My Custom Made Leather Accessories

My Custom Made Leather Accessories         

                                                                                       CH 8

       I never mentioned my visit to the spa to JR, but I’d really enjoyed showing myself off and I wanted to do it more often. I wouldn’t be able to have my pubic hair removed at a spa because that was JR’s job, but after teasing two straight women, I decided to try that again. Since I couldn’t go back to the spa I joined an exercise club.

I’d belonged to one years earlier and never gave much thought to undressing in the locker room. There had been two women who were obvious lesbians and another who was an exhibitionist. They had paraded around naked with no modesty at all obviously enjoying themselves. One of the more blatant lesbians had made her way through the group getting friendly with each woman in turn, chatting idly but always edging closer and closer until finally making sexual advances. I don’t think that she was successful in seducing any of the women, and the only thing that came of her efforts was to get her talked about. She had even hit on me, which at the time I found utterly repulsive. (My how things have changed!) I didn’t plan to seduce anyone but I did intend for people to see naked and to see my brand, and I wanted to be talked about it.

Even as a girl I had been shy, and when I developed my shyness increased. My large breasts, even at thirteen, drew stares and comments from both boys and girls at school. I always turned to the wall when I undressed, in school and at the exercise club, but now I was going to show off everything I had.

       The first day at the club I stripped naked and took my time getting into my exercise clothes but no one seemed to pay much attention. I worked out for an hour then undressed and took a long hot shower. Another woman walked in but didn’t seem to notice my brand. She caught me looking at her body and turned her back. I was mildly embarrassed, but excited too. I didn’t look toward her any more that day.

I started going to the club several days a week and displayed myself pretty blatantly. I didn’t attract much attention until I signed up for a water aerobics class. There were a dozen women in the class and we all arrived and left at the same time, so there were plenty of people to show off to. 

Most of the women were modest and wrapped a towel around their bodies to and from the shower but I walked around entirely nude. I continued to undress openly which attracted a few mildly raised eyebrows, but no one said anything. I was polite to everyone but didn’t open any conversations. I’d let them make the opening. I never wore panties and was the only woman with a hairless pussy. I even considered wearing my pussy chain but decided that would be too much. Eventually I caught a woman named Sally glancing toward my pussy more and more often. I pretended not to notice and toweled my hair vigorously, which covered my face and gave her an opportunity for a long look. I slowly turned until I was facing her but kept the towel over my head. When I lowered the towel she quickly looked away. I took my time getting dressed and she seemed to spend a lot of time doing her makeup. She finished just as I was ready to leave. As we walked out she struck up a conversation in the parking lot. We chatted inconsequentially then went our way. The same thing happened the next class day and she began talking to me every day. Finally after a week she brought up the subject.

       “I am very embarrassed to ask this,” she said blushing, “But I’ve noticed that you have an odd scar on your tummy.”

       “Yes?” I asked blandly.

       “At first I thought it might be a tattoo,” she said, “But it. . .”

       “It isn’t a tattoo,” I said just looking at her, “But it isn’t natural either.”

       The confusion in her face was obvious. Finally I relented.

       “It’s a brand,” I told her.

       “A brand?”

       “A brand. Like a cow.”

“Why on earth . . ?” she gasped.

“I’m a sex slave and my master’s initials are branded on my tummy.”

Her jaw dropped and she had trouble getting her breath.

“What for?” she finally managed.

“To show that he owns me,” I smiled, “And to prove my devotion to him.”

Her mouth worked like a fish. Her face was beet red and she couldn’t look me in the eye. I waited for her to say something more, but she turned and walked quickly to her car.

       Within a few days more of the ladies were looking my way. They tried to be discreet but I noticed the looks that passed between them. I knew that they had been talking about me. That made my pussy tingle, and one day I stood facing the room as I dried my hair. As with Sally, when I lowered it they were all looking at me. They quickly averted their eyes and I smiled to myself. After getting dressed I walked out with Sally who blushed every time our eyes met. We didn’t mention my brand but she was very nervous. I knew that she was dying to talk about my brand, but I waited for her to bring up the subject. And I wondered if she would ever make a pass at me. And if she did, I wasn’t at all certain that I would refuse.

       I showed JR the Dolcett drawings. He had reservations. He liked the bondage but he was definitely not interested in the horrid tortures that were inflicted on the women. He sat me down and lectured me on going overboard with dangerous fantasies. He was very serious and warned me that if I ever tried to act out one of those acts that involved my death then we would be through. He told me right up front that I could forget any ideas I might have about being hanged or impaled on a spit or being cooked alive. I agreed about the hanging (we’d already experimented with that and neither of us liked it) and regarding impalement, while having a gigantic penis thrust through my pussy and out of my mouth sounded quite erotic, I didn’t want to die in the process. But being roasted was another matter.

