here and there and I began to enjoy it. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was surrounded by hundreds of tiny birds who were flitting around my breasts pecking at them. I had a strange image that I was going to be nibbled to an erotic death as some strange form of sacrifice.

JR began to go easier on me, his pinches became lighter and softer. I was about to ask him to pinch harder when he lunged forward and bit my nipple!

I wasn’t expecting that and I squealed in surprise. He didn’t bite hard, but it felt wonderful and I experienced a thrill that I’d never felt in my life. It was so sweet, so intense that it amazed me.

JR held both breasts and pressed his face between them. I felt his skin against mine, the faint stubble of his beard, his breath, his warm moist tongue on my nipples.

“Bite again,” I gasped.

I groaned in delight when I felt his teeth again. He sucked my breast into his mouth and squeezed hard, hard, HARD! I was in such delight that I thought I might have an orgasm.

Then he stopped.

He simply took his mouth and hands away from my breasts and unsnapped my jeans. He slowly slipped them down to my ankles.

I blinked in surprise. One second he was interested in my breasts, now his attention had shifted to somewhere else. I wanted his mouth back on my breast but he was looking at my panties.

No one had looked at my body in years. I was embarrassed by my thick waist and the faint bulge in my tummy, but JR didn’t notice.

“Nice, very nice,” he said softly.  

I looked down and saw that my breasts were bright pink. I felt my pulse throbbing in my nipples and wanted him to torment them some more.

“Would you do those things to my breasts some more?” I asked.

“My pleasure. He took my nipple back into his mouth. It felt wonderful and I moaned with pleasure.

For the first time in my life I was experiencing arousal from my breasts.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered.

He played with my breasts for a long time. Eventually he sat back on his heels and looked at my crotch. ‘Look all you want,’ I thought. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my jeans.

I expected he’d take my panties off but he didn’t, not right away. He just looked at them. I opened my legs and waited.

“Well now, what do you think I should do now?” he asked with a smile.

“Anything you want,” I replied.

He extended his hand close to my pussy but didn’t touch me. I thrust my pelvis forward a little. He chuckled. I thrust further. He drew back. I giggled and pushed my belly as far as I could.

“Oh, all right,” he said. His hand got closer until at last he touched my tummy just above the band of my panties. His touch was very light. He made a tiny circle with his fingertip. He widened the circle until he got near my pussy, then he stopped. I groaned.

He touched my upper thighs with both hands, again softly, teasingly. His fingers crept upward closer and closer to my pussy, but again he stopped. I could have wept in frustration.

He turned away, then suddenly turned back and grabbed my pussy.

His hand clamped my crotch in a powerful squeeze. There was nothing soft or teasing now, he lifted me off the floor.

With just one hand JR lifted me off my feet! His fingers were strong and they held me like I was a child, and I had an orgasm.

An orgasm! I felt thunder and lightning in my pussy. Sweet, hot, deep, hard shudders pulsed upward from the pit of my soul to the top of my head. My eyes rolled up and everything went hazy.

When I opened my eyes a few minutes later JR was still holding me off the floor. He was watching my face with an expression of satisfaction. I blushed with pleasure. He smiled back, but then a look of determination came over his face. He leaned against me pressing his chest against mine, his grip between my legs intensified and he lifted me higher. I was being crushed between his chest and the wall.

My pussy was very sensitive, it was still throbbing and I wanted to relax and savor the moment, but he had other ideas. His free hand squeezed my breast very hard. I looked at him in puzzlement, I was used to sex with my husband where he rolled over and fell asleep as soon as I’d had an orgasm, but JR was different, as far as he was concerned, we were just getting started. His hand held me firm.

I was so sensitive that I tried to squirm free but my feet kicked helplessly. I was like a child in his grip. Finally he lowered me to my feet and removed his hand. I couldn’t stand, my legs gave way and I fell to my knees. The ropes on my wrists jerked tight and I squeaked in pain but my pussy flashed hot again and the throbbing in my breasts returned.

JR knelt and brushed my hair out of my eyes, then he smiled and caressed the undersides of my arms.

“Ok?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I gasped. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

He chuckled and lifted me to my feet. I started to say something but he kissed me. His lips closed over mine and his tongue thrust into my mouth. I opened for him but that was all I could do, I was helpless!

He closed his hands over the ropes at my wrists. He ground his body against my breasts. His hands, his chest, his mouth were sources of pure delight for me. He was in control and all I could do was relax and enjoy.

During that long delicious kiss my legs opened by themselves. He slid a hand slowly down my body to my belly. I expected him to touch my pussy and hoped he would pick me up again, but instead he grasped my panties. He broke the kiss and without warning he tore my panties off!

My pelvis jerked forward, my panties held for a second, then the fabric gave way. The sound of tearing cloth was exciting. (Let me tell you, a woman hasn’t lived until she’s had her panties ripped off by a strong man determined to get at her pussy.)

JR tossed them aside and grabbed my crotch again. His middle finger slipped inside and I had another orgasm.

His fingers explored me as if he owned the rights to my body. I didn’t care, I wanted him to do anything he pleased.

I wanted him inside me right then and there! HIM! His cock, not his fingers. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want anymore warm up, I wanted to be fucked!

JR stepped away and looked at my pussy. I opened my legs wider and ground my hips seductively. He grinned in delight and folded his arms across his chest as if he was inspecting me. I dropped my hips and opened my knees a bit wider. I wiggled shamelessly and opened my legs as wide as I could. I dropped until my weight rested on my ropes. The ropes tightened but I didn’t care.

I’d never displayed myself like that in my life, not even to my husband, yet there I was, showing my pussy with total abandon. I thrust my hips back and forth and jiggled my breasts. I’d have done more if I hadn’t been tied to that hook.

“Wow,” he said admiringly. “Did you ever work as a stripper?”

“No,” I replied. “But I’ll sign up for classes if you like.”

“All right, but you only get to dance in front of me.”

He stepped close and touched my face. He smiled tenderly, then his eyes hardened into that look of determination. He twined his fingers in my hair and tilted my face up, then he kissed me again. The kiss lasted a long, sweet time. When he finished I didn’t think I could talk because my breath had been taken away.

“Do you want me to dance for you, or have you something else in mind?” I managed to whisper.

“I’m thinking of putting you on the bed,” he said. “With a little more rope.”

“What are you waiting for?”

He chuckled and untied my wrists.

I slipped off my shirt and bra and tossed them to the floor. JR took more rope from his satchel and motioned me onto the bed. I sat down.

“How do you want me?” I asked.

“Spread eagle,” he replied. “I’m going to tie your arms and legs apart.”                                     

“Ooh.” A tiny tingle ran through my belly.

I sat on the bed and held out my arms while he tied ropes to each wrist. He left a short length of rope then knelt and tied my ankles. He stood and motioned for me to lie back. I felt a faint misgiving, was I wise to let this man tie me to a bed? Oh well, it was too late to worry now. I lay back and stretched my arms out to the side.

JR decided that I wasn’t properly centered, so he had me shift over a bit. I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but I discovered that when it comes to tying up females, he is a perfectionist. Everything has to be just right.

When I was finally exactly where he wanted, he stretched one of  my arms very tight and tied it to the corner of the bed, then he tied the other arm.

He pointed at my legs and made a butterfly motion with his hands. I opened my legs.

“Wider,” he commanded. I obeyed.

He tied my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed.

I’d never been so helpless in my life, I was spread open and vulnerable.

JR sat beside me and looked at my body, he looked for a long time. I wasn’t used to being naked in front of anyone and I felt awkward.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to look at,” I said.

“Oh yes there is,” he said firmly.

He caressed my leg, slid his along the inside of my thigh toward my pussy.

He kissed my breasts, first one, then the other. He licked my breast then slowly worked his tongue down my chest, past my navel and stopped an inch from my pussy. “And it tastes good.”

His hand crept closer to my pussy and it was driving me wild. I opened my legs a bit wider.

“Hmm, you can move your legs,” he observed. “I’ll need to tie them tighter.”

“My legs are tight enough,” I said.

He chuckled evilly and slipped his hand a tiny bit closer to my pussy, close, but not close enough. I bit back a groan of frustration. He played with my breasts and thighs and tummy until I was trembling.

“This isn’t fair,” I said after a while.

“Why not?”

“I’m naked, but you still have your clothes on.”

He shrugged and began to undress.

JR was in his mid forties at the time. He was fit and strong and as soon as he took off his pants I discovered that he was very male.

I expected him to crawl on top of me and screw me senseless but its difficult for a man to screw a woman in a flat spread eagle position, it helps to have her legs up. JR had other ideas anyway, he wanted to play with my body some more.

He knelt beside me and kissed me again. There are many unique things about the man and one of them is that when he kisses me he goes all out. There are never any perfunctory little pecks. JR kisses with passion and a great deal of skill and even his lightest kiss makes my pussy tingle.

JR kissed me until I was light headed, and all the time one hand was near my pussy, the other was squeezing a breast. Mid way through a long, sweet kiss his finger found my clitoris and set it on fire. In seconds my hips were jerking in rhythm with his finger. He broke the kiss, made himself comfortable leaning on one arm and tickled my pussy until I thought I’d go out of my mind. He watched my face closely and each time I got close to coming he stopped. I pleaded with him, I whimpered, I begged and almost cried until finally he allowed me to have another orgasm.

I think if it hadn’t been for those ropes I would have levitated off the bed.

I’d never had more than a single orgasm at any time in my life, and here I had experienced several within half an hour. If I’d been with my husband we would have rolled over and gone to sleep after the first one, but things were to be different with JR, he kept playing with my pussy.

I discovered that one of the nice things about bondage is that a woman can just relax and accept what ever is being done to her. (Actually she has no choice). She’s helpless so there’s no guilt, no tension, no pressure to perform, just lay back and enjoy.

My pussy was ultra sensitive but JR didn’t care, he just kept playing with it. He kissed me, nuzzled my neck, nibbled my breasts and watched my face while his hand stayed busy between my legs.

There was nothing I could do but bite my lip and try not to scream while he brought me to another orgasm.

When I was breathing normally JR got up and sat across the room. I lay in my ropes and floated in a wonderful dreamy haze. After a while old habits kicked in and I thought that I ought to get up and go do something productive. I raised my head and looked at JR. He seemed to know what I was thinking, he just smiled and leaned back in the chair. ‘Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to lie here’. I lay back and closed my eyes. Eventually I dozed off.

I woke after about twenty minutes and remembered where I was. I wriggled happily and tested my ropes, they were still tight.

JR walked over. His cock was hard and I looked at it in anticipation. Was he ready to put it inside me at last?

Nope.

He knelt between my legs and looked at my pussy. And JR didn’t just look at my pussy, he relished it. I think that he looked at it more in that single afternoon than my husband had in twenty years. He gazed at it for several minutes, then bent forward and kissed it.

Just a simple kiss, I felt his warm lips, his breath, his skin against my thigh. It was only a kiss but I had a teensy tiny orgasm.

I gasped and arched my back, then I raised my head and looked at him in pure astonishment! How in the world had that happened? He grinned and bent forward again, only this time his lips hovered an inch away. I waited, then lifted my pelvis. He raised his face away. I thrust up again. He chuckled. Oh, the bastard!

“You like torturing women, don’t you?” I groaned.

“I sure do.”

I flopped back. “You should just use a whip on me. It would be kinder.”

“I intend to,” he said.

My head jerked up. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I was joking, I don’t want to be whipped.”

“You will eventually,” he said confidently. “And I believe you will like it.”

“I doubt that. I’m not into pain.”

“Were you into bondage before today?” he asked.

“That’s different.”

“No it isn’t.”

He began teasing my crotch. His fingers slipped across my skin, lightly, delicately, just barely touching me. His fingers circled my pussy, getting closer and closer, then sliding away. I tried to lie still, tried not to let him see how he was driving me wild. I was doing pretty good until he kissed my pussy again. That set off another micro earthquake between my legs.

I had barely exhaled in a long shuddering sigh when I felt his weight shift, then his mouth was on my pussy.

His whole mouth. It was open and hot and moist and his tongue slid inside me and every erotic experience in my life was eclipsed in a split second. Shall I describe the most wonderful, bone shaking, bed rattling orgasm? Could I? No matter what I try to put into words, it just won’t touch the explosion that roared through my entire being!

And it didn’t stop! He kept licking and probing until I thought his tongue must be a foot long. It seemed to find every hidden nook inside me. I loved what he was doing, but my pussy was so sensitive that I thought I’d lose my mind if he didn’t stop. I was thrashing and fighting my ropes and I was soon begging for mercy. He chuckled and kept going. My pleas grew more frantic until I was almost screaming. Finally he raised his mouth off me.

I was glad he did and I was sorry he did.

I was rolling from side to side like a stick in the surf. I didn’t realize that I was rocking myself. It was like an outside force was playing on my body. I felt like a child being tossed back and forth.

JR stood and poured a glass of water and offered it to me. I shook my head absently. I wasn’t thirsty. He sat down and watched me.

I was still rocking, part of my mind wondered why I was doing that. I’d never done it before, but it just felt good, so I rocked and rocked and slowly tapered off.

“It seems you like the feel of the ropes,” JR commented.

I looked at him in puzzlement, then realized that my rocking motion was alternately tightening the ropes on my wrists and ankles. I raised my head and looked at my wrists. The ropes were still very tight and my hands were pink. I pulled against the ropes straining my muscles. He was right, I did like the feel.

I let my head fall. “A lot of new things are happening today.”

“Um hmm, and we’ve only been here an hour,” he said.

“My God, is that all?”

“Do you need a break? Shall I untie you?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Ah ha,” he laughed. “It looks like you’ve found some new pleasures in life. Ready for the whip?”

I felt a tiny bit of worry when he said that, but it passed. I’d already decided to trust this man and I owed him for all the wonderful things he had done to me. If he wanted to whip me I’d let him.

“I’m ready.”

He dug into his bag a came out with a little whip. I was surprised at how small it was. I expected something like a long black leather bull whip, but this was only about two feet long, made of thin strands of rubber and it was bright blue.

“Is that really a whip?” I asked.

“It sure is.” JR flicked it around a time or two, then knelt between my legs.

“Where are you going to whip me?” I asked. In reply he brushed it over my breasts. It didn’t hurt, in fact, it felt rather nice. ‘Maybe he’s joking about this,’ I thought.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Go ahead.”

He smacked the whip across my breast. It stung faintly, but didn’t really hurt. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows questioningly. He hit harder, then harder again. It took about ten blows before I really began to notice the pain, and even then it wasn’t unbearable, just a sharp sting. JR increased the force until I winced.

“Too much?” he asked.

“I can take it.”

“Good girl,” He hit a little harder.

I watched his face as he whipped me. I suppose I was worried that he might turn into a maniac but he didn’t act any differently than before. He wore that same determined expression and his cock was just as hard.

JR paused and massaged my breasts and it felt wonderful!. The pain made them sensitive and I enjoyed the feel of his hands. My breasts got hot during the whipping, very hot, and his hands made them hotter.

I was started to purr when he kissed each nipple then picked up the whip.

He hit harder this time. My breasts were getting very tender, but they tingled at each blow. To my astonishment I liked it!

It showed in my face.

“Are you starting to enjoy this?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I am,” I answered in wonder.

He gathered my breasts together and lowered his body onto them. He crushed them against my ribs with his weight. His face was close to mine so he kissed me, another of his long slow magnificent kisses.

“I have many ways of torturing these beauties,” he said jiggling them.