       JR was serious and his attitude sobered me up and I dropped the matter for a while. We talked about it a few weeks later and I went to great lengths to convince him that I was more interested in the bondage than getting killed. He relented somewhat and we spent an evening looking over the pictures.

       JR liked the bondage and tied me up and made wonderful love to me, but the next day when the delightful buzzing between my legs finally died down I decided that I would like to be cooked.

       I began to give serious thought to getting him to cook me. Oh, not enough to kill me, just to make it scary and erotic. I would have to find a way to get him to heat me up over a flame.

       

I continued to walk around the spa locker room in the nude. Once I had their attention I decided not to be too obvious. I became more discreet but everyone still looked and I pretended not to notice. Sally was still very nervous, but she kept coming to the class. Finally she just couldn’t stand it any more and invited me to coffee.

       “I know this isn’t any of my business,” she said embarrassed, “But I must admit that I am intrigued by what you said.”

       “What was that?” I asked.

       “You told me that you were a sex slave.”

       “Ah yes, that I am.”

       “And a man branded you?”

       “Yes.”

       She looked utterly confused. “Did he force you to be branded?”

       I sipped my coffee and looked at her for a long moment. “No, it was my idea.”

       “Oh my God!”        

       “You see, I am a very kinky woman,” I told her. “Very perverse and I like being dominated and tortured.”

       “”You can’t be serious!” she gasped.

       “Oh yes I am.”

       “But, , ,”

       “I’m a masochist and the more intensely things are done to me, the more I like it.”

       “What kind of things?” she whispered.

       “Oh, come on now Sally, we aren’t children. Surely you’ve let some man tie you to a bed at least once in your life,” I said.

She blushed furiously.

          “Ok,” I continued. “Haven’t you ever been put over some man’s knee and spanked?”

        “No, I’ve only had sex with my husband, and he would never do anything to hurt me.”

       “That’s too bad,” I said.

       “Why?”

       “Sometimes it fun to be hurt,” I told her.

       She stared like I was from another planet. “Have you always been that way?”

“No. I was married to a dull, boring man for almost twenty years,” I said. “I’d never done anything unusual until I met my master.”

       “What do you consider unusual?”

       “At the time I thought that sex with anyone else, outside of my own bedroom with the lights out was unusual. Now, there is very little that I don’t like.”

       “Including pain? Getting spanked?”

       “Especially pain,” I said. “Spanking is just a warm up. I prefer to be whipped.”

       Sally just managed not to spill coffee all over herself. “Whipped?” she whispered weakly.

“I can have an orgasm from being whipped,” I said, “Which is wonderful because my breasts used to be insensitive before I met my master.”

“He whips you on your breasts?” 

I nodded slowly.

“And they used to be insensitive?”

“They were,” I said. “But a few months of getting them whipped changed that entirely. Now they are very responsive.” I looked down at my chest proudly.

“Well, there is a lot to be responsive,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Tell me more about your, uh, , , master,” she asked.

       “Before I met him I’d never done anything kinky,” I said. “And I never dreamed of having an affair. Sex with my husband was tedious, but now I can’t get enough. It just takes the right man, and a few whips.”

       “My God!” she whispered. “What else?’

       “I learned how to have orgasms every time we have sex,” I said. “And I do men every time. And I got over my shyness.”

       “You were shy?”

       “Very shy until I learned that my body turns men on, even at my age and my weight.”

       “Men, do you have sex with more than your master?”

        “No, not really, but I do like to show off, and I get offers that I never ever expected to get.”

       “What about your husband?”

       “He’s a very weak man,” I said. “Even after I began my slavery with my master I stayed with him until our children grew up. Then I divorced him and I’ve been openly with my master ever since.”

“Openly? Who else knows about this?”

“My daughter found out, and I’ve told my best friend,” I answered. “And there are a few other people.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, there are some people who work at the sex shops where I buy things, and there is a photographer whom I’ve posed for.”

“A photographer?”

“Um hmm.”

Sally  was silent for a long time.

       “Were you branded after the divorce?”

       “No, that happened the first year of our relationship.”

       “Did your husband know about it?” she gasped. “Couldn’t he see it?”

       “No, we weren’t having much sex by then, and I didn’t allow him to see me naked until my hair grew back and covered the brand.”

       “Good heavens.”

       I leaned close. “I know it’s very wicked of me, but I have to tell you that it was very exciting lying in bed beside my husband with another man’s mark on my body.”

       “Do you have sex with other men?” she persisted.

       “No,” I said. “One young man in particular has been begging me for sex for years but I haven’t taken him up yet. And I’ve gotten other offers too.”

       “Yet?” she gasped.

       “I’ve been teasing him since the very beginning of my relationship with my master,” I giggled, “He is young and nice and I’m very tempted.”