“Such as?”

“Bigger whips, nipple clamps, a punishment bra, lots of ways.”

“A punishment bra? What is a punishment bra?”

“A leather brassiere lined with rubber spikes,” he said. “The cups have straps and laces that squeeze the slave’s breasts.”

“Spikes?” I gasped

“Dull spikes,” he explained. “They won’t puncture the skin but they can be very uncomfortable I’m told.”

“Do you have a punishment bra?” I asked.

“No, I’ll have to order one for you,” he caressed my breast. “A very large one.”

What the heck. I’d just discovered that I liked having my boobs whipped, maybe I’d like wearing a punishment bra too.

“Ok, why not?” I said. “I’ll wear a torture bra for you.”

“Punishment bra,” he corrected me. “A torture bra is something different.”

“I don’t think I want to know.”

He chuckled. “We’ll explore those and other things over the next few months.”

“Months?”

“Maybe years,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to let you get away.”

“Are you going to keep me tied up in this room for months?” Actually, the idea didn’t sound too bad.

“If only I could,” he said. “I meant that I plan to make you my lover for a long time.”

“I thought I was to be your slave girl.”

“Regardless of your title, I want to have you for a long time.”

“All right.”

“All right?” he asked. “Just like that? You barely know me.”

“I know you enough already,” I said. “I want to be your slave girl.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That’s very flattering, but for now, the day is almost over. I think its time to get down to business.”

He climbed off of me and untied my ankles. I was disappointed, thinking he was releasing me, but I giggled when he raised my leg in the air and tied it to the headboard, then he did the other leg. I’d thought I was wide open before, but that was nothing compared to this new position.

JR climbed on the bed and there were no preliminaries, he just shoved his cock inside me and that was that. It would have been insensitive of him except that I had an orgasm the second his cock was in me.

“Ooh,” I gasped. “And here I was beginning to think you weren’t romantic.”

He chuckled then settled down to screwing me.

JR can fuck a woman non stop for a very long time.

He just fucks, there’s no talk, no pauses or interruptions, just a long steady rhythm with his sweaty body on top of my sweaty body and his eyes looking into mine. I savored every second of our first time, I still savor every second after all these years.

When we came together I thought I was in heaven.

I woke up to hear the shower running. I was untied and covered with perspiration. I lay back and let my thoughts run wild. How did I feel? How should I feel? Guilty, satisfied, contented, sore, remorseful, wanting more, connected to a man and hoping he wanted more of me? The answer is: all of the above.

JR came out of the bathroom toweling his hair. He smiled at me and yanked me to my feet. He pulled me close and kissed me with another of those world class kisses.

“If you keep doing that you’ll need another shower,” I warned.

“Oh this is just a break,” he said. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

My mouth dropped open. I thought we were done, did he really want me to stay longer? Was he going to fuck me again?

He grinned at my confusion.

“I’m just kidding,” he said. “Unfortunately I know we both have to go.”

“Oh,” I was faintly disappointed. “What about . . ?”

“Next week, same time, same place,” he said. He began packing the ropes in the satchel.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My breasts were criss crossed with thin pink lines from the whip. For some perverse reason I was delighted. I touched my breasts lightly, running my fingers along the lines. They stung but the pain made my nipples and pussy tingle. Wow.

“Same thing?” I asked as I looked at myself. I’d have to be careful not to let my husband see my breasts until the lines went away.

“More of the same,” he shook the whip at me. “But better.”

“It better be better.” 

He snapped the whip across my bottom. It felt good and I squealed and ran into the bathroom.

       

                                       CH 2

When I got home I took a deep breath and walked in the house. My husband was glued to a ball game on television. He nodded and said hi, but didn’t look at me.

I dropped the basket of laundry and stared at him. ‘You fool!’ I wanted to shout. ‘Can’t you see that something has happened to me? Can’t you tell that I’m different since I left the house?’

My whip marks were under my clothing but the ropes had left deep grooves in my wrists and ankles. I shoved my sleeves up, picked up the basket and went to my bedroom.

I took my shirt off and puttered around the bedroom putting the clothes away. JR’s whip marks were quite visible above my bra and every time I looked at them my nipples got hard.

JR had destroyed my panties so I’d driven home wearing nothing under my jeans. I undressed intending to put on new panties and a fresh pair of jeans but decided ‘to hell with it.’ I slipped back into my jeans, took off my bra and put my shirt on.

We ate dinner as usual and no one noticed the change in me. No one seemed to see that my nipples were poking against my shirt. I didn’t expect the boys to, they were typical teenaged knuckleheads, oblivious to everything, and my husband barely spoke during the meal. Even Becky, my seventeen year old daughter who is very observant didn’t seem to sense anything. I wanted to open my shirt and show my marks. I wanted to tell them that I’d had at least six orgasms today.

Half way through dinner I felt JR’s cum sliding out of my pussy. My pants were soon sopping wet and that triggered one of the most erotic feelings I’d ever experienced in my life. Another man’s juices were inside me, mingling with mine. They had been put there by a cock, hard and powerful! It took a supreme effort of will power to sit quietly and not let on what was happening. After dinner I managed to get to my room without anyone noticing the wet spot between my legs.

I stripped naked and threw my clothes into the laundry hamper. I was trembling from guilt, nerves, and excitement. I was so agitated that I walked the floor naked for twenty minutes. Finally I forced myself to calm down, and wash up. That was when I noticed the whip marks. The thin pink lines had changed to dark purple welts and my breasts were mottled with reddish purple dots. The sight of them excited me! I was looking at myself in the mirror, turning this way and when my husband walked in. I quickly threw on my gown but he didn’t even look at me, he just brushed past into the bathroom. 

I buttoned my gown to my throat and went into the living room. Hubby returned to his recliner and never once made eye contact with me. I looked at him resentfully and after half an hour I unbuttoned my gown. One button at first, then all of them. He took no notice so I opened the collar as far as it would go and slipped it off my shoulder. The bruises on my breasts were visible to God and all his angels and my husband. God and the angels may have seen them, but my husband never even glanced at me.

Later that night while my husband snored beside me I lay awake and relived every moment with JR. I slid my night gown up and played with my pussy as I remembered the things that he had done to my body. I was surprised that my mind kept returning to the bondage, the memory of the ropes on my wrists was as strong as the memory of the sex. I rubbed the bruises on my breasts and grew so hot that I masturbated.

I sat up, opened my legs, and looked at my husband while I tickled my clitoris to an orgasm.

All week long I wrestled with guilt. I was in a terrible quandary. Should I allow myself this one indulgence, just one wicked fling then never stray again? Or should I let myself go and meet JR on Saturday?

Every night I lay awake remembering JR, and when I fell asleep I dreamt about bring tied up. I was surprised that my dreams dwelt more on bondage than romance.

By the end of the week I was sorry to see my bruises fade.  

Out of guilt I tried to seduce my husband, I tried several nights in a row. He didn’t reject me, he just didn’t notice what I was doing. No matter what I did he remained oblivious, so I gave up and decided that I would see JR again.

When I walked in the motel room JR grabbed me and kissed me until I was dizzy, then his hand was in my crotch lifting me off my feet. All my weight was in the palm of his hand and all of my passion was his to use as he saw fit. When he lowered me I sank to my knees and nuzzled the front of his trousers. I wondered if he would allow me to suck his cock but he grasped my wrists and pulled my arms up behind me. My head was forced down and he clamped my neck between his legs while he tied my wrists. I felt a delicious thrill as soon as he tightened the rope. He smacked my bottom with his hand. It stung but I liked it and wiggled my butt. JR spanked me a few more times then stepped away. I didn’t move, I didn’t look up, I held the pose. JR was pleased.

“Very nice,” he said.

“Thank you Master,” I said.

“Master?” he laughed.

“Isn’t that what a well behaved slave girl should call you?” I asked.

“Not necessarily,” he chuckled. “We aren’t into game playing here.”

“I sort of like calling you Master,” I said.

“You can call me that if you like, but I don’t require it.”

“I think I will,” I said.

“Ok, suit yourself,” he shrugged. “Would you like me to call you ‘slave girl’?”

“No, I’d rather you call me Mrs. Lee.”

“What ever for?”

“I want to be reminded of my husband while I’m in your ropes.”

“Uh oh, sounds like there’s a bit of resentment toward your husband,” he said. 

“There’s a lot of resentment,” I said. “If he wasn’t a fool then he would be the one tying me up, not you.”

“Wow, the poor chump.”

“Precisely,” I said. “And that’s enough about him. May I please suck your cock, Master?”

He looked down at me in mild surprise, then grinned and unzipped his fly. I watched as he withdrew his cock and edged forward on my knees. I opened my mouth and took him between my lips.

I was already excited, but being on my knees with my wrists tied made it better.

JR stood while I kissed and licked and sucked his cock. I wanted to make him cum and hoped he would spurt in my face but he stepped back.

“Don’t be in such a rush,” he said, breathing hard. “We have all afternoon.”

“Yes Master.”

He stood me up and undid my pants. I was trembling when he got to my panties. I wiggled my hips and stepped out of my shoes and jeans. He started to slide my panties down.

“Wait, don’t do that,” I said.

“Why not?”

“You’re not supposed to just take my panties off,” I told him. “You are supposed to tear them off.”

“Oh, of course,” he laughed. “Like this?” One yank and they were in shreds.

“Thank you Master.”

“You are welcome, Mrs. Lee. Now lie on the bed.”

He tossed several coils of rope beside me and started by tying my ankles together. I was disappointed. The last thing I wanted was my legs closed. Oh well . . .

JR used a long rope and wrapped it carefully around my ankles. He placed every coil neatly against the other. He was meticulous and took his time. I wondered why he was taking so long.

“Is there some reason you are using so much rope?” I asked.

“I enjoy doing this,” he answered.

“I thought the idea was to tie me up and have sex,” I said.

“Part of the fun is tying you up,” he said. “And don’t worry about the sex, you’re going to get plenty.”

“Anytime soon?”

“Oh ho, it seems I have a insolent slave girl,” he said.

“Just an impatient one.”

He took a gag from his satchel and showed it to me. It was a red rubber ball on a leather strap.

“Ok, ok, I’ll keep quiet,” I said.

He resumed tying my legs. After my ankles were secure he tied another rope around my thighs above my knees. Again he took pains to make each wrapping neat and even.

“Lets get the rest of your clothes off,” he said. “Roll over.”

I lay face down while he untied my wrists. Then he took off my shirt and bra. He pulled my arms back and retied them and again went through that maddeningly slow process of wrapping a long rope up my wrists and past my elbows. It felt like my arms were encased in a blanket.

He undressed and straddled my thighs and I felt his cock pressing between my legs. I liked the feel  and wiggled my bottom. He chuckled, leaned into me and pushed his cock a bit deeper until it pressed against my rectum. I’d never been screwed in my butt before, but I was willing to let him if that’s what he wanted. I didn’t speak but wriggled some more hoping he’d get the idea, but he was intent on tying my arms. When he got the rope all the way up to my elbows he tied another one around my upper arms. I didn’t see the point of that one since my arms were already secure, but JR just likes playing with ropes. 

I lay patiently and  wiggled my bottom from time to time. Finally, when  JR was satisfied that I wasn’t going to throw off my bonds and escape he lay atop my back and fucked me (in a fashion). He slid his cock between my legs so that it rubbed against my pussy and thrust up and down. It didn’t go inside me, not in my pussy or anywhere else, but it felt wonderful.

JR got excited fucking me like that but he has great self control and forced himself to stop.

He rolled me over then tied up my breasts.

Now I didn’t know that you could tie up a woman’s breasts, or for that matter, why anyone would want to, but JR did. He wrapped a thin cord around my left breast, starting where it met my chest. He wrapped it just as carefully and methodically as the other ropes. I was amazed at how the cord made my breast stand up. It provided support but it elongated my breast until it resembled a huge sausage, and it felt really weird too. He did the other breast the same way. 

I thought I was tied pretty securely but he must have thought I was an escape risk, because he tied more ropes on me.

He wrapped a rope around my chest above my breasts and upper arms and tied it tightly, then did it again below my breasts. Another long rope went around my waist several times like a belt. He sat back and examined his handiwork.

“Are we about finished?” I asked.

“No, why?” he asked. “Are you getting bored?”

“Nope, but I was wondering how many more ropes you can get on me.”

“Oh lots if I wanted,” he said. “But for today I’ll just add one more.”

He held up a short slender cord. “This is your pussy rope.”

I had never heard of a pussy rope, but I knew instantly what it meant. I gasped in astonishment.

“Are you actually going to tie my pussy?” I laughed.

“Yep. I don’t want it to escape.”

“Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Don’t count on it.”

He rolled me onto my side and I felt him fiddling around at the back of my waist. He was tying one end of the pussy rope to the rope that circled my waist, then he forced his hand between my legs. I tried to look down but my tubular breasts blocked my view. I felt him slide the cord over my waist rope, then gently tug on it. The cord tightened and I giggled when I felt it press against my crotch. JR tugged steadily until that wonderful, wicked little rope found its way between the lips of my pussy. He pulled until it was very snug and I was inches from cumming. He tied it to the front of my waist rope then twanged it to see how taut it was. That wonderful, wicked, tight, little rope.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Leave it there,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you in a few days.”

I lay back, closed my eyes and concentrated on that wonderful, wicked, little rope in my pussy. That little rope which connected me to the center of the universe. I would have been content to just lay there for about a week.

JR bent close. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” I crooned.

“Great, I think I’ll give you some time to yourself,” he said. “I’ll be back in a while.” He put on his clothes.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I think I’ll go get a beer,” he said. “And I have a few errands to run. I might not be back until tomorrow morning.”

“Ok,” I sighed contentedly.

“Before I go. . .”  he produced a blindfold. I raised my head so he could slip it on.

“Would you like to wear the gag?” he asked.

“What ever you think, Master.”

“Ok, open up.”

I opened my mouth and felt him insert the rubber ball. It tasted funny and my mouth felt stretched, but it was bearable and I was content. A moment later I heard the door close.

I lay on that bed completely immobilized and in delight. I felt sexy, excited, secure and content. I shifted my weight slightly and felt the rope move in my pussy. That sweet, wonderful, wicked little rope.

I simply enjoyed existing.

I didn’t think that JR would leave me over night but it was ok with me if he did. I chuckled to myself when I imagined the look on my husband’s face the next day when I told him why I hadn’t come home: “Sorry dear, but I was tied up.”

JR didn’t keep me all night, in fact he was only gone about an hour. When he came back he removed my blindfold but left the gag in.

“Doing ok?” he asked.

I nodded deeply.

“Good, now I’m going to make things a little uncomfortable for you. I want to torment you  a little.”

Fine with me.

He rolled me onto my stomach and tied a short rope to my ankles. “Bend your knees,” he said.

I obeyed and he threaded the rope through a ring on the back of my gag strap. He placed his hand on my forehead and pulled my head back. That was unpleasant. I rolled my eyes at him.

“A little more,” he said, and bent my neck further. I growled under the gag.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Its uncomfortable. But I want you to try to endure it for a while.”

“Huh uh,” I managed to express my displeasure through my gag.

“Remember that bit about you calling me Master?” he asked. “Well the master gets to decide how much punishment the slave girl has to endure.”

“Huh Uh!” I expressed emphatic displeasure. He ignored me and tied the rope.

Now I thought the purpose of a gag was to keep me from screaming for help, but actually it was part of my bondage ensemble, it was also a way to put my mouth in bondage!