       “Teasing him how?

       “I let him look up my skirt every time we meet. And I’ve posed naked for him.”        

       “Has he seen your brand?”

       “Of course, he’s taken pictures of it.”

       “Oh, yes, I see,” Sally was obviously having trouble digesting this. “Who is he?”

       “I know him at his place of business,” I answered, “Years ago he saw me in a very erotic situation and later propositioned me. He’s even offered me money.”

       “Money, weren’t you insulted?”

       “Just the opposite, I was flattered. And I couldn’t blame him for thinking that I was a prostitute because I was dressed like one for my master.”

       “He makes you dress like a prostitute?”

“No, but we were meeting at a motel and one day I decided to wear some very sluttish clothing. The photographer is a desk clerk and when I was leaving he very politely offered me money to have sex with him.”

“Did you accept the offer?”

“No, he’s about half my age, but its flattering to have a young man get an erection while he’s talking to me. I let him look up my skirt as I got into my car, and later allowed him to take pictures.”

“Up your skirt?”

Yes, and I wasn’t wearing panties either.”

“Oh, my God.”

I chuckled. “Eventually I permitted him to take photographs up my skirt, and in other revealing poses. Over the years he’s taken hundreds of pictures. And we’ve become friends.”

“But you’ve never had sex with him?”

“Not yet, but I’m tempted.”

       Sally sat speechless for a few minutes.                

       “Who else has seen you?” she asked.        

       “Oh, I’ve allowed men to peek up my skirt, and I still dress like a whore when we go to the motel.”

       She nodded

“I like to arrive early and I wait outside our room,” I continued.

“Dressed like a hooker,” she interjected.

“Acting like one too,” I agreed. “Now be honest, haven’t you ever wanted to do something wild like that, just once?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Anyway, I’ve been propositioned by men while waiting for my master. Its good for my ego.”

       “What else have you done?”

“I’ve gone to a restaurant dressed that way, and once when I was posing for my friend, a fellow walked in and saw me in a very compromising position.”

“How did he walk in? Where were you?”

“We were in the motel office and I was kneeling on the counter with my blouse open and my skirt up to my waist.”

“Good God!” she marveled, “What happened?”

“Nothing, I pulled my skirt down and walked away. It was embarrassing, but it was very erotic.”        

“What else?”

“Sometimes I wear a golden pussy chain in public,” I said. “And sometimes I attach little bells to it.”

Her coffee cup hit the floor with a clatter. I’ve never seen a woman blush so red.

       “You keep yourself shaved now,” she observed after several deep breaths.

       “I’ve kept my pubic hair removed ever since the divorce,” I paused, “But I don’t shave.”

       She looked at me curiously.

       “My master likes to remove my pubic hair himself.”

       Her jaw dropped.

       I leaned close and whispered. “He ties me to the bed then pours hot wax between my legs, when it hardens he peels it off.”

       “My God, that would hurt!” she gasped.

       “Yes, it does,” I smiled, “And I always have an orgasm when he does it.”

       “Is there any limit to your exhibitionism?” she asked.

       I shook my head. “I’ve worn skimpy dresses on vacation, with no underwear. In fact, I rarely wear panties at all now.”

       “I’ve noticed,” she said. What else?”

       “My master video taped my branding,” I said. “I’ve been considering releasing it on the internet.”

       “Are you going to?”

       “Probably not. I wouldn’t want my children to see it.”

       

During our conversation I kept my purse on the table with JR’s initials in full view. I didn’t think that Sally had seen my brand close enough to make the connection, but someday she would.

It took four months of pleading and nagging but I finally convinced JR to roast me. He is such a sweet man that he won’t refuse me very much.

JR’s house has thick hedges along the back and side fences of his yard and they had grown up high enough to screen anything we were doing from prying neighbor eyes. He tied me in his yard many times in many positions and being helpless and naked out of doors is wonderfully erotic. Our favorite is for him to tie me spread wide between stakes in the ground. After securing me JR might wander off and tinker in his workshop, or drag up a chair and read while I writhe slowly on the grass. We developed an unspoken contest to see how long he could resist, and how quickly I could entice him while bound. I’ve been tied down for hours. Having JR make love to me under the sun, especially when his neighbors were in their yards, was fantastic (we just had to be quiet). He also likes to put me on my knees near the fence and suck his penis while he chats with a neighbor through the hedges.