‘Ok, just relax,’ I thought to myself. ‘I’ve agreed to let him torture me, so lets just see how much I can take.’

JR lay beside me and looked me over. He ran his hands over my body and tugged on the rope in my crotch. I liked that but my neck was starting to hurt and I wanted to be released. I huffed and growled into my gag and tried to wiggle around but he just chuckled. My flopping around attracted his attention to my boobs and he decided to play with them. It must have been the ropes tied around them but my breasts were more sensitive than usual. They felt warm and tingly and the feeling increased when JR squeezed them. I stopped struggling and tried to enjoy

JR is a patient man. He can play with my body for hours. I don’t know how long he teased me that afternoon, but I was a quivering mass of superheated female flesh when he stopped. Besides his patience JR possess a wicked streak. Just when I thought he was going to take a break he grasped my pussy rope and yanked on it.

I wasn’t expecting it, and when that rope tightened against my clitoris the sensation sent me right through the roof! I had a lightning strike orgasm that almost made me faint.

I’d just managed to start breathing again when he yanked the rope once more. This time I screamed in my gag. He kept yanking on the rope and I whined and whimpered and made pleading puppy sounds to get him to stop. Finally he stood on the bed and lifted me up by my pussy rope!. All my weight was supported by that thin little cord through my pussy. (That wonderful, wicked, naughty, little rope.)

JR finally took pity on me and dropped me. I landed on my breasts and they twisted under me which hurt a little and tingled a lot. JR released the rope between my gag and my ankles but left the rest of my ropes on, then chuckling, he walked away and made a pot of coffee.

I lay on that bed feeling about a hundred different emotions. I was in a delicious haze of contentment, my pussy throbbed, my pussy hurt, I was angry, how dare he treat me like a lump of sex? I was happy, I loved being treated like a lump of sex, my pussy tingled and my soul was glowing with a pink mist of warmth and love. (Did I mention that my pussy tingled?)

JR let me lie there for a long time while he drank coffee and read a book. I closed my eyes and  felt  my pulse throbbing through my pussy.

Eventually JR removed my gag. My mouth was dry and my jaws ached, but I forgot all that when he kissed me, another of his long, deliberate passionate kisses. I was begging him to fuck me as soon as his lips left mine.

He untied my legs but left the ropes on my arms and body. He piled pillows in the center of the bed and lifted me until my bottom rested on them, then he tied my ankles apart. I was so excited that I could barely stand it. And would he fuck me? No!

Not yet anyway. He decided he had to torment me more by teasing my pussy. He played with it, slipped his fingers inside, pinched and tickled and kissed it, but when I got close to cumming he stopped.

Bastard, bastard, bastard!

He just grinned.

Finally he got ready. He positioned himself between my legs and pressed his cock against my pussy.

“Master wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t forget the whip,” I said.

“I might not whip you every time,” he said.

“Oh, I was hoping you would.”

“Do you like the whip already?” he asked. “You’ve only been whipped once.”

“I do like it,” I said. “But I want you to whip me because my marks have faded.”

“Oh?”

“I like having bruises from your whip,” I told him.

“Why on earth do you want to wear bruises on your body?”

“It proves I’m your slave,” I said.

“Aren’t you going a bit overboard about this slave girl stuff?”

“Maybe, but I like having marks under my clothing, its like wearing your brand.”

“How about if I just brand you then?”

My tummy went cold with fear. Brand me? Was he serious?

My God, that would hurt! And a brand would be permanent, my husband would see it sooner or later.

The fear lasted for about two seconds, then I thought: ‘I could take the pain, I could endure any pain for JR, and it would serve my husband right to see that I wore another man’s brand.’ I imagined the look on his face when he saw it.

“Where would you brand me?”

“Right here.” He touched a spot an inch above my pussy.

“What would the brand look like?”

“My initials, about an inch high.”

I considered it. If I shaved my pubic hair then let it grow back after I was branded my husband would never know it was there. It would be my secret. I got hot thinking about it.

I gazed up at JR. “I think I’d love to be branded, but for now I’ll settle for bruises.”

“All right.”

He took a couple of whips from his bag and showed them to me.

“Don’t you have anything bigger?” I asked.

“Not with me.”

“Could you bring bigger ones next time?’

“Sure.”

He used the largest whip on me. I expected him to whip my breasts, but he started whipping the inside of my thighs. Now that’s a pretty sensitive area for a woman and I was soon yelping in pain.

“Want me to stop?” he asked.

“God no,” I gasped. “But why don’t you put the gag back in my mouth.”

This time the gag felt comfortable.

“Well, since you are becoming a pain slut I think I’ll whip you hard,” JR told me. “And with that gag you can scream all you want.”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

JR resumed whipping the inside of my thighs. I was soon squirming in pain, and tiny gasps behind the gag grew to groans and screeches and ultimately screams. Just when I thought I couldn’t endure any more pain the whip hit my pussy!

I never dreamt that a man would whip a woman in that spot. I was shocked. My eyes flew open and I was too surprised to scream. JR looked into my eyes, winked at me, and hit my pussy again. I fainted.

I had a last thought as everything went black, I realized that I was having an orgasm.

When I woke up JR was fucking me. He was plunging in and out of my body and his hands had a cruel grip on my breasts. I looked up at him and it all went black again.

I awoke again and was alone in bed. I was still bound and gagged and could hear the shower running. I really wanted to get up but that was impossible so I lay back and waited patiently.

JR walked in a few minutes later. He was naked, he took one look at me and  his cock rose. He didn’t say a word, he just climbed between my legs and fucked me again. This time I didn’t pass out so I was able to enjoy everything. I enjoyed a nice long orgasm too.

JR left me bound and gagged while he took another shower. (Did I mention that one of the requirements of being a sex slave is patience?) I hoped there would be some hot water left if he ever got around to untying me.

Finally he released me. I climbed shakily to my feet and staggered into the bathroom. I didn’t have the strength to stand and decided on a long soak in the tub. While the tub filled I went back into the bedroom. JR was dressed.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’m having dinner with my son and his family tonight.”

“Same time next week?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

I looked at myself in the mirror, my belly and crotch were bright pink from his whip.

“Well slave lady, will those bruises be satisfactory?” he asked.

“Sure will,” I replied. “But you forgot to whip my breasts.”

“Did I?” he looked closely. “So I did. Shall I correct that?”

“Please.”

He dug out his whip. I clasped my hands behind my neck and stuck out my breasts. He smiled, then slashed the whip across my boobs very hard. Wow, did that hurt!

JR hit me another blow, then another. “Ready for some more?” he asked.

“At least a dozen,” I gasped.

He hit again. By the end of the dozen I was sobbing in pain and passion. My breasts hurt and I loved it.

JR put away the whip, then caressed my breasts.

“Will that suffice, Mrs. Lee?” he asked.

“Yes Master, thank you,” I said, holding his hands to my boobs. “Are you sure you want to go to that dinner? Why not stay here and torture me for a few more hours.”

He shook his head slowly. “I am tempted,” he said.

I stepped close and pressed myself against his body. “You could tie me tighter this time, really tight,” I whispered seductively. “Then go get your big whip. I promise I’ll wait for you.”

He dragged me close and kissed me. His hand sought out my nipple and pinched it while he held the kiss.

“Someday I’ll make you have an orgasm just from hurting your nipple,” he told me.

“That day may be closer than you think,” I said. “I’m starting to enjoy the pain.”

He hugged me and started for the door.

“By the way,” I asked. “How many women have you branded?”

“None,” he replied. “Why?”

“I’ll have to think about it long and hard,” I said. “And I’m not making any promises, but I believe I like the idea.”

His face lit up and he took a step toward me, then he stopped.

“If I don’t leave this second I’ll never get out of here.” He almost ran out the door. I giggled and went into the bath.

The only bad thing about being whipped between your legs is that they can get pretty stiff afterwards. I was sore by the time I got home and  had to be careful not to let on. The bruises on my breasts and pussy lasted longer than the first batch and I got a warm tingle every time I looked at them.

CH3

My affair with JR brought me out of my shell. Oddly enough, becoming a slave increased my self confidence, (or perhaps it was the attention JR gave me, and being a slave gave the freedom to enjoy it), anyway I bought nicer clothes and started wearing skirts again. Men at work began to flirt with me and even my husband noticed the change and asked what was going on. I told him my boss had suggested that I might stand a chance of getting promoted if I dressed more professionally. He didn’t question that and said that we could use the extra money.

I was surprised at how easy cheating came to me and I was ashamed at how quickly I became a masochist. It was disturbing to discover that I liked pain. I felt that I was perverse and decadent, but the pleasure eventually overcame my qualms and I came to accept being a masochist, especially since submission brings with it freedom from guilt and multiple orgasms.

I had to ask JR to stop tearing my panties off every time we met. Although it was very erotic it was getting expensive. I was running out of underwear. On his own the dear sweet man bought me a lovely set of very sexy panties. I took them home and wore only them, and one day as I was putting things away in my drawer I realized that I hadn’t worn any of my old panties in a long time. I began wearing them to our sessions and asked JR to rip them off again. We did this until I had used up all my old ones. JR bought me several new pair and some thongs, which I’d never worn before. He gave me a pair of red panties embroidered with “Sex Slave” but told me that he understood if I didn’t want to take them home, in case my husband saw them. I told him to hell with my husband and to buy me all the slave girl panties he wanted. JR enjoys shopping for my underwear and eventually every pair of panties that I owned had been given to me by him. In fact, I haven’t bought my own panties since that day.

I fell in love with JR and reveled in being his slave. I wanted to be owned by him physically and emotionally and wearing stripes from his whip made me feel that I was his property. I had so much pride from wearing his marks that I made sure that I came away from every meeting with fresh ones.

To accommodate my desire to wear stripes JR made a special whip. It was a single strand of leather eighteen inches long and very supple. JR could snap it between my legs with perfect accuracy and leave a red stripe beside the lips of my pussy.

JR and I developed a routine at the end of each session. First I would bend over and stick out my bottom and JR would put four or five stripes across it, then I would kneel, lock my hands behind my neck, arch my back and present my boobs. He would give them six red lines, three above the nipples and three below, and for good measure he’d snap the tip of the whip right squarely on each nipple. For the finale I would lie down, keep my hands behind my head and spread my legs. JR would stand over me and give me two fierce strokes on each side of my pussy, making sure the stripes didn’t cross my pussy lips, then  I would clench my teeth, hold my breath and raise my pelvis and he would give one final excruciatingly sexy stroke right into my pussy.

Once, my husband walked in and caught me naked from the waist up. He asked why I had red marks on my breasts. I told him that they were getting bigger and my brassieres were too small. The idiot believed me. Even so, I turned to him and silently offered myself. If only he had touched me I would have dragged him to the bed and given him the screwing of his life. I would have even suggested that he tie me to the bed. I waited for a few seconds but he only made a stupid comment about the expense of buying new bras.

I became obsessed with wearing whip marks but they fade, and my mind kept going back to the idea of being branded. At night I often dreamt about being tied down and having a red hot brand pressed against my flesh. I’d wake up in a sweat with my hand in my pussy. During the day I thought about it and although the thought of the pain was very exciting, the idea of walking around with a brand on my body for the rest of my life made me so hot that I could almost come to an orgasm just thinking about it.

One afternoon as we were getting dressed, JR tied a pussy rope on me and told me to wear it home. He meant it as a joke but I did precisely as he said.

Driving home with that rope between my legs was very exciting. I wriggled in my seat and every movement sent a little tingle through my pussy. I unzipped my jeans and pulled on the rope as I drove. I almost brought myself to an orgasm driving down the street. When I got to my house I drove around the block a couple of times until my breath and color were back to normal. Driving had been a delight but walking around the house in front of my family was incredible! Every step was a physical thrill as well as a reminder that I belonged to JR. I wanted to tell them about it, to make them understand that I was more than just a dull old ordinary wife and mother. ‘Guess what everybody? Believe it or not, there is a man who sees me as sexy and desirable!’

That pussy rope made me feel like I was worth something!

We barbecued that night. My husband offered to do the cooking so I made myself a drink and relaxed on the patio. I lay back on a chaise lounge and casually slipped my fingers into the back of my pants. I tugged the rope tight in my pussy and I wondered if I could make myself have an orgasm without anyone knowing.  

I wore my pussy rope for several days, even to bed.

I finally took it off but on Saturday morning I tied a fresh rope between my legs and wore it around the house until it was time to meet JR. Between that rope and anticipating the afternoon’s pleasures, I was a quivering mass of hot female flesh. I wanted to wear a skirt to the motel but my family would have noticed, so I wore jeans and took a skirt with me. On the way I stopped in a parking lot, slipped my pants off and put the skirt on. I wasn’t wearing any panties. When I met JR I lifted my skirt and showed my pussy rope. He shouted with laughter when I told him I’d worn it all week. He grinned, hugged me so tight that I couldn’t breathe, then gave me one of his time stopping kisses. then he grasped my pussy rope and walked me around the room for a few minutes.

He spent that afternoon exploring different ways to drive me wild using a pussy rope, and this I time I didn’t get to lie quietly in bondage, he made me exercise.

He had me lie face down on the bed and tied my arms in a new fashion. He sat on my legs and made me cross my arms at the small of my back. I cupped each elbow in the opposite palm, then he wrapped rope from one elbow to the other. He tied my ankles together but left a short bit of rope between them. He called this a hobble and it permitted me to walk in tiny little steps. He sat me up and tied a leash to the front of my pussy rope, then he stood in front of me and tugged on the leash. 

He didn’t say anything but kept tugging that leash harder and harder until I realized that he wanted me to stand up. I struggled to my feet and almost toppled over. Wearing a hobble made it difficult to stand, walking was almost impossible. I tottered for a moment until I got my balance.

JR pulled my leash and led me around the room.

At first I tried walking but that was too slow to suit JR. He tugged harder and I had to hop to keep up. The room isn’t very big so I could only hop about twenty steps then turn and hop back. He made me hop back and forth until I was panting with exertion. In ten minutes I was begging for a break. All that got me was a big gag in my mouth. It was harder to breathe wearing the gag and I made little whimpers to beg for mercy. JR told me to stop whining or the next time he’d make me hop wearing high heels. I shut up quick.

I was passing the dresser when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I stopped in my tracks. My hair was tousled, my face was pink, my body was covered with sweat and I was huffing like a steam engine. Even standing still my boobs were bouncing like a pair of basketballs. The ropes cut into my skin and my pussy rope disappeared between my legs. I looked like a total tramp, and I loved it!

JR permitted me to stare at myself for a moment, then yanked on the rope and got me moving again. I obeyed but watched myself each time I passed the mirror.

JR finally allowed me a break. I collapsed in the chair and he removed my gag.

“Need a drink?” he asked. I nodded and he brought me a glass of water.

“You must enjoy looking at yourself,” he commented.

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “I hate my body. I avoid looking at myself when I can.”

“Well, you sure were staring at the mirror,” he pointed out.

“I was watching the way my breasts bounce,” I said. “I’ve never seen them do that.”

“They look fantastic,” he said, jiggling one.

“They’re too big and floppy,” I said. “But if you like them . .”

“I do,” he said simply.

“Then I’ll bounce them all I can,” I said. “But I’m liable to collapse into a heap. I’m not in shape for this.”

“Don’t worry, if you collapse I’ll pick you up and toss you on the bed.”

“Gee, thanks Master.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Lee.” He regarded me for a moment. “You really like looking at your bouncing breasts?”

“Yes Master. Do you?”