I went to his house on a Saturday and he stripped me naked the instant I was in the door. Then he tied my hands behind my back and walked me through the house to the back yard. I gasped with delight when I saw that he’d constructed a lovely bondage frame. It was a simple device really, just two tall posts standing upright seven feet apart. A wooden box rested between them and I was quite damp as he motioned for me to stand on it. He tied my wrists to rings high on the posts, then at his command I obediently jumped off the box. I squeaked slightly when the ropes tightened on my wrists, and that sweet familiar feeling warmed my pussy as my shoulders took my weight. I squirmed around for a few minutes, kicking my legs, opening and closing them, then trying to keep them apart long enough to interest him in screwing me, but no such luck. He tied my ankles to rings lower on the posts, tugged the ropes until I thought I would split in two, then he walked away. I was hot and wet instantly.

JR went into his workshop and I listened to the clatter of his tools and wondered what he was making. The day was lovely with bright sunshine and a soft breeze which cooled the lips of my very damp pussy. From time to time JR would emerge to bring me a drink of lemonade or to take a break and chat. I was thirsty but I spilled a lot of my drink because JR held the glass to my lips with one hand while the other did wonderful things between my legs. A neighbor heard us talking and called out a hello through the bushes. I answered and the man and I had a few minutes of idle chitchat while JR’s fingers slipped deeper into me. It was a real struggle for me to keep my voice normal. I finally rolled up my eyes and let go! I writhed and groaned and JR chuckled while he clamped his hand over my mouth. When I was back to normal he went back to work. Later the man’s wife came out and we talked as well.

I wondered if they could see me, perhaps through a thin spot in the shrubbery. I wished that they could. Then I began to daydream that like me, the woman next door was bound naked to something in their yard. Perhaps she was as horny and sexy feeling as I was and was waiting for her master to get around to screwing her.

Finally JR came out, stepped onto the box and blindfolded me. Then I heard him moving around the yard. He stood on the box and whispered in my ear.

“I’m going to remove your blindfold and I don’t want you to scream when you see what I’ve made.”

“Will I scream in terror or delight?” I asked.

“That’s up to you,” he said, “But knowing what a masochist you’ve become, it will probably be in delight.”

“Well, if I’ve turned into a masochist, it’s your fault,” I said.

“Oh no,” he snorted, “All I did was open the door.”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “And I love you for it.”

“Likewise.”

“Why don’t you gag me,” I suggested. “That way I can’t scream and alarm the neighbors.”

“All tight, I’ll go get one.”

“Oh, and while you’re at it, bring up some nipple clamps too,” I said.

“Anything else?” he asked wryly.

“Pussy clamps.”

“Pussy clamps?” he asked astonished.

“Yes, you know, for my pussy lips.”

I heard him walk away.

A few moments later I felt JR’s finger tap my chin, so I opened my mouth.

“Wider,” he said.

I did and he inserted the largest ball gag I’ve ever worn. Wow, was that thing huge! A good thing too, as it turned out, because a second later I felt a terrific pain in my nipple as he put a horrible, sharp, powerful, ruthless, unsympathetic, spring loaded alligator clamp on me. I tensed every muscle in my body as pain and delight flashed from my breast to my pussy, rebounded through my body and bounced right into my brain. I tried not to scream, but JR said that I did. Fortunately that horrid gag kept the neighbors from hearing. It took some time and I had just managed to return to planet Earth when JR put the other clamp on my left nipple. Thunder, lightning, hurricane force winds, cosmic super novae and ten thousand kittens stampeded through my vagina, all in about three minutes. JR later told me that the posts shook so hard that he thought that they might topple over. When the bells ringing in my ears and angels chorus finally died down I heard him:

“Ok,” he said softly, “After all that we’ll skip the pussy clamps.”

“Uh uh,” I growled under that gag.

“You must be kidding,” he said disbelievingly. “Do you really want me to put them on you?”

I thrust my pelvis forward in reply. 

I was a little woozy from the two previous orgasms, but when those teeth bit my labia, I simply lost my mind. I’ve read about out-of-body experiences that people who supposedly died on operating tables talk about, and I must have had something like that, because I swear that my soul left my body and hovered about ten feet away and watched as I convulsed between those posts. I clearly saw my own body thrashing in slow motion and in accelerated speed at the same time. I watched at the tops of the posts quivered with my thrashings. Then I blacked out.

       When I woke up I was lying on the ground and JR was kneeling over me bathing my face with a damp cloth.

       “Are you all right?” he asked with genuine concern.

       “Where am I?” I asked. “Who are you, and where is my royal palace?”

       His concern grew. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked. “Do you know what your name is?”

       “Of course I do. I’m the Queen of Babylon and this is the day that every officer in my Imperial army gets to come to the palace and fuck me.” I sat up and looked around. “Now where are they?”

       JR looked at me in astonishment. I lay back and opened my legs. “Well, if the army isn’t here, I suppose you will have to do, who ever you are.”

He yanked me to my feet. I threw my arms around his neck, wrapped my legs around his waist and hugged him tight.

       “I thought you’d actually lost your mind,” he told me grumpily.

“I did, for a few minutes,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it later; now either show me my new toy or go find my soldiers.”        

“Hmmpf, after scaring me like that I don’t know if you deserve it,” he grumped. “I ought to punish you.”

“Ok,” I said brightly, “I recommend a good, sound whipping.”

He gave up. He motioned toward the invention. I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming in delight. It was wonderful!

It was a roasting grate!

Oh, it wasn’t the kind that impaled me, it was simply a wooden grating mounted on a shaft. It rested about four feet above the ground between two sturdy A shaped frames. An electric motor was attached and the grating rotated slowly and silently in the sunlight.

My nipples were rock hard as I walked around it, running my hands over the wood. I couldn’t wait to be tied to it.

“Why wood?” I asked.

“Metal might get too hot and burn you,” he answered. “Hopefully the wood won’t do that.”

“Why not make it out of metal and put your initials all over it?” I suggested. “That way I could get branded every place that my body makes contact.”

He didn’t even bother to answer. He stopped the motor and gestured toward the grating. “Hop on.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I lay on my back atop the grate and JR strapped me down very tightly with leather belts. The grating was long enough that he could stretch my arms above my head and my legs were pulled tight to the other end. A belt went over my legs at my ankles, above and below my knees, at my waist and just under my breasts. Another across my brow secured my head. Even though JR had tied me up for many years, I was so excited that I was trembling. When he was satisfied that my straps were tight enough I begged him to tighten each one more notch.

“That’s going to uncomfortable,” he warned.

“I guess it’s a good thing that you turned me into a pain slave, isn’t it?”

He tightened each buckle TWO notches. I was in heaven.

When I was secured he turned the motor on. The grate began to turn slowly and silently, and I felt a wonderful flash of excitement when I reached the point where my breasts flopped off my chest to swing freely. I tried to look down at them but the band across my forehead prevented that. I had to be content with feeling their weight shift as I turned. When my body started to go upward I giggled with the sensation of my breasts rolling across my ribcage.

“Having fun already?” JR asked.

“Oooh, yes,” I sighed. “This is wonderful.”

“Ok then, have fun.” He walked away.

I rotated on the grate for at least three hours while he went inside and watched a football game on television.

Helpless, utterly helpless, and vulnerable and feminine and excited, but especially helpless. Excited, excited, EXCITED!

I watched the grass pass beneath my eyes, then I saw the trees, the sky, white fluffy clouds, brilliant sun that made me close my eyes for a moment, then the grass again. Over and over, and I was naked and helpless. (Did I ever mention that I like being helpless?)

Every time my breasts shifted I felt a tiny sweet thrill in my pussy.

“Well, the Buffaloes got beaten again,” JR announced. “How are you doing?”

“Hmmm?” I wasn’t really interested in football. I was concentrating on the throbbing between my legs and hoping that I might have an orgasm. I might have had one too if he hadn’t disturbed my train of thought. 

JR stopped the motor with me looking up at the sky. He bent close and looked into my eyes. We knew each other well enough by then to know what we were thinking. His hand slid down my body toward my pussy. I moaned in anticipation, and his fingers got closer and closer . . .  then they changed direction and caressed my inner thighs, first one side, then the other. I was trying to lift myself off the grate to meet him as his fingers circled closer and closer to the center of all existence. Then he pulled away. He grinned evilly and turned the motor back on.

“Let me know when you come,” he whispered gently, “And I’ll return and light the fire under you.”

I was glaring furiously at him but when he said that it was all I needed. My orgasm struck instantly. JR chuckled as he watched me writhe in my bonds. Then he blindfolded me.

I heard him puttering around, and listened to something heavy being dragged over the lawn, then the motor started up again, and I felt warmth on my skin!

The warmth increased until it was hot. I was face down by that time and the heat increased until it was decidedly uncomfortable, and very sexy. I was being cooked! The grate turned me upward and away from the heat. I still felt it on my back but it was much cooler, but as soon as my boobs rolled over my ribs I felt the heat increase again, and that’s when the next orgasm flashed through me. I didn’t drift off this time, I was too excited and I was shaking with fear and excitement. I knew that JR would never allow me to be harmed, but I also just couldn’t stop having a nagging little thought that he might cook me alive like the girls in Dolcett’s fantasies. The buzzing and tingling between my legs hadn’t eased off when I was face down again, and hot again.

With each rotation the heat grew until I was covered in perspiration. I wasn’t burning, not yet, but I was uncomfortable, and excited. I don’t know how long I turned but I was very, very hot in more ways than one.

JR finally shut off the motor. I heard him moving something, then he released my bonds. He helped me to my feet and took off my blindfold. I saw that the source of my heat was the electric barbecue.

“Wow,” I whispered. “That was fantastic!”

“How do you feel?” JR asked. 