“Of course.”

“I wish this room had more mirrors,” I said.

“Oh, all right,” he groaned in mock irritation. He hopped me to the bed and pushed against my breasts gently until I fell backwards. He curled my legs up in a tight hog tie, put my gag in my mouth and blindfolded me, then he got dressed and left without a word!

I wondering where he had gone. I lay helpless but delighting in the rope through my legs. Just squirming a little made for a sweet tingle in my pussy. I tried to bring myself to a gentle orgasm and was getting close when I heard the door open.

I heard JR moving around the room. He removed my blindfold and I saw two full length mirrors leaning against the walls of the room. They were at the ends of my hopping space. He’d gotten them at a second hand store a block away. He got me back on my feet and ordered me to hop again. Now I could watch my boobs in both directions, what a sweetie!

Hopping was very strenuous and at times I tried to rest by shuffling my feet. Its difficult to move very fast that way, but the different motion made my breasts sway from side to side instead of up and down. JR didn’t care which way they moved, just as long as I kept them moving.

I paraded up and down the room until I got leg cramps. JR caught me in his arms and gently lowered me onto the bed. He didn’t untie me, but did massage my legs until they felt better. That was the end of my hopping for the day, but not the end of my bondage.

JR tied my legs apart then experimented with different ways to yank, tug, and jerk on my pussy rope. He kept at it until I had several orgasms, then he removed the rope from my pussy and screwed me half silly.

I was of mixed mind about that particular day. I had gotten used to lying passively in bondage, and being tortured and screwed required no effort on my part, but hopping around was exhausting. Other than making my breasts bounce hopping wasn’t much fun.

To my chagrin when I stepped on the scales the next morning I discovered that I’d lost two pounds. Oh it was nice to lose weight, but I wasn’t too sure I liked the method. Still, losing two pounds was great, no matter how I did it. (If it sounds like being a sex slave can be confusing, it is.)

When I told JR I’d lost weight he commented that maybe we had stumbled on a new weight loss method for women.

“Oh sure,” I said. “You could market a new program. I can just see you in a roomful of fat naked women, tying them up and making them hop around in a big circle.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said straight faced.

If I hadn’t been tied up at the time I would have socked him.

Want to know how badly I had fallen for the man? I began working out so I’d be in shape to hop for him! When no one was home I would undress, put on a pussy rope, tie my ankles and practice hopping.  I’d also slip my hands through a loop of rope behind my back and twist it tight. Sometimes I cheated and wore a sports bra, and once I tried wearing high heels, but that turned out to be too dangerous. I didn’t want to break an ankle. Usually I’d hop in front of a mirror so I could watch my boobs, but sometimes I’d hop all around the house.

Its amazing what a woman will do when she’s in love.

A few months into our relationship JR gave me a present of a golden pussy chain.

Its a belt of gold mesh two inches wide and very thin. There is a crotch chain of flat oblong links. The chain hooks to the front and back of the belt and passes between my pussy lips. It can be secured in place with two tiny padlocks. The three links that press against my pussy have little knobs for added enjoyment. The entire ensemble is strong enough to withstand a lot of stress but its delicate and feminine and so unobtrusive that I can wear it under my clothing.

JR tied my hands above my head to the wall hook and played with my pussy for a while, then brought out the belt in a gift box. He opened it and showed the belt to me, then buckled it around my waist. I liked the feel of the belt but when he slipped the chain into my pussy I nearly went wild. Once it was in place he ordered me to gyrate the way I had on our first day, and the links sliding across my clitoris drove me to a terrific orgasm. He allowed me to recover, then made me hop around the room. Between my breasts bouncing and the chain riding through my pussy I had a couple of more orgasms before I collapsed on the floor. JR put me on the bed, undid the chain and screwed me half silly.

I wore my pussy chain home and kept it on all evening. Every movement through my pussy was a delight. My husband commented that I seemed to be in a good mood that evening.

I didn’t sleep in my chain, not that first night, but I wore it on a visit to my mother the next day and we went shopping. It was a thrill walking around with the chain between my legs, I was so excited that I nearly had an orgasm. My mind was on JR and his wonderful gift and I had trouble concentrating on anything else. Mom finally demanded to know where my mind was and why she had to say everything twice. 

During our shopping expedition I saw some tiny golden bells in a jewelry shop. I went back a few days later and bought two of them. I hooked one to the front of my pussy chain and hung the other on a necklace.

When I wear panties they muffle the bell, but if I go without them it makes a delightful tinkling under my skirt. I get a kick out of being in a crowd and watching people look around wondering where the sound is coming from. (One time I was trotting down a flight of stairs in a public building and a gentleman heard my little bell. He seemed to know where it was because he looked right at my skirt, then at my face. I gave him my most dazzling smile and went on my way). 

Sometimes I lock the chain in place and tie the key to it with a ribbon and sometimes I hang the key on a necklace and wear it like a pendant, but if I’m feeling naughty and daring I leave the key at home.

Through trial and error I discovered that I had to wear the crotch chain fairly loose or I ran the risk of cumming in public.

I keep my pussy chain and belt with my other jewelry and I have to be careful to disconnect the chain from the belt. (I’d hate to have to explain to my daughter what they are really for). She saw the belt and asked about it so I told her it was from my teenaged years and I’d found it in an old box. Its too snug for me to wear over clothing but she borrowed it and wore it over her sweaters. She thought the pussy chain was an ordinary necklace and borrowed it too. I couldn’t very well say no, but it was very disconcerting to see my daughter go out wearing my pussy chain around her neck.

I wear the chain when I’m hopping for exercise and the tinkling bell gave me an idea. I worked up a lot of nerve, went to a sex shop and bought some nipple clamps.

I was embarrassed to enter the store but the sales clerk was waiting on another customer so I had a moment to collect myself, and I wandered around looking at things. I was intrigued at the amount of leather clothing. Some of the outfits were quite sexy and I particularly liked some of the corsets. I looked for a punishment bra but didn’t see anything like JR had described. Eventually I found a display of fetish jewelry and came to a shelf full of nipple clamps. I was amazed at the variety, some were small, little more than rubber bands, while others were terrifying things with large sharp alligator teeth. I couldn’t imaging having something like that on my nipple (except that my nipples got hard while I was looking at the clamps).

The sales clerk came over and asked if she could help.

“I’d like to look at some clamps,” I told her. “But I’m not sure what kind to get.”

She was very matter of fact and put me at ease. “How tight do you want them to be?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never worn them before.”

“Ok, in that case why don’t you go in the dressing room and try a few.” She took the tray out of the cabinet and showed me to a tiny cubicle. She stood in the door as I unbuttoned my blouse. She noticed my pink face.

“I can leave if you prefer privacy,” she said.

“No, its all right,” I said. “I just find the situation a little embarrassing.”

“Don’t be silly, its just us girls here.” 

I nodded and took off my bra.

“Are you a serious masochist?” she asked. “Do you like a lot of pain?”

I shrugged  “I don’t know how you measure it.”

She handed me a pair of clamps.

“These are fairly mild,” she said. “We’ll start off low and work our way up until we find some that are right.”

I blushed and wondered how I’d gotten myself into this situation. I accepted the clamps and gingerly placed one on a nipple. It felt firm but not painful. I put the other one on.

She watched my face for a moment, then shook her head. “Not enough, I can tell.”

“You’re right.” I took them off and she gave me another pair.

I tried many types of clamps. Some had springs, others could be tightened with screws and some had a sort of mechanical pivot that got tighter the harder they were pulled. I tested one of the big ones on my finger. It hurt so much that I quickly took it off.

“Do people actually wear such things?” I gasped.

The clerk nodded. “I have a few customers who can’t get enough pain. These are too mild for them. One woman loves to have her tits tortured so much that her husband uses clamps from battery cables on them.”

“My God!”

I thought about that for a moment. “Does he turn on electricity too?”

“Oh, yes. She loves it. Actually lots of girls like having their boobs electrocuted.”

My nipples were hard as rocks. The clerk noticed and smiled.

“We have some electrical torture units,” she said. “Would you like to try it?”

I was tempted! The idea of electricity shooting through my nipples was very exciting, but I didn’t want that woman to do it. I shook my head.

“Perhaps some other time,” I said. “For now I just want to look at clamps.”

I tried some of the smaller versions of the alligator clamps and liked the intense feel. I looked in the mirror and shook my breasts.

“I’m going to wear them when I hop for my master,” I explained, blushing again. “So I need them to stay on while I’m bouncing around.”

“He makes you hop?” she asked casually.

“Yes.”

“Are you a pony girl?”

“No, we aren’t in to that,” I said. (Actually I had only the vaguest idea what a pony girl was).

“Are you in restraints when you hop?”

“Yes, my arms are bound and I wear a hobble.”

She nodded understandingly. She astonished me by touching my nipple. She rolled it between her fingers rather clinically. My face went bright red.

“You have nice big nipples,” she observed. “They should hold the clamps nicely but you don’t want them to be too heavy.”

“Why not?”

“Heavy clamps tend to fall off if you move a lot, especially if you attach weights to them.”

“I’m planning to hang bells on them.”

“Bells shouldn’t be too heavy,” she mused. She held up the mechanical clamps. “These will stay on no matter what you do and they’ll support weights too, if you decide to add them later.”

She reached for my breast then paused. “Shall I put them on you, or would you rather do it?”

“I’d better do it,” I said very flustered.

I put the clamps on and tightened the screws. They felt firm and sexy.

“See if you can shake them off,” the clerk suggested.

I shook my breasts a few times, the clamps held.

“Try harder,” she said. I was astonished to find myself obeying. I shook my body side to side. She watched with obvious interest and it dawned on me that she was a lesbian. She reached out and gently flicked a clamp to see if it would come off. It held so she tapped it harder. I liked the sensation but was embarrassed at being touched by a woman. Trying hard not to blush I took the clamps off and handed them to her.

“I’ll take them,” I tried to act normally as I slipped into my bra. “And the small alligator clips.”

“Any thing else?” she asked.

“But do you carry punishment bras?” I asked.

“We have a few, but I don’t think we have anything in stock that will fit you. Take your bra off again and I’ll get them.”

She came back with a weird looking black rubber brassiere. She held it against my breasts.

“I think this is too small,” she said.

I took the bra and looked it over. It was very complicated with straps and buckles and laces all over the cups. The cups were lined with dozens of hard little knobs. But it was too small and I could never have squeezed into it.

“You’ll need a much bigger one,” the clerk said. “They have to be over sized just to get them on. After that they can be tightened to compress your breasts and create the pain, or pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” I asked doubtfully.

“One lady’s pain is another woman’s pleasure,” she said. “The bras are popular with pony girls.”

Despite myself, my nipples perked up. She looked with unabashed interest. “We might have to order one specially for you.”

“How much do they cost?” I asked.

She named a figure. I could afford to order one but decided that right then wasn’t the time.

“What about torture bras?” I asked. “I understand that they are more painful.”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ll get one.”

I held the bra against my breast and rubbed the knobs against my skin while I waited. They did feel sexy. I jerked the bra away when the clerk returned. She showed me the torture bra. It was terrifying. Instead of knobs it was lined with sharp little spikes.

“This one is large enough to fit you I think,” she said. “If you want to try it on.”

I took it from her and examined it.

“The first torture bras were simply leather bras lined with thumb tacks,” the clerk told me. “And realistically, they are easy to make at home. The modern ones have a few added features.”

“Like what?” I asked.”

“Some are lined with wires and can be connected to electrical units. They can be set to send a jolt of electricity through the entire breast or send ripples of current from the nipples inwards or vice versa. The can be set with timers to go off in any sequence or at random. Some slave girls have been tied up and hot wired into orgasms for hours. Electrical connections can be made to your pussy too.”

My pussy was getting damp.

“What else?”

“Some bras have needles that can be inserted directly into the nipples,” the woman said. “I have a customer with big boobs like yours and she likes to wear two inch needles straight into her nipples.”

“Oh my God!”

“That’s not all,” she said. “Her mistress ordered torture panties for her.”

“Torture panties?” I gasped. “You mean panties with spikes?”

“Precisely. Spikes lining the crotch of the panties. Her mistress stretches her on a cross then beats her bra and panties with whips and riding crops.”

“Oh my God!”

“She is quite a hit at bondage parties.”

I must have stood with my mouth agape for five minutes. The image of a woman wearing spikes in her pussy was terrifying.

“You still with me?” the clerk asked after a while.

I took  a deep breath. “Sorry. I was in shock. You were saying about the bras?”

“Other bras have open nipples with built in clamps that can be tightened down very cruelly.”

I looked at the spikes lining the cup.

“How do you get into one of these without tearing your skin to pieces?” I asked.

“Good question,” she said. “Most ladies don’t want their breasts to be permanently scarred. Here’s how you put the bras on.”

She peeled the cups inside out. “You put the bra on by slowly rolling the cup closed. That way the spikes don’t tear your skin. Once its in place you tighten the straps and your are done. Want to try it?”

Yes, I did, but I was too much a coward.

“Let me give it some thought,” I said handing it back. I put my bra back on.

“Do you have any bells?” I asked when I was dressed.

“No, we don’t carry bells,” she said. “But I like your idea, I’ll have to try that on a couple of my girls.”

“Uh, your girls?” I asked.

“Uh huh. I have one or two clients that would look nice with bells on their nipples.”

“Oh, you’re a dominatrix?” I asked, feeling idiotic.

“Sure am.”

She put the tray of clamps back on the shelf. “There’s a toy store a few blocks away that might carry bells.  If they don’t have what you want, try a hobby shop.”

“Ok, thanks.”

She stared at my breasts for a moment, frowning in concentration. “You know, I think the best way to wear bells would be to have your nipples pierced and rings inserted, that way you could attach bells to the rings.”

“Uh, I’m afraid that piercing my nipples is out of the question,” I said. “Besides, I like the pain from the clamps.”

“You could have both,” she said. “But I know what you mean, I like wearing clamps too.”

“Oh? I didn’t think a dominatrix would enjoy pain,” I said.

“Depends on my mood,” she said. “About once a year I get to feeling submissive so I go to another dom and let her beat the daylights out of me. Its a nice change of pace.”

“I see.”

“Have you ever submitted to a woman?” she asked as she rang up my purchase.

“No, only to my master.”

“You might give it some thought,” she said. “You might like it.” She held up the nipple clamps. “Shall I wrap them or would you like to wear them home?”

I stared at her in surprise.

“Just kidding,” she laughed. She handed me my purchase.

“When you are ready to order the punishment bra give me a call, I’ll make sure we get you fitted properly.” She handed me a business card. “Also, among other things, I do body piercing, If you change your mind about piercing your nipples, come see me and I’ll give you a personal discount.”

“Oh I think I might like having them pierced,” I said. “And my master would probably like it too, but my husband is sure to ask questions.”

“Yes, that can be a problem,” she agreed. “Too bad because nipple rings and pussy rings add an entirely new dimension to submission. There’s nothing like being led around by a leash attached to your labia.”

That sent a tingle through my tummy.

“I guess I’m not your typical customer,” I said.

“Oh yes you are,” she said. “Very few of my customers walk around in leather and spikes. You’d never recognize the average submissive by looking at her.”

“Oh.” 

She leaned close and looked into my eyes. “Think about being dominated by  a woman. When you’re ready I’ll give you your first session for free.”

I grabbed my purchase and fled.        

‘My God,’ I thought. ‘I’ve just been propositioned by a lesbian.’

       I found the bells at a toy store.