“I feel wonderful, and very sexy.” I pressed my hot breasts against him. “Would you please take me to bed.”

“What? You don’t want to screw right here on the grating?”

“I’d love to, but it would be hard on your bony old knees.”

“Old knees?” he demanded. “What about on the grass then?”

I giggled, knelt and kissed his knees. Then I nuzzled the crotch of his trousers. I could feel his very firm cock beneath the material.

“Someday,” I answered. “But for now I think your bed will do nicely.” I undid his fly and out popped his cock. I took it into my mouth then backed up trying to pull him with me. He went along with my efforts for about ten feet, then he scooped me into his arms and ran up the stairs.

He dropped me on the bed and tore off his clothes. I lay back and made myself open for him, but JR isn’t a bondage master for nothing. He paused long enough to tie me to the bed. Once again his obsessive neatness about winding the ropes and tying perfect knots kicked in and I had to lie for the longest time until he was satisfied that I wasn’t going to escape, then he climbed on and in me.

After we made love JR kept me tied up and insisted that I drink lots of fluids as he rubbed soothing lotion into my skin. I wasn’t burnt, at least not badly but my skin was pink like from a sunburn and it was tender, and I had white cross marks where my back had rested on the grating.

“Hmm. It looks like you won’t be wearing any revealing clothing for a few days,” JR observed as he worked lotion between my breasts.

“Wanna bet?” I can’t wait to go out in a low cut top.” I said, wondering what the gals at the fitness club would think. “But around here I won’t be wearing any clothing at all.”

Rubbing the lotion over my body got him hot again, (I’d never cooled off) and we made love again. Afterwards JR filled the tub with warm water mixed with baby oil and bubble crystals and I took a long soak. It felt heavenly and I played with my pussy as I dozed. 

I asked JR to make some modifications to the spit. I told him what I wanted and he listened, shrugged and agreed to make them. He removed the wooden grate and replaced it with a thick wooden pole. He mounted a sort of flat saddle to the pole to which my body could be strapped. I didn’t sit on the saddle but rather I lay against it. We worked together on the design and made many sketches before we settled on the final design. The saddle was a slender elongated hourglass which supported my body lying face up or face down. Straps secured me to the saddle and the slender design allowed my breasts to hang loose on either side when I was face down. My wrists and ankles could be tied to the ends of the pole stretching me out or I could be placed into a frog-tie, or my arms and legs could wrap around the pole and be secured that way. It took JR about half an hour to make the saddle and attach it to the new pole, and I was so excited and impatient watching him that I couldn’t stand still. I was naked of course and I kept crowding so close that he got annoyed. He took me down to the basement and locked me into the jail cell. (That would have been all right if he’d tied me up or something, but all he did was lock me inside and go back to work.)

I was indignant, I wanted to be outside, and I wanted to watch, and I wanted him to be distracted by my nudity, but all I could do was sit in that lonely damned cell and wait. That is, until I decide to practice my naughty dance and pretend that there were people watching from the shadows. I was having a pretty good time gyrating when he came back. I was concentrating on my bump and grind and didn’t realize that he was there until the cell door flew open and I found myself flat on my back on the cot with JR on top of me. This time he didn’t even pause long enough to tie me up.

“I guess this means that you like my dancing?” I asked as he thrust himself fiercely into me.

When he had satisfied his lustful desires he strapped my arms tightly, hobbled my ankles and led me outside. He paused at the back door and warned me not to scream. I was still enjoying the pink afterglow and just shrugged helplessly. He knew that I probably wouldn’t be able to contain myself so he fetched that huge ball gag and buckled it in my mouth. Good thing he did, because when I saw the new spit I let out a yell of delight.

JR released my straps and ordered me to climb onto the saddle. I rested with my back against it and he put me into the long tie (as we called it) with my arms and legs straight and secured to heavy rings. He turned on the heater, switched on the motor and allowed me to rotate for about half an hour. It was wonderful! Then he retied my arms and legs into a frog tie with my wrists tied behind my neck and my knees wide apart. I liked that position because it opened my crotch delightfully. After about an hour of turning slowly, and getting quite hot, JR changed my position so that my ankles were crossed behind the pole, my arms were too, above my head. It’s a good thing that I’ve become so flexible, because I never could have reached that position before I became a slave. (Did I mention that it helps to be in shape if you enjoy bondage?) This opened my thighs very wide and made me feel fantastically vulnerable. I had a small orgasm the instant he finished tying me, and a long sweet one about ten minutes later as I rotated over the heat. After thirty minutes JR changed my position. He had had me lie face down. I positioned myself, arranged my breasts on either side and giggled as he strapped me in place. We tried the long tie again, and it was nice. I turned slowly for a while, then we tried a variation of the frog tie. By now it was getting dark and we were both hungry. JR pulled the grill away from me and cooked steaks while I stayed on the spit. The smell of the cooking meat sent me wild again. JR watched as I shuddered and writhed on the pole but I didn’t tell him that this orgasm was set off by the fantasy that I could smell my own body cooking.