       When I got home I put the small clips on my nipples and wore them around the house until the family came in.

       That night I dreamt that JR tied me to a bed then allowed a naked woman to pierce my nipples with rings, then she put a torture bra on me, attached leashes to the rings and forced me to follow her around in public. Afterward she made me kneel and lick her pussy while JR watched. It was a very disturbing dream.

       The dream bothered me for several days until I came to the conclusion that the dream meant that I was submitting to JR, not the woman. I asked myself how far I was willing to go to please him. Would I submit to something so distasteful as lesbian sex? Could I do it just to please him?    -    Yes, I could.

       I hopped for JR the next time we got together. He was delighted with my nipple clamps and bells and ordered me to hop and bounce for a long time. After a while he pointed out that I sounded like sleigh bells. I realized that he was right and started laughing. I got a case of giggles that I couldn’t stop so he finally gagged me to keep from disturbing the neighbors. When I got myself under control he made me hop with a different rhythm.

I had to hop three steps, then shake my boobs from side to side three times. Hop, hop, hop, shake, shake, shake. I looked so ridiculous in the mirrors that I started giggling again. JR used a whip across the back of my legs to encourage me to keep moving. I tried to hop but I couldn’t stop laughing. He whipped me harder and it really stung my legs. I tried to get away from him although there’s not much chance of that in a hobble.

I dodged and twisted, all the while shrieking with laughter. (Good thing I was wearing a gag). Finally I fell down and tried to roll under the bed. JR finally gave up, pulled me from under the bed and bent me over a chair. He spanked my bottom until I was moaning with delight then screwed me from behind. My bells jingled nicely in rhythm with his thrusts.

JR didn’t make me hop every time we met. Far from it, I was usually so tightly bound that I couldn’t move.

JR is very single minded. He planned every meeting and each one seemed to have a theme, or at least a point of interest. For example, one afternoon he ate my pussy for five hours. That’s right, FIVE hours.

When I arrived everything was prepared. He had moved the dresser away from the wall and taped a folded blanket to the top as padding. He ordered me to undress and climb on the dresser. I decided to see if I could  entice him away from what ever he had planned. When I was naked I clasped my hands behind my back and hopped around for a moment. My bouncing breasts diverted him for a while, he fondled them for a few minutes while I enjoyed another of his long wonderful kisses, but I still ended up tied to the dresser. I’ve learned that when JR has his mind made up it stays made up.

JR had me lie on my back while he tied my wrists to the legs of the dresser, then he bent each of my legs and tied my ankles to my upper thighs. Naturally he took his time, used plenty of rope and made sure that each leg was artistically tied and each knot was perfect. After that he tied a rope from each of my knees to the legs of the dresser. Those ropes kept my legs wide apart.

I wiggled happily because my pussy was at the right height for him to fuck while standing up. However, fucking wasn’t what he had in mind.

JR dragged a chair close, sat down and buried his face in my pussy. I got no warning, no warm up, one second I was lying quietly and the next instant JR’s mouth was engulfing my pussy!

Somehow I knew I was in for a wonderful afternoon.

JR ate my pussy.

That’s all he did that day. I had about a hundred orgasms, some within minutes of each other. They blurred together and seemed to be continuous. Don’t misunderstand, I like having my pussy eaten as much as the next woman, but five hours can drive a girl insane! I whimpered, sobbed, groaned, gasped, whined and begged for a few minutes break, and all he did was pause long enough to stuff a gag in my mouth. He didn’t even screw me that afternoon, and all he would have had to do was stand up and slide his cock in me, but nope!

JR just doesn’t take breaks very often but during one interval a very erotic incident happened. JR was in the bathroom and I was lying semi conscious when the door blew open.

I opened my eyes when I felt the breeze. At first I thought JR had gone out but I froze when I heard voices.

Three men were talking just outside our room. They were so close I could see their shadows on the wall. A couple of steps and they could have seen me. I didn’t know what to do. What would happen if they saw me? Would they think I’d been kidnapped and call the police. . . or would they just come in and fuck me?

I thought I’d have died of embarrassment if those men had seen me, but then . . . if they had screwed me it might serve JR right for keeping me so worked up. I lay back and waited to see what would happen. I was no longer frightened, in fact, I was getting turned on. I knew that if those men looked inside the first thing they would see would be my pussy, pink and damp.

It seemed to take forever but JR finally came out of the bathroom. He saw the open door and raised his eyebrows.

“Did someone come in?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He stuck his head out the door. The conversation stopped.

“Are we disturbing you?” I heard a man ask.

“Not at all,” JR replied. “I’m waiting for a pizza delivery and hoped you were it.”

“Sorry.”

JR stepped inside and attached the safety chain, but left the door ajar. No one could see me but they could hear. JR put his finger to his lips, then sat down, made himself comfortable, and went back to eating my pussy. I tried to keep quiet but his tongue drove me so wild that I stopped caring if anyone heard me or not. 

When JR finally untied me I couldn’t stand. My legs were so wobbly that he had to help me into the bathroom. I wanted to have a long soak in the tub but didn’t have time. I sat under the shower for a few minutes but I was so exhausted that I almost fell asleep and had to force myself to dry off and get dressed.

When I got home I told my husband that I didn’t feel well and to order pizza for dinner. After we ate I went to bed and slept for eleven hours straight.

My pussy was so tender that it throbbed all night and all the next day. I pretended to be sick and stayed in bed on Sunday just so I wouldn’t have to sit up. (Sitting put unbearable pressure on my pussy). I slept a lot that day and dreamt about being gang fucked by dozens of strangers while JR held the door open for them.

While I lay around I had time to calculate that I had arrived at the motel at noon and staggered out the door at five-forty. I was probably tied to the dresser within fifteen minutes of my arrival, and counting breaks and the time it took to shower and get dressed, I estimate that JR ate my pussy for a total of five hours.

(Did I mention that he might be slightly compulsive?)

It also occurred to me that JR did not cum that afternoon. He didn’t screw me or make me suck his cock, everything had been done for my pleasure alone.    

CH 4        

During the next session JR and I had a long discussion. He tied me to the bed and made love to me while we talked.

I wanted to talk right away but he had something planned and told me to wait.

He tied me in a flat spread eagle and lay atop me. He pressed his cock against my pussy, gathered my breasts together and lowered his chest onto them, and kissed me.

JR kept his lips on mine one way or another for almost an hour. Sometimes he simply kissed me, other times he nibbled my lips or explored the inside of my mouth with his tongue. Occasionally he slid down and sucked my breasts, but most of the time he attended to my mouth.

After a long time he raised my knees and entered my pussy, then he gave me permission to talk.

He kept a slow steady rhythm while I told him about my visit to the adult store and about my dream.

“So you dreamt about submitting to a woman?” he asked.

“Yes, and I didn’t like it at first,” I said. “But I realized that the dream was about submitting to you, not a woman.”

“Have you ever had any lesbian fantasies?” he asked.

“No.”

“Not even curious about it?”

“Never, why are you asking?”

“A lot of female slaves submit to lesbians even if they aren’t gay, it increases their feelings of humility and obedience. Some male slaves will submit to men for the same reason.”

“You mean that a submissive man might have to . . . open his mouth for another man if his mistress ordered him to?”

“Yes.”

“Even if he doesn’t like it?”

“Accepting such an extreme form of submission proves his devotion to his mistress. Besides, lots of people crave humiliation.”

“Men too?”

“Sure. Some men are truly submissive wimps, while others may be strong willed men who happen to enjoy role reversal at times. A man might like to be under someone else’s control for a change, instead of always being the one to make decisions.”

“The woman who waited on me at the store is a dominatrix but she said that she likes to be beaten once in a while by another woman. She said she liked the change of pace.”

“Same thing for some men.”

I imagined a naked man bound on his knees taking another man into his mouth while a cruel woman stood over him. I have to admit that I found the idea arousing.

“I think I understand.” I said. “Would you like to humiliate me in public?”

“Only if you would want it,” he replied.

I thought about it for a few minutes. The idea of doing sexual things in front of people did seem exciting, so long as JR was there to make me do them. I remembered that day the door blew open.

“If it weren’t for my family I think I would like let you do it,” I said.

“No matter what I might make you do?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And you think your dream signified that you would perform a lesbian act if I told you too?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting,” he mused.

“Would you like to watch me give pleasure to a woman with my mouth?” I asked. “I’ll do it if you want.”

He considered it for a few moments, then shrugged.

“It would be a way for me to prove my love,” I said.

“You’re proving it right now,” he said. “To my complete satisfaction, no other proof is necessary.”

I almost cried when he said that.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “But after all these years of emotional starvation perhaps I need to keep proving it to myself.”

“So if I gave you to woman you would submit just to prove your love?”

“Yes.”

“Would it help if I watched?”

“Yes, I think I would enjoy having you watch.”

“What if I were to go away and leave you alone with her?”

“I’d still do it.”

“What if I sold you into slavery or rented you out to men and women?”

“Yes.”

“Ever read the ‘Story of O’?”

“No, what is it?”

“A book about a woman who becomes a sex slave, and her master gives her to another man to test her devotion.”

“I understand that kind of devotion,” I said.

“O’s master gave her away permanently.”

That stopped me. I looked up at him in concern.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’m not giving you away. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.”

“For how long?”

“Thirty, forty years, maybe more.”

That did it! I was bawling like a baby.

That was the day I made up my mind to be branded.

When JR untied me I pushed him into the chair and crawled into his lap. I cuddled up and just sat in his arms.

“Master, would you please brand me?” I asked softly.

“What?”

“Remember when we first met we talked about branding? Well, I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It would be very painful.”

“I can take the pain,” I said. “I’m sort of looking forward to it.”

“A brand would be permanent,” he warned. “Your husband is sure to see it someday.”

“I want it to be permanent,” I said. “As for my husband, the day may come when I show it to him.”

“How do you plan to conceal it from him in the meantime?”

“I’ll shave my pubic hair before you brand me, then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see me naked until it grows back.”

“It will be sore for days,” he said.

“I know,” I said softly. “My pussy is getting damp thinking about it.” I guided his hand to my crotch.

The next instant I was on the bed and JR was on top of me and deep inside me. We made love and for the first time I was able to hold him in my arms.

JR told me he would give me two weeks to think it over before he branded me.

I knew I wasn’t going to change my mind and I thought about being branded for the next fourteen days. Anticipating the pain kept me so excited that I could barely contain myself.

Two days ahead of time I shaved my pussy. After that I had trouble sleeping for the remaining nights and when Saturday arrived I was so impatient that I barely got through the morning. My daughter saw how jumpy I was and asked what was wrong. I told her that it was just a case of nerves.

My husband was supposed to take the boys to a little league tournament that afternoon but it was rained out. At first I was annoyed, then pleased. I smiled to myself because I wanted him to be there when I came home wearing JR’s brand.

When I arrived at the motel JR kissed me for about five minutes, then he showed me his preparations.

He’d brought a hot plate, a propane torch, a socket wrench, and the brand. I looked at the brand closely. It was simply his initials made of iron. The initials were an inch wide and an inch and a half tall, and mounted on a long handle. They were already blackened from heat.

“This had been used,” I said. “Have you branded some other woman?”

“Dozens,” he said. “Do you think you are the only filly in my herd?”

“Ooh, you bastard!”

He chuckled. “The brand is new. I had it made just for you and the reason its blackened it that I tested it, see?”

He showed me a piece of thick leather. His initials were branded into it several times. The leather was light tan and his initials were a dark brown. My pussy throbbed when I saw it.

“This is what my tummy is going to look like?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yes, but you are going to have to be very brave,” he said.

“I’m not afraid of the pain,” I said.

“I know, but you still might jerk and blur the brand.”

“Oh, I never thought of that.”

“I think I’ve figured out a way to prevent that,” he said.

“How?”

“I’m going to tie you very tightly . . .”

“Ooh goody!” I interrupted.

“Be quiet and listen,” he said.

“Sorry Master.”

“I’m going to tie you very tightly,” he repeated. “I’m going to gag you in case you scream, and I’m going to blindfold you.”

“Blindfold? I want to watch.”

“No,” he said firmly. “If you see it coming you still might jerk involuntarily.”

Darn! I wanted to watch but I didn’t want a blurred brand on my tummy.

“You aren’t going to know the brand is coming because I’m going to lower your anticipation.”

“How will you do that?”

“I brought a metal tool the same size as the brand, see?” he held up the socket wrench. “I’m going to chill this in a bowl of ice and I’ll touch it to your skin several times before I use the brand. The ice cold metal will feel just like red hot metal for a split second. You’ll get accustomed to the touch and with the blindfold you won’t see the real brand coming.”

“Oh,” I thought about it. “I guess it makes sense, but I’d rather watch.”

“You’ll be able to watch it later,” he said. “I brought a video camera.”

He is so wonderful!

“What is the hot plate for?” I asked.

“Its to preheat the brand, I’ll heat it the rest of the way with the torch.”

“Ok.”

“It will be red hot,” he warned. “So hot that it will glow.”

“Yesssssss.”

He handed me an ice bucket “Why don’t you run down to the ice machine and fill this up,” he said.

“Yes Master.”

When I returned JR placed the wrench into the ice.

The brand was already hot. JR lit the torch and held the flame to the brand until it glowed red.

“Watch this.”

He pressed the brand against the leather, smoke appeared instantly.

“Oh my God!” I gasped.

“That’s going to happen to your skin,” JR warned. “Are you certain . . .?”

He shut up when he saw that I was tearing my clothes off.

He turned off the torch then positioned the chair to catch the light. Then he set up the camera and shot a few test frames.

“Sit down so I can get a light reading off your skin,” he ordered.

“Yes master.” I sat down and opened my legs.

JR stopped dead when he saw my naked pussy.

“Wow, that’s nice,” he said.

I wriggled with pleasure.

“If I’d known you liked it shaved, I’d have done it long ago.”

“What would your husband have said?” he asked.

“Who cares?”

JR gazed at my pussy for a moment, then picked up the ropes.

“I think I should get you tied up,” he said.

“About damn time.”

He started to tie me but I stopped him.

“Wait,” I said. “Why don’t you film me being tied up.?”

“Ok.”

“And make sure you get close ups of my pussy before and after.”

I stepped away and he turned the camera on. I walked into view, rested my hand on the back of the chair, slowly turned completely around. JR zoomed in on my pussy and I held still for a minute, then he zoomed out and I sat down. I smiled at the camera and crossed my legs. I looked into the lens.

“Hi,” I said in my most sultry voice. “I am Mrs. Jean Lee. My husband is Scott Lee and we live at 1234 Blank Street in Denver Colorado. I’m at a motel and I’m about to be branded.” 

I uncrossed my legs and opened them wide. I touched my chest and slowly slid my hand down to my belly.

“Being branded is my idea,” I said. “I’m a sex slave to another man and I’ve begged him to brand

me with his initials and he’s agreed to do it. I’m going to wear my master’s brand right here,” I touched the spot. “Just above my pussy.”

I smiled at JR. He stepped close with the ropes.

I placed my hands behind the chair and he tied my wrists very tightly. I couldn’t suppress a gasp of delight. He wrapped rope around my torso and the chair above and below my breasts. JR moved to my legs. He pulled my knees wide apart and tied them to the chair arms, then he tied my ankles.

“Ok, are you ready?” he asked.

I was so excited that I was trembling.

“Yes Master, I’m ready.”

He put the gag in my mouth. He tightened the buckle and I winked at the camera as he lowered a blindfold over my eyes. 