The neighbor smelled the cooking meat and jokingly called out that he wouldn’t mind some steak. JR bantered with him but didn’t quite invite him over. I locked eyes with JR and he knew that I would love to have that man come and see me. He just shook his head.

“Have him bring his wife,” I whispered. “You can put her up here with me.”

“Do you want to be with another woman?” he asked.

I thought about it, then nodded. “I would if you might want to watch.”

“Have you ever had sex with a woman?” he asked.

“No.”

“Is that another fantasy that I can arrange for you?”

“My fantasy is to please you,” I answered. “I’d do anything with anyone if you wanted it.”

“No, I’m kind of greedy,” he said. “I want you all to myself.”

I could have cried with happiness. 

After we ate he tied me on the spit in another position. This time I hugged the spit wrapping my arms and legs around it, and boy was that erotic!

He put the grill under me and I felt the heat on my back instantly, and I loved it. JR tidied up the dishes while I turned over the fire. When he came back he turned off the motor and blindfolded me. Then he brought out a set of attachments that drove me wild. He cautioned me to be quiet and I felt the pole moving as he did worked.

“Ok, open your mouth,” he commanded. I obeyed and felt him raise my chin with his hand, then something long, hard and tubular entered between my teeth. (No, it wasn’t his penis, darn it - it was something else). The object pressed against my tongue and the back of my mouth, and would have made me uncomfortable if I hadn’t learned to overcome the gag reflex years ago. The thing, which I assumed was a dildo, was very secure and it prevented me from moving my head. I wondered what good it would do, but I decided to be patient and see what he had in mind. As if I had a choice.

I felt JR doing something at the other end of my body, and squealed in delight as something long, hard, and tubular slid inside my pussy. That was more like it!

The spit began to rotate and I thought that I was in heaven as I felt the changes in gravity on my body. That set off some new and exciting sensations as my weight shifted around the thing in my pussy. The dildo in my mouth made my neck uncomfortable, but, after all, I am a masochist.

JR allowed me to rotate for quite some time and I had another delightful orgasm. Then he removed my blindfold and let me ride for a few more minutes. He’d set up a video camera on its tripod and was filming me and he was taking still photos. I couldn’t turn my head because of the dildo in my mouth so I could only look straight ahead. And the dildo wasn’t a dildo, but a long wooden rod about two inches in diameter and it was so long that it went from the back of my mouth to the end of the spit. It was secured to the pole by a couple of clamps which held it parallel and above the spit a few inches. I began to tremble with excitement when it dawned on me what it represented.

The heater was on but I barely noticed its warmth as I marveled at the device JR had made for me. Finally after a couple of rolls of film, JR shut the motor off, released the clamps that held the rods in my body, and untied me. My legs almost gave way as I stood up.

I put my arms around his neck and kissed him long and sweetly, and then I asked to see the pictures. We went inside and he put the tape into the player and turned on the television. The instant I saw myself on the screen I collapsed into another orgasm. I felt like the Wicked Witch melting onto the floor when Dorothy threw water on her, only I melted into pure ecstasy.

I looked exactly like a girl being roasted in a Dolcett drawing! EXACTLY!

The rods in my mouth and pussy looked like a single long spit. It looked as if the thing penetrated my entire body. It was fantastic.

JR let me watch the video several times, then he turned the tv off and spoke very seriously. “This is a far as we will ever go in this fantasy,” he told me. “I’ll allow you to pretend that you’re being cooked, but I will control how much heat you receive and you are never to do this without me being present.”

He meant it. I lowered my eyes humbly and nodded.

“I am adamant,” he continued. “This could become very dangerous and if you ever disobey me it will be the end of our relationship.”

A terrible fear went through my tummy. “I will never, ever disobey you,” I whispered and crawled into his lap. “But may I be permitted to ask one more little thing?”

“What is it?” he asked warily.

“Could you rig up something to let hot candle wax to drip on my body as the heater cooks me?” 

 

He did.

JR invited me to his house a few nights later and we played out another roasting scenario and this time was even better than the first. The night was cool and a light misty rain was falling. JR made me undress in the house, then tied my wrists very tightly behind my back, put a collar on my neck and walked me outside. My nipples perked up the instant that I saw my roaster, as I called it. A large metal pan lay under it, and a long metal shelf was supported about fifteen inches above the spit. Holes had been drilled in the shelf and it was lined with short thick candles its entire length. I was hopping up and down with excitement and happy little squeaks were escaping my lips. JR was ready for that and he buckled another enormous gag into my mouth, then he fastened me to the spit. The candle shelf slid out of the way to allow me room to get on the spit.