I heard JR bustling around. I heard the propane torch light with a pop and smelled the odor of the gas. I have never been so excited in my life!

His finger touched me an inch above my pussy. A moment later I jumped when something cold touched the same spot. JR was right, it felt hot for a split second. I gasped and felt a wonderful thrill shoot through my pussy.

“Ummmmm!” I moaned happily. A moment later the cold metal touched me again. I jerked slightly, but giggled. It touched me a third time, then I heard the torch move. I tensed, was this it?

Something touched my nipple. I gasped in surprise. Was he going to brand my breast too? No, it was cold. I shook my breasts, then remembered that I was supposed to hold still. There was a long pause, I waited and waited. When was he going to touch me again? Finally I felt another cold touch near my belly button, another on my breast and another inside my thigh.

‘Oh God,’ I thought. ‘He may play this out for an hour. I’ll be out of my mind by then.’

I felt another cold touch above my pussy, another on my breast. It went away but was instantly replaced by another touch above my pussy. It felt the same for a second, then I felt the pain! Every muscle in my body tensed.

‘Don’t move,’ I told myself. ‘You can take the pain, its for JR and you can take it! Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move!’

I was doing ok, I hadn’t moved, but then I smelled meat cooking and heard JR say: “Now my little slave girl, you’ve been branded for life.”

The orgasm roared through me like an avalanche! I blacked out instantly.

When I awoke my blindfold and gag were gone but I was still tied to my chair. JR was putting away the torch and things.

“Hi,” he said. “Have a nice nap?”

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“A couple of hours.”

“What?”

“Just kidding,” he laughed. “You’ve been asleep about ten minutes.”

“Asleep? I fainted.”

“From shock or pain?” he asked.

“I think I fainted from an orgasm,” I said, wriggling contentedly, then I remembered and looked at my pussy. “My God, I can’t see it.”

“Believe me, its there,” he laughed. “Hold on and I’ll untie you.”

“Wait, is the camera still on?”

“No, I turned it off while you were unconscious.”

“Why don’t you put my gag and blindfold back and turn on the camera, then remove them and untie me on video. I’ll stand up and display my brand for the camera.”

“Are you becoming a porn model?”

“Please?”

“Ok, open up.”

He replaced my gag and blindfold.

“Ok the camera is running.”

I had my eyes closed when JR removed my blindfold again. I looked languidly at the camera and smiled contentedly as soon as the gag was out of my mouth. JR untied me and I stood up. Pain shot through my belly.

“Ooh!” I gasped. I straightened up and posed beside the chair. I turned back and forth, then spread my legs and placed my hands on my hips. JR zoomed the camera in for a close up of my brand. I held the pose for a minute, then he turned the camera off.

I tried to see my brand in the dresser mirror, but it was too high. I ran into the bathroom. Same thing. I tried hopping but that didn’t work. I could have wept in frustration. I trudged back into the bedroom. JR gave me a hand mirror when I walked in. He’d thought to bring one.

I held the mirror close to my tummy. The letters were a deep, dark red, almost brown and the skin around them was bright rink. I touched the letters gingerly, it hurt.

“Wow!” I gasped.

“Painful?” JR asked.

“Yes it is,” I said.

He knelt and inspected it. “I think we got it centered nicely,” he said. “And the letters are straight up and down.”

I was very pleased. I hugged him.

“Thank you very much, Master.”

“You are welcome, Mrs. Lee.”

“What are we going to do now?” I asked.

“I brought a still camera,” he said. “I thought I’d take a few still pictures too.”

“You think of everything,” I said. “You must have done this before.”

“Dozens of times.”

I hoped he was kidding.

He got out his camera and took pictures of my brand.

“We don’t need more than five or six pictures,” he said. “What should we do to use up the rest of the roll?”

“How about this?” I sat in the chair and spread my legs wide. He grinned and took a picture. I hopped up and turned around, bent over and displayed my pussy and bottom. JR finished the roll taking pictures of me posing in the most obscene positions I could think of.

“Where are you going to get the film developed?” I asked. “I wouldn’t take it to the corner drug store.”

“I’ll do it at home,” he said. “I have a dark room in the basement.”

“Did you happen to bring any more film?” I asked. “I’ll pose some more if you like.”

“No, I only brought one roll,” he said. “But I can get some more in the lobby.”

“Why don’t you tie me up, then go get some film?” I suggested.

“You want to be tied up again?” he asked surprised.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you might be in too much pain,” he said.

I hugged him again and rubbed my breasts against his chest. “I’m never in too much pain,” I said softly. “And I’d like to reward you, my wonderful Master. Tie me any way you choose then fuck me silly.”

I was rewarded by another deep lingering kiss.

JR tied me to the bed in a no nonsense, legs wide apart, spread eagle position perfect for screwing, then walked to the lobby and bought film.

He shot several rolls of me tied to the bed, unfortunately I was in the same position for every shot. Since I was tied up all I could change was my expression. It was too much trouble to retie me for each picture. It made me realize that bondage models must go through a lot of changes every time they do a photo shoot. I’ll bet more time is spent retying them than taking pictures.

JR offered to change my pose but I asked him to put the damn camera down and get on top of me. He looked at my brand doubtfully.

“That’s going to hurt,” he said.

“That’s the idea,” I said. “I’m a sex slave remember? Now please fuck me.”

He still looked uncertain as he crawled on top of me. His weight did hurt my brand which triggered a masochistic thrill. I gasped in genuine delight and that set him off. He began screwing me like there was no tomorrow. I enjoyed several sweet orgasms.

At the end of the day JR got dressed. He laughed when he caught me admiring myself in the mirror for the tenth time.

“My my, aren’t you becoming the narcissist,” he joked.

“I’m proud of my brand,” I told him. I pushed my belly toward him. “See?”

“I’m proud of you,” he said, taking me in his arms.

My belly was very painful when I got home. I walked carefully from my car to hide the pain, but to my surprise I had the house to myself. My daughter was on a date and my husband left a note telling me that he and the boys had gone to the movies.

I undressed and stood in front of my full length mirror. I looked at the brand for a long time. I was very proud of myself.

I walked naked to the kitchen and rubbed antiseptic ointment on the brand to prevent infection. Rubbing  was painful and I got excited and masturbated right there in the kitchen. I liked being naked so I stayed that way. I puttered around watering plants and tidying up until I heard my husband’s car in the driveway. I went to my bedroom, picked up a gown and walked leisurely to the front hall. I stood inside the door and waited until I heard my husband’s key in the lock before I slipped the nightgown over my head. It dropped in place just as the door opened.

The boys went to the family room and turned on a video game. Hubby gave me a peck on the cheek and settled into his recliner. I sat on the couch and pretended to watch television.

I was very happy. I had finally done something special. I wore a permanent mark showing that I was valued by a good man and I was now his property. I felt wonderful!

My husband sensed my good mood and decide that he wanted sex. He was waiting when I came to bed. We always made love in the dark so I didn’t worry about him seeing the brand. But I didn’t want him  to touch my pussy and discover that I’d shaved, so I pushed him onto his back and played with his cock. At first I just wanted to get it over with, but lying on my stomach made my brand rub against the sheets, which turned me on.

I sucked hubby’s cock with real enthusiasm. I hoped to make him cum in my mouth but he sat up, rolled me onto my back and climbed on. He was in such a hurry that he didn’t notice that my pussy was bald. His lovemaking was paltry compared to JR, but his pudgy belly bouncing on JR’s brand really lit my fire and I decided to give him the screwing of his life.

‘If you only knew that you are fucking another man’s slave,’ I thought. I clasped him close, wrapped my legs around him, gasped and moaned and put on a convincing display.

Some of the groans were real though, my brand hurt and I gasped in pain. Oddly I didn’t enjoy the pain the way I did with JR. I closed my eyes and pretended that JR was screwing me and my yelps inspired hubby who for once did a good job. I actually had an orgasm.

Evidently I’d been pretty noisy. When we finished I could hear my sons giggling in their rooms and I surprised myself by not being embarrassed. I got up and put on my gown. The bed was a wreck and I wanted to tidy it up but my husband was already asleep. I looked at him, sprawled across the bed with his mouth open.

‘I hope you enjoyed that,’ I thought. ‘Because that was the last time. From now on only my master gets to fuck me.’

I went to the kitchen and made myself a snack.

CH 5

The next time we met JR brought the photographs and video. He showed me the pornographic pictures first. I cringed when I saw my body, but JR insisted that he liked the pictures and thought they were very erotic. He said that my genuine passion was obvious and me being a real every day woman was more erotic than some professional Barbie Doll model. I did have to admit that my face radiated the pure happiness of a woman in love. JR joked that he ought to submit the pictures to a porn magazine. I told him go ahead and that I would pose for more if he wanted me to.

(Much later he did send naughty pictures of me to a bondage magazine. I posed in a gag and blindfold, which effectively hid my face so that I doubt that anyone would recognize me. The magazine published the pictures in their amateur section and over the years we sent in several more. JR bought copies. I still have them carefully hidden away.)

The pictures of my brand were great, but they were all close ups. My pussy was visible but not my face.

Best of all was the video. I was fascinated watching myself and got turned on watching JR tie me up. 

Watching the video gave me the opportunity to see what JR did after I was blindfolded.

He sat crossed legged at my feet and made himself comfortable. He lit the torch and held the flame against the brand. I was utterly enthralled watching the metal heat up until it glowed red. He set the brand back on the hot plate and pulled the wrench from the ice. It was fascinating watching myself jerk when it touched me.

“I thought I was holding perfectly still,” I marveled.

JR patted my hand.

The video showed him touch the cold metal to my body several times then shift the wrench to his left hand and pick up the brand. He held it in the flame for a moment then moved it between my knees. He leaned forward and peered at my pussy, then with his left hand touched the cold wrench to my breast and a second later pressed the brand against my belly.

Watching myself react was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen!   

My body jerked as the brand was removed, then became stiff as every muscle tightened. I watched my chest rise slowly but powerfully until my back was arched away from the chair. My head strained back, my breasts pointed at  the ceiling and my upper body was almost bent double. Muscles stood out in my neck and my arms lifted until my topes were as taut as steel cables. My body was rigid for a long, long time, then I collapsed. My head rolled for a moment, then dropped onto my chest.

Watching it was like a physical blow. My pussy flashed white hot and my legs got weak. I sank to the floor. 

“That must have been very painful,” JR commented.

“It wasn’t the pain,” I whispered. “That was an orgasm.”

“No kidding?”

I just nodded.

JR looked at me in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I managed to whisper.

I hadn’t undressed yet, but my hands were on my breasts squeezing hard.

“There’s more on the tape,” JR said.

The scene changed to a close up of my brand. The camera held on it for a few moments then panned up to my head. JR removed my gag and blindfold and untied me. I watched myself stand, then pause as a look of surprise came over my face.

“That was when you realized how painful it was,” JR commented. I nodded.

I straightened, the camera focused on my pussy and my new brand then back to my face, then the tape ended. 

“Rewind it please,” I begged.

“I thought you told me your breasts weren’t sensitive,” he said.

I looked at him questioningly. He nodded toward my chest. I looked down and saw that I was still squeezing my boobs.

“Good heavens!” I gasped and took my hands away.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said. “I like what you’re doing.”

“Yes Master.” I squeezed my breasts again. “Would you please rewind the tape?” I asked.

“All right,” he said. “But get your clothes off.”

I practically tore them off.

He rewound the tape but didn’t start it. “Kneel and spread your legs,” he commanded. I hurried to obey.

“Lock your fingers behind your neck and keep them there,” he said. “Don’t touch your pussy.”

He played the tape again in slow motion. I could have watched it a thousand times.

As it turned out I did get to watch it many times that day. JR tied me face down over the table and screwed me from behind while he replayed the tape over and over.

The tape is only sixteen minutes long and JR made a copy that repeated the scene for the entire duration of the tape, over ninety minutes. A few years ago he transferred it to DVD for me, I watch it all the time.

That afternoon JR asked if I’d ever been screwed in my ass.

“No master,” I answered, “But I’d love to have you do it if that’s what you want.”

“Are you sure?”

I craned my neck to look at him.

“Of course I’m sure,” I said. “How can you ask that? I’m your slave, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Ok, but it might hurt.”

“I like it when you hurt me,” I told him. “Besides, I’ve thought about having you do that to me for a long time.”

He put his cock in my ass. He was gentle but it did hurt, and as I expected, I liked it.

I watched the tape one more time after JR finished with me.

“That’s interesting,” I commented.

“What is?” JR asked.

“I can’t get over the way my body moved while you were branding me,” I said. “I thought I was holding perfectly still.”

“No way,” he laughed. “You were straining so hard that I thought the ropes might snap.”

I grew to like being fucked from behind. Partly because I enjoyed the sensation and partly because JR liked it.

I recall one afternoon in particular. I was tied face down on the bed, arms and legs spread wide. It was winter and snow was falling outside. I got a little cool and JR climbed on top of me and just lay there. His weight felt good and his body kept me warm. I felt secure and loved and happy. We didn’t speak, we just lay there for a long time. Eventually I felt his cock stir and press against my pussy. JR didn’t move his body, he just let his cock slip inside me. I tried not to move, to just savor the moment, but his cock began to heat me up. I wiggled my bottom slightly but JR didn’t respond. I wiggled a little more but with no response. It became a silent test of wills. I was determined to make him screw me and he was determined to resist. I began rotating my hips and gently thrusting upward. The unspoken rule was that he couldn’t with draw. My gyrations were beginning to work. I felt him grow harder. I began making hopeful little puppy whimpers. Finally I opened my eyes and looked back at him. That did it.

JR yanked his cock out of my pussy and slammed it back into my rectum. Then he went insane and fucked me like a wild man. He reached under me, grabbed my breasts with iron hard fingers and squeezed until I was gasping in pain and delight. He yanked and tugged and twisted my breasts until I wondered if they’d come off in his hands, but all the time I was feeling a rippling glow of pleasure. My breasts got hotter and hotter and a sweet buzzing seemed to come from my pussy. Finally JR came with one of the most violent orgasms I’d ever seen. He thrust into me with more power than I could imagine, and I came too!

I had an orgasm while being screwed in my ass. I don’t know if that was the source of ecstasy or it was the tormenting of my breasts, perhaps it was both, but I came!  

JR jumped off the bed, grabbed a whip and cut across my bottom with all his strength. It was like fire and it took all my will power not to scream. I raised my butt and begged for more. I got more.

JR whipped me so hard that my orgasms didn’t stop. I slid into a sort of trance where I felt the furious pain from the whip in perfect rhythm with my orgasms. I wasn’t gagged and didn’t want to take the time to have JR put one in my mouth, so in a deep part of my brain, where a tiny bit of reason still existed I clenched my teeth and held back my screams, but the rest of my being gave itself over to the heavenly delight of whip and orgasms.

When JR, exhausted, finally put the whip down, I lay on the bed and sobbed. He knelt beside me, looked at me in concern, then smiled when I managed to wink at him. He put a blanket over me, curled up beside me and we both fell asleep.

That was one of the best whippings I’d ever gotten. My legs and bottom were crossed with deep whip cuts and a couple of them were seeping drops of blood. JR felt terrible and apologized, but I hugged him close and thanked him for the most erotic afternoon of my life. His fingers left deep bruises on my breasts and the whip marks lasted for almost three weeks. Wonderful!

 

As we were packing up at the end of the day I asked JR to loan me the brand.

“Certainly,” he replied. “But what do you want it for?”

“I have a little idea,” I said. “I’d like to try it before I tell you.”

“You aren’t going to brand yourself again, are you?”

“No, nothing like that. Could you bring it next week?”

“I don’t have to,” he said. “Its in the trunk of my car.”

I took the brand to a custom leather goods shop and asked them to make me a purse, and to brand it with JR’s initials. They told me that branding would make it look like a cowgirl’s purse and suggested that if I preferred something more sophisticated they could emboss the leather instead. I agreed but insisted that the embossing match JR’s brand perfectly. It cost me extra but they made a special stamp.

I was delighted when I saw the purse. The workmanship was exquisite, they had embossed JR’s initials on the flap just as I’d wanted. I had selected leather the same color as my skin and told them to emboss the initials in a reddish brown dye. When I got home I undressed and held the purse beside my tummy. The stamp matched my brand perfectly.

The leather shop keeps the stamp for me. Over the years I’ve ordered purses, wallets, check books, belts and key rings, all embossed to match my brand. I have formal purses in black patent leather, every day brown, summer white and natural skin tone (my favorite). No one has ever asked me why those initials appear on all my leather items, but if anyone ever does I intend to tell them.

My scar healed after a couple of weeks and I allowed my pubic hair grew back. I hated to cover the brand and I was sorry when it stopped hurting because every twinge was an erotic thrill.

I’ve fantasized  about being branded again, perhaps on my bottom but specially on my breasts.  I pretend I’m bound tightly to a cross and my breasts are forced outward. I watch the red hot branding iron approach until I can feel the heat on my breast. Then JR touches the brand gently to my nipple and I hear that tiny sizzle just before I feel the pain. When the heat sears through my nipple its enough to make me cum. I told JR about my fantasy hoping he might actually do it to me, but he adamantly refuses. He says that one brand on my body is enough, and besides, he doesn’t want to permanently damage my breasts. Reluctantly I have to agree with him. Now that I’ve learned to enjoy my breasts I don’t want to have the  nerves damaged.

I did discover a nice substitute for branding though, hot candle wax. I saw pictures in a bondage magazine of women being tortured with hot wax dripped onto their breasts and I tried it at home. The effect of the hot wax hitting my nipple was terrific!

I was home alone one morning and found some old birthday candles in a kitchen drawer. I stripped to the waist, lit a candle and let the wax drip onto my breast. I had a tiny orgasm when the first drop landed and several more before I was done. I spent the entire morning dripping wax on myself.  My masochism had progressed to the point that any form of sexual pain was delightful. I went through the house a looking for candles and ended up burning every candle I could find. I had to go out that afternoon and buy a new supply. The only problem was that JR wasn’t torturing me and I wasn’t tied up.

I told JR about the candles and he agreed to torture me with hot wax. I brought several large thick candles to the motel and enjoyed one of the most erotically masochistic afternoons of my life. JR tied me to the bed with my back arched over a pile of pillows then knelt between my legs and screwed me while he poured wax on my breasts. The instant the first blob of hot wax landed on my nipple I had an orgasm. JR paused, wondering if I was thrashing in pain or delight. I assured him I was enjoying my self so he dripped more wax onto me. I warned him that he’d better gag me or else I was likely going to start screaming loud enough to disturb the whole neighborhood. He gagged me.

JR got turned on by my wild thrashing and fucked me very nicely. In fact we consumed all my candles so he got dressed and went out and bought more.

JR being who he is, took hot wax to another level. He poured molten wax onto my breasts until they were covered an inch thick. He broke off the cooled wax and coated my boobs again. Then he got creative. I hadn’t thought of pouring hot wax onto my pussy, but he did. He waited until my shudders from orgasm number eight (or possibly twenty-eight) died down, then without warning dumped a mass of molten wax right onto my pussy. Thank God I was gagged, otherwise my scream would have started people all across town.

JR waited until I regained my senses, then poured more wax into my crotch. I lost count of the orgasms and when we finally ran out of candles, and time, my pussy was buried under an inch of hardened wax. JR decided it would be fun to peel it off, and being a man had no idea about removing hair with wax. I was gagged and couldn’t tell him not to do it. I tried to yell in my gag but I’d been making so much noise with orgasms that he paid no attention. When he yanked that glob of wax half my pubic hair went with it. And I had another fantastic orgasm!

JR stared in astonishment, then laughed when he saw my bald pussy.

“Hey, I can see the brand,” he laughed. “I haven’t gotten a look at it since your hair grew in.”

He picked at the cooled wax.

“Hmm, we didn’t get it all.” He jerked another chunk off and I had another orgasm. He worked all the wax off along with the rest of my pubic hair.

I glared at him over my gag. Now I was going to have to dodge around and keep my husband from seeing me naked for several weeks. Still, it was nice to see my brand again.

When we ended that afternoon the bed was covered with little pieces of crumbly wax. So much so that I took the coverlet off the bed and shook it out in the parking lot

My breasts were bright red from being scorched, so was the skin around my pussy. My skin hurt for a couple of days, like a bad sunburn, and since I was by then a total masochist, it turned me on.

JR also came up with another way to remove built up wax, he whips it off.

One afternoon he produced that tiny little blue whip and snapped hit firmly across my wax covered breasts. A small chunk of wax came off with each blow and by the time my breast was clean it was bright pink, throbbing with arousal and I’d had a couple of more delightful little orgasms. JR cleared off my other breast the same way, then moved on to my pussy. He enjoyed de-waxing me so much that he covered my entire torso and started all over again.

JR and I continued to meet and he constantly thought up new ways to tie me up. He made an arrangement with the motel. Money changed hands and he arranged that we always get the same room and they allowed him to make a few minor modifications. He brought the mirrors back and mounted them permanently, and he attached hooks to the walls and ceiling. I wonder what the other guests think when they stay in the room.

I like the ceiling hook because he hoists me up by my wrists and whips my breasts. It took some getting used to and the first couple of times it really hurt my shoulders. JR saw that I was real pain and let me down  but I felt that I had failed him and begged him to hang me back up. He hoisted me up but kept me there only a short time. My shoulders hurt for several days.

I was determined to endure hanging by my wrists so I practiced at home. I made a noose and looped it over a beam in the garage. I stood on a box, placed my hands through the noose and let the rope take my weight. I practiced every chance I got until I could step off the box and really hang by my wrists. Now I can hang for hours.

I was almost discovered by my daughter one afternoon. I was hanging in the garage when I heard her come home. I rushed to step back on the box but accidentally kicked it over. I could hear her calling me as I frantically tried to reach the box with my toe. Her voice got closer and closer but I managed to reach the box and pull it close enough to stand on. I released myself and dropped to the floor just as she came in. She noticed my red face and rushed breathing.

“What’s the matter, Mom?” she asked.

“Nothing, I was exercising using this box, see?” I stepped on and off the box a few times. “Its cheaper than buying one of those work out machines.”

“What’s the rope for?” she asked.

“I can grab it if I lose my balance.”

“Ok,” she said doubtfully. I don’t think she believed me completely. 

I folded my arms to hide the rope marks on my wrists.

I like being hoisted up and whipped on my breasts, but after all these years still haven’t decided if I prefer having my ankles tied or having my legs loose. I feel really helpless when they’re tied, but its fun to kick and thrash my legs. JR likes watching my legs almost as much as he likes watching my breasts bounce.

Sometimes he ties my legs open and whips my pussy, and sometimes he hangs me upside down with a spreader bar between my ankles. I REALLY like that, especially when he whips my pussy!  

I saw some stuff in a fetish magazine about women being hanged by their necks, real hanging, like an execution. Apparently some people find that erotic. I saw it as an extreme form of submission and it intrigued me so I asked JR to hang me by the neck. He had reservations but agreed to try it.

He tied my hands behind my back, tied my knees and ankles very tightly then made a hangman’s noose and slipped it over my head. I wasn’t frightened and my pussy tingled with anticipation. I smiled  brightly at him. He took a grip on the rope and hauled me up. The rope tightened on my throat and I felt an unpleasant pressure in my face and ears. JR held me for a few minutes, then lowered me to the floor.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Lets try again.”

He pulled me up until me feet were off the floor. I felt the same pressure and constriction on my throat. I held my breath as long as I could but finally had to breathe. I gasped and rolled my eyes at JR and he let me down.

He took the noose off and I caught my breath.

“Once more,” I said.

He hauled me up again and I tried to wiggle around a bit, but when I ran out of breath he lowered me.

“I don’t think this does anything for me,” he said.

I nodded. It didn’t turn me on either.

JR made some portable restraint devices and brought them to the motel. 

He made a set of stocks, like from the middle ages. I like being locked into them and getting a good screwing from behind, but they are bulky and take too long to set up, so we didn’t use them very often.

JR also brings a kneeling post, which is just a four by four post atop a padded wooden base. He makes me kneel with my back to the post and ties my arms and legs behind it. I enjoy the position because I feel nicely submissive on my knees and its ideal for sucking his cock. He can whip my breasts, but other than that there isn’t much else he can do to me. He’s kept me tied to the post for long periods of time (thank God for the padding under my knees) and I’ve gotten so used to it that I’ve actually fallen asleep .

One Saturday I’d just sucked his cock until he filled my mouth with cum. He staggered to the bed, collapsed and fell asleep. I resigned myself to wait until he woke up.

I knelt quietly and listened to the sounds of traffic outside but I wasn’t bored. I daydreamed that the door blew open again and a couple of men walked past and saw me. They came in the room, saw JR asleep on the bed, then tiptoed over to me. I whispered to them to open their trousers and I would suck their cocks, but they had to be quiet and not wake my master. They did as I suggested and I sucked them both, unfortunately they forgot to close the door and another man happened by so I had to suck his cock as well. More men wandered in and in my daydream I sucked the cocks of a dozen men, all without disturbing JR’s nap.

I was so turned on by my daydream that when JR woke up I begged to suck his cock again. He thought it over, then graciously allowed me to do it. He was delighted at how enthusiastic I was.

Another of JR’s creations is a sort of a platform with an opening for my breasts. He rests the ends across two chairs and I lie face down on it. My breasts drop through the opening, he ties me to the table, then spends hours tying ropes around my boobs, hanging weights from my nipples and generally driving me out of my mind. Its also convenient for placing candles under my breasts. I don’t get wax on my boobs, but the heat on my nipples is excruciatingly erotic. I pretend I’m being roasted alive, like a woman in Dolcett’s drawings.

One day he experimented with how wide he could spread my legs. He brought a long board with rings on the ends. He put the board under the mattress so it stuck out five feet on each side of the bed. He tied me to the bed, ran my ankle ropes through the rings on the ends of the boards and tightened them. He tightened them for half an hour. He’d tie the ropes, wait for my muscles to stretch and adjust, then tighten the ropes some more. When I say he tightened them, I mean HE TIGHTENED THEM! I thought he was going to dislocate my hips. By the time he decided that my legs weren’t going to open any further, I was in pain, serious, non erotic pain.

He made up for it by eating my pussy for the rest of the afternoon but I told him he was going to have to do a lot more before I was ready to forgive him.

I’d strained the muscles in my thighs and was so sore that I could barely walk for days. I told everyone that I’d over done my workout at aerobics.

JR was genuinely contrite and the next week he didn’t tie me up. He brought a bottle of my favorite wine and a box of candy and had me lie on the bed while he gave me a massage. He rubbed my legs and my back and nuzzled my neck and ears until I was purring like a cat.

I enjoyed being pampered and milked it for a couple of hours, then decided that I wanted to be tied up. I told him that I would forgive him only if he gave me a good sound spanking.

My favorite device is an X cross. He brought it disassembled and put it together with bolts and wing nuts. He simply leaned it against the wall and strapped me to it. It makes me feel wonderfully vulnerable and although he usually whips my pussy, JR can think up a lot of other wicked things to do to me, especially when it comes to amusing himself with my breasts.

One afternoon I fell asleep on the cross.

JR had played with my pussy for about an hour and I’d had a wonderful orgasm. I was floating in a warm pink haze and fell asleep.

JR slipped on his pants and got his camera from his car. I woke up just as he snapped a picture of me. I smiled and he took several more.

The pictures turned out nicely but one in particular was special. He cropped and enlarged it until my face filled the frame like a close up. My head was tilted down slightly, I’d just opened my eyes and had a contented smile on my lips, and by pure chance the light and shadows helped create a very artistic picture. Its probably the best photograph ever taken of me.

JR printed an eight by ten of my face, and a full length picture of me on the cross. I framed the portrait, hid the other picture behind it in the frame and put it on my dresser. I told my husband that the company photographer was testing a new camera and had snapped the picture. Hubby liked it so well that he talked me into putting it in the living room. 

CH 6

I waited until the kids were grown, then six years after becoming JR’s slave I divorced my husband. He took it calmly and didn’t seem surprised or upset when I told him I wanted a divorce. He accepted it with the same dull complacency that he takes everything in life.

For years I’d dreamt about telling him about JR. I had the pictures and video ready. I shaved my pussy so I could show him my brand, but at the last minute I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt sorry for the weak little slug and decided not to humiliate him so I said nothing about JR and my secret life.

The divorce was amicable. We sold the house and split the proceeds. My husband bought a tiny place in the country near his favorite fishing stream and will happily spend the rest of his life there. I bought a townhouse and live alone. After the divorce my anger faded. We see each other at family get togethers and are civil to one another, almost friendly.

I felt as if a thousand pounds had been lifted off me. I was free to love my man and free to live my life. After the divorce JR and I still met at the motel, but now I walked in with my head high and my eyes sparkling. I not only didn’t care if people knew that I was meeting my master, I wanted them to know!

I was so proud of being JR’s slave that I went back to the sex shop and bought a bunch of slave girl accessories.

I browsed through the shop looking at whips and handcuffs and fetish jewelry. The same woman waited on me and she remembered me.

“How did the nipple bells work out?” she asked.

“Quite nicely,” I said. “They get a lot of use.”

“Have you changed your mind about getting your nipples pierced?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t given it much thought. My only form of body modification has been to be branded.”

“You’ve been branded?” she asked. “Really?”

“Yes I have. My master burned his initials on me.” I lowered my voice. “In a very intimate place.”

Her eyes went to my breasts.

“No, not my boobs,” I said. “Lower down.” I pointed at my crotch.

“My God!” she whispered in awe.

I discovered that its as much fun to tease a woman as it is to tease a man. I began to flirt with her.

“I suppose I could ask my master if he wants me to have my nipples pierced,” I said. “He might consider it.”

She leaned close. “I’ll do it for free.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” I said. “But I get the feeling that there would be some strings attached. Or should I say ropes?”

She smiled and nodded.

“I was tied to a chair when my master branded me,” I said. “I expect you would want to tie me up too.”

“You better believe it,” she said.

I pretended to be shocked.

“Have you given any thought about being dominated by a woman?” she asked. “I wouldn’t charge you for that either.”

“Actually I have thought about it,” I told her. “I’d submit to a woman if my master told me to but I’d be doing it to prove my devotion him. He would have to order me to do it.”

“Do you think he would?”

“I doubt it, he said that he already had enough proof from me.”

“Damn.”

She had to wait on another customer so I continued shopping.

I saw a slave collar I liked.

Its a heavy steel ring half an inch thick. Its massive and brutal looking and held together by a heavy padlock. Its purpose is obvious.

I tried on several until I found one that fit. Most were too big for my neck and I realized they were designed for male slaves.    

I bought a set of tiny handcuff earrings and some tee shirts that say things like: ‘Sex Slave’, Chain Me To Your Bed’ and ‘Whips And Shackles And Chains, Oh My!’

I teased the woman again when I paid for my things.

“Don’t wrap the steel collar,” I told her. “I’ll wear it home.”

“Going to see your master today?” she asked.

“No, I won’t see him for a couple of days. I’ll just wear it around the house until then.”

“Naughty lady,” she laughed. “By the way, would you give me your master’s phone number?”

“What for?”

“I want to ask his permission to tie you up,” she said.

“No way,” I laughed. “But, since you’ve been so nice I’ll let you to put this on me.” I handed her the ring.

I leaned across the counter while she placed the ring around my neck. She snapped the lock and offered me the key. I unbuttoned the top of my shirt and stuck my chest forward. She dropped the key in my bra, then slipped her finger into my cleavage. I actually let her touch me for a second before I straightened up.

“You’re a tease,” she said. “You need to be taught some discipline.”

“No doubt about that,” I said looking at my collar in a mirror. “What have you got in mind?”

“A damn good whipping.”

I looked at her, rubbed my breasts and smiled.

“Honey, I can take the worst you could give and never bat an eye.”

“Why don’t we find out?” she whispered.

“Not a chance.” I made a kissing mouth.

“Oh, you little bitch,” she laughed.

“You’ve got that right.” I said.

I bought a leather mini skirt and spike heels to wear with my slave girl tee shirts. I attract a lot of attention when I arrive at the motel, I even get whistled at.

One afternoon while I was hopping back and forth in the room there was a knock at the door. JR answered it and I heard the motel clerk’s voice.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he said. “But its driving me crazy, what is that jingling noise?”

JR stepped back and opened the door wide. The clerk’s mouth dropped open when he saw me.

I was tied at my ankles and knees and my arms were bent up behind my back. I wore my golden pussy chain, my nipple bells and a gag. My hair was a mess, I was sweating and my breasts were heaving from exertion. JR let the clerk look for a moment, then snapped his fingers at me and I resumed hopping. When I reached the wall and turned the clerk was gone.

Later as I was leaving the clerk stopped me in the parking lot.

“I was wondering what you charge for a session,” he asked politely.

I guess I should have expected to be mistaken for a hooker, especially the way I was dressed, so I wasn’t offended. He was young and cute and I decided to mess with him.

“I’m afraid I’m not available,” I said. “I’m in private practice and on permanent retainer to a single client.”

“Oh,” he was disappointed.

“Besides, I’m too old for you, even if I was accepting new customers.”

“How old are you?” he asked, looking at my boobs.

“I’m forty six years old.”

“No way too old,” he said.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I’m twenty three,” he said. “I’m working my way through college.”

“Well, you aren’t going to get a student discount,” I laughed. “In fact, I’d probably charge you extra.”

“You got a deal,” he grinned and nodded at my breasts. “I’d pay a lot to get my hands on those beauties.”

“My client ties me up and tortures me,” I said. “Would you want to do that or just pay to simply screw me?”

“I’d want to torture you.”

His trousers poked forward with an impressive erection.

For a minute I was tempted. I was really tempted! He was young and handsome and virile, and I wondered what he would do to me.

“Sorry,” I said.  “It might be fun, but I’m under an exclusive contract. If I let you screw me my client would punish me.”

“You poor thing,” he grinned. “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

He patted my bottom as I walked away. It felt good.

I would never betray JR or risk ruining our relationship, but I was flattered by the clerk’s offer. I did fantasize about the young man and wondered if there was any way to manipulate JR into selling me to him for an afternoon. In the end I decided not to try, JR is no fool and would see what I was up to. And it occurred to me that if I told JR I’d like to be loaned out he might give me to a woman, just to teach me a lesson, so I limited myself to teasing the clerk.

One afternoon as I arrived at the motel I saw him sitting outside the office reading a book.  I parked close to him and took my time getting out of my car. I opened my legs and made sure that he got a good long look at my panties. He grinned in delight and nodded his gratitude.

The next time I arrived he was waiting outside so I drove past the motel and stopped around the corner. I pulled my skirt up to my waist and slipped my panties off. The clerk looked up as I drove into the lot. I opened the car door, turned toward him and opened my legs. I gave him a long look at my pussy then stood up, tugged my skirt down and gave him a big smile.

(That little stunt almost backfired on me when I forgot that my panties were in my car. I allowed one of my sons to drive the car and remembered the panties just before he got in. I ran out and asked him to check the windshield fluid. While he was under the hood I reached in and grabbed my panties.)   

The motel clerk and I play a little game every Saturday. He usually manages to be outside the office when I arrive and I let him get a peek at my pussy. One after noon as I was leaving he walked me to my car and held the door for me. He stared blatantly at my legs as I sat down. He leaned over me and chatted while I opened my legs and let him look all he wanted.

I also perfected my ‘slut strut’. I practiced walking with my boobs thrust out and an exaggerated swing to my hips. The motel clerk actually applauded the first time he saw me walking that way. A couple was leaving a room and they stopped and stared at me. The woman’s mouth dropped open in pure indignation but her husband grinned from ear to ear. When I got to the door I did a pirouette, shook my boobs at the clerk and went inside. I looked out the window and saw the woman giving her husband pure hell for grinning at me. The clerk was leaning against the wall helpless with laughter.

Once when I arrived he held up a camera and raised his eyebrows questioningly. I decided to let him take my picture but I held up a warning finger then covered my face with my hands. I opened my door, spread my legs and let him take several pictures. I appreciated the fact that he was gentleman enough not to take my picture without asking my permission. At the end of the day I left my bra off and when the clerk walked me to my car I unbuttoned my blouse and let him look at my boobs. He grew daring and reached in and squeezed a nipple. I giggled, slapped his hand and drove away. I waited until I was in my own neighborhood before I buttoned my blouse.

The clerk always repeats his request to purchase a few hours of my time and has offered some generous amounts of money. I have been greatly tempted, not by the money, but just to see what another master would do to me in bondage. So far I’ve managed to resist, but he is awfully handsome. 

Sometimes I fantasize about the young clerk watching me on a hidden camera while JR tortures me.

(Did I mention that slavery tends to remove all inhibitions?)

                                       

My kids are grown now. Two boys are in the military. One flies jets off an aircraft carrier and the other commands a company of Marines and I’m very proud of them. My other son and my daughter are married and have six children between them so guess what? I’m a grandmother.

I love being a grandmother, I take the kids to the park, the zoo, to soccer practice, and do all the things that grandmothers do, and some things that most grandmothers probably don’t do, (I don’t suppose many other grandmothers wear slave brands or get tied up and whipped on a regular basis, or wear pussy chains under their clothing) but I could be mistaken.

JR and I discussed living together and decided that the old saying about the best lovers making lousy spouses might hold true in our case. We didn’t want to make our relationship humdrum or ordinary.

I’m still his slave and we get together for bondage three or four times a week. Sometimes he tortures me and other times he keeps me bound for long times. I love being tortured but I’ve also grown to enjoy extended periods of bondage.

Once we decided to explore how long I could endure being tied up. JR cocooned me in rope and didn’t release me for six hours. The only reason he untied me was that I had to go to the bath room so bad that I thought I would die.

We tried another time and he kept me tied up for twenty four hours. We agreed that I would get a ten minute potty break every four hours and he used simple bindings which were easy to remove. JR fed me and gave me fluids through a straw and gave me my breaks, but otherwise I simply lay in my ropes in a quiet bedroom from noon Friday until noon Saturday. It was heavenly.

I was stiff and sore when JR untied me, but as soon as I was free I grabbed him, tore his clothes off and threw him on the bed.

We’ve done that several times and I’ve been pestering him to tie me up for forty eight hours. So far he’s refused but I’m starting to wear him down. 

We’ve tried other forms of bondage, but I don’t care for handcuffs or metal shackles, they feel too impersonal, and leather restraint cuffs aren’t tight enough to suit me, so we stick to rope. I’ve tried self bondage but its just not the same, but I did tie myself to my bed one day when JR was coming over. He let himself in with his key and found me naked on my bed. I was hot as hell when he walked in and he proceeded to screw me half silly, but JR enjoys the act of tying me so I wait and let him play with the ropes.

After all these years I am still very proud of my brand. I love to look at it and most of the time I walk around my townhouse in the nude. (Many visitors have commented on my unique style of decor which includes a lot of mirrors.) I keep my pussy hairless so that my brand is visible.

Sometimes I shave my pussy but I prefer to have JR remove my pubic hair with wax and a whip. (A suggestion for all you ladies who use waxing as a depilatory method: get a handsome man to tie you a bed and wax your pussy).

I shop at the sex store and every time I go in the clerk propositions me. Its almost a standing joke between us, except that she is serious. I get a wicked delight in teasing her.

I went back and bought a heavy leather corset. It is very restrictive and makes me feel submissive. It looks very sexy on me, especially when I add stockings and heels. The clerk insisted on taking plenty of time fitting it to me.

“All kidding aside,” she said. “A corset should be fitted properly and that takes time.”

“Sure it does,” I laughed. “Go ahead.”

We went into the fitting room.

“You really should be naked,” she said.

“Ok, but I’m keeping my panties on.”

She watched as I undressed. I held my arms over my head as she laced me into the corset.

“The best way to do this is to tie your arms to a beam.” she said.

“What, and have you take advantage of me?” I laughed. It was fun teasing her, and I have to confess that I was getting turned on. I began to wonder what it would be like to let her dominate me. After all, JR would never know.

I came close that day, very close. The clerk took liberties as she fitted the corset, her fingers slipped over my breasts and a few times she tweaked my nipples. I liked it and began to wonder if I had hidden lesbian tendencies. I shuddered when she caressed my bottom, and for a moment considered allowing her to tie my wrists, but I was strong and didn’t give in to temptation.

Finally she was satisfied that the corset was right.

“Do you want to take it off or wear it home?” she asked.

“I’ll wear it.”

“Look, I’d really like to ask a favor,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked warily. “I’m not going to let you tie me up.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’d really like to see your brand.”

I’d told her about the brand years earlier and she had not forgotten.

She had a look of pure hunger in her eyes. I was sorry for her but very excited too. This woman wanted me more than any man ever had. That’s when I came closest to submitting to her.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll let you look but you can’t touch.”

She nodded

“You may pull my panties down,”

She dropped to her knees and slipped my panties down to my ankles. She gasped when she saw the brand. She stared for a moment, then slowly leaned forward, as if she was going to kiss my belly. I almost let her, but got hold of myself and stepped back.

“That’s enough,” I said. “Now go outside while I get dressed.”

I put my clothes on but left my panties off. As I was paying for the corset the clerk let out a gasp. She was staring at my purse and made the connection to my brand.

“Oh, do you like that?” I asked innocently.

“Its incredible!” she gasped. “That is the most fantastic thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I had the purse custom made,” I said. “It matches my pussy perfectly, see?”

I raised my skirt and held my purse next to my pussy. Right there in public, with people walking past the windows! I thought the poor woman’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.

I held my skirt up for a minute, then let it fall, took my panties out of my purse and handed them to her.

JR bought a punishment bra for me and I had a delightful afternoon letting the clerk measure me. I teased her cruelly and by the end of my visit to the store she was begging to have sex with me. It was even more fun when the bra came in and I went to the store to pick it up. I stripped naked  to let her fit me into the bra. She couldn’t keep her eyes off my brand and offered anything I wanted to permit her to kiss my pussy right then and there. I was amazed at the power I had over that woman. Her lust for me was almost frightening. I pretended to consider her offer and told her that if I was to have sex with her she might have to submit to domination from me. I was kidding, the idea of tying someone up had never occurred to me, but she dropped to her knees and told me that I could do anything I wanted to her. I frightened myself by almost agreeing. On the way home I thought about dominating that woman. I wondered what it might be like to hurt her, to cause erotic pain, then let her put her tongue on me. I was squirming in my seat by the time I got home.

I like my punishment bra and later went back and ordered a torture bra. I love wearing it but can only do so once every few months because the spikes cut and scratch my skin and I don’t want my breasts to be scarred. JR wouldn’t like that so I must let the scratches heal before I wear it again.

So far I haven’t had sex with the woman from the sex shop. I discussed it with JR and he told me that I was free to do anything I want. He was sincere and not the least bit jealous. Sometimes I think about taking her up on her offer but I can’t make up my mind if I want to dominate her or to submit.

(Years later when I discovered that my friend Mary Moore is a sex slave, she told me that she knows the woman at the shop and has submitted to her many times. Mary is openly bi sexual and tells me that at least once in my life I ought to give myself a ‘night out with the girls’ in a dungeon full of lesbians. Maybe, maybe, maybe.) 

Besides bondage JR and I also get together for normal occasions. I cook for him or he takes me to dinner. We go dancing and to concerts and I always wear my pussy chain under my dress.

We also take vacations together, although after the first trip we had to agree on some ground rules.

We went to the Caribbean and stayed in a five star hotel on St. Kitts. JR wanted to enjoy the beach and see the sights and I just wanted to be tied up. He finally threw a fit and told me that he hadn’t paid a lot of money just so I could stay tied to the bed in our room. I pouted, but concede that he had a point, so I got dressed and we went out.

I discovered another erotic pleasure that evening. I wore a short tropical dress and no panties, and while walking along the beach a gust of wind flipped my skirt up. I became very excited and hoped that another gust might let some stranger get a peek at my brand. After that I became quite daring and I often forget to sit in a proper ladylike fashion. JR says that getting branded turned me into an exhibitionist.

“I’m not an exhibitionist,” I said. “I’m not showing off my body, I’m showing off my brand.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m proud of my brand, not my body.”

“Does it turn you on when they look?” he asked.

“Yes, very much.”

“Then I’d say you’re an exhibitionist.”

“No, because if I was I would want men to look at my pussy instead of the brand.”

“Trust me, they are not interested in looking at your brand,” he said.

“Perhaps not,” I said. “But that’s what I want to show off. You  see . . umpf.” He stuffed a gag in my mouth and turned on the television.

Perhaps he’s right, maybe I really am an exhibitionist, but I only allow myself to be that naughty when we are thousands of miles from home. (Most of the time that is, sometimes I can’t help myself and get naughty in Denver too.)

We reached an agreement that while on vacation I would only be tied up after nine at night.

I introduced JR to my family and my kids like him, in fact, my daughter approves of him so much that she told me that if I ever get remarried I ought to marry him. Perhaps someday, but for now I’m content the way things are.

JR and I have been together for sixteen years and I love him more today than when we first met, and I am so proud to be his woman and to wear his brand.

                                       End

Author’s note:

I wrote this on behalf of a friend. The names have been changed but the woman in this story actually lives in Denver. We had known each other for many years before discovering that we were both lovers of bondage. It came about when I bumped into her at the bondage store. She was embarrassed but I convinced her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, after all, I was shopping there too. I invited her home and over several glasses of wine we talked about bondage. My friend had never been able to confide in anyone about her secret life so when she found that I was a kindred spirit, her story just poured out.

I urged her to explore other aspects of slavery, including submission to a woman, if only once to satisfy her curiosity. I told her about some of my bondage experiences and gave her one of my stories to read. I also suggested that she write her story.

She doesn’t feel that she has the writing skills and begged me to write it for her. She repeated the story, dictating into a tape recorder and with me taking notes. Her story is so fantastically erotic that at first I thought she was making it up, , ,  that is, until she showed me her brand.

By the way, , , her purses really do match her brand.

Mary Elizabeth Moore (aka Shackleford Bond)