Once again I was face down and the semi fake rods were inserted into my pussy and mouth, and JR returned the candle shelf to be above me. The shelf even had a little roof to keep the rain off the candles. My skin was getting cool from the mist and when he turned on my cooker (as I called the barbecue) the heat felt good. I whimpered pleadingly in my gag and JR knew exactly what I wanted. He turned up the heat. (In all the years that I have been his slave, JR and I have developed a deep understanding, and I think that we are telepathic now). He lit the candles and within a few minutes hot wax was dripping onto my body.

JR arranged the candles so that no wax landed on my face, but they dripped onto my body from my throat to my ankles. The cooker was getting hotter with a steady warmth but the tiny hot drops landing on my skin were wonderful! I was purring in my gag. JR set the motor so that I turned about three times a minute and I think I had my first orgasm within three rotations.

I was allowed to turn until the candles burnt out, then JR repositioned me with my face up. As he tied me to the saddle, I looked into his eyes and again, he knew what I wanted. He tightened my bonds excruciatingly, and I had another orgasm! The candles were replaced and relit, and the spit began to rotate and the wax dripped on me like a continuous water fall and I screamed as loudly as the gag would permit when another cosmic explosion roared through my belly and my soul. Even with the gag my scream must have carried because we heard the neighbors come onto the back porch.

“What was that?” I heard the wife ask.

“Sounded like a cat or something,” her husband answered.

“Or an overheated pussy,” JR whispered to me. I giggled.

After a moment we heard them go inside.

JR tried some variations on cooking me in wax. He slowed the motor and turned the heater down and allowed me to become coated with a thick layer of wax, then he turned the spit until I was face down and raised the heat of the cooker. I lay there watching in fascination as the wax melted and fell away from my body. It was particularly erotic watching the wax drip steadily from my nipples. When the wax was all gone I began to get very warm, and my breasts, being closer to the heat, got exceptionally hot. I was groaning with delight when JR turned the spit on and I was lifted away from the heat. I whimpered in disappointment, but changed my mind when the cool rain touched my overheated skin. I could actually see faints wisps of steam rising from my body.

“Hmm, that’s rather interesting,” JR commented. He touched my breasts and his hands were cool and I had an orgasm. “Now that’s very interesting,” he observed as the whole apparatus shook with my orgasm.

JR replaced the candles again and set the spit to turning, very slowly. The wax had time to harden on my skin on the up roll, and then melted off again on the downward roll. Some of the wax solidified then broke off when my breasts flopped down. For some reason I thought that was very sexy, and I loved the way my breasts warmed up when I faced down. On the fourth or fifth revolution, JR stopped me as I lay face up. I whimpered a question but he ignored me. I felt the rod slide out of my vagina, but it was immediately replaced by something else.

“What is that?” I wondered. “Oh well.” The spit began turning again and I enjoyed the cycle of ‘wax on – wax off’.

JR watched my crotch and I wondered again what he’d put inside me. We made eye contact and I raised my brows in an exaggerated question. He chuckled and walked into the house. He returned a moment late carrying a mirror. He held the mirror so that I could see my crotch and when I did I let out another scream. There was a large candle in my pussy and it was lit!

A burning candle was inside my body and I couldn’t control myself. Gag or no gag, I screamed and screamed!

JR bent over me and glared fiercely. He held his finger over his lips and warned me to be quiet. The neighbors were back on their porch wondering where that damned noisy cat was.

“I wonder if the poor thing is stuck up a tree,” the wife said, “Should we call the fire department?”

“Yes!” I screamed mentally. “Send several trucks full of big, handsome firemen to find me.”

I imagined the looks on the fire fighters’ faces when they saw me turning on the spit, then I imagined the look on JR’s face as the police took him away. Ok, no fire trucks after all.

“Well, it will get down when it’s ready to,” the man said.

“Are you sure?” she asked worriedly.

“I’ve never seen a dead cat up a tree,” he answered. They went inside.

JR dragged a lawn chair close and propped the mirror on it so that I could watch the candle in my pussy. I was fascinated. As I lay face up the flame of the candle burned upward, but as I turned onto my side the flame played toward the inside of my thigh. It didn’t quite reach my leg but I felt the heat, and that heated up my passion. I couldn’t see the candle while I was facing downward and waited impatiently for the spit to turn back up. JR sensed what I wanted and brought out another mirror and put it on the other side. I wondered how long it would take the candle to burn down and for the flame to reach the lips of my pussy. Wow! I closed my eyes and imagined fire inside my vagina. Hmmm, did I want to be scorched inside? Probably not, it might damage the nerves. I loved my pussy too much to have it deadened.

He didn’t permit me to be burned, at least not seriously. He snuffed the candle and removed it just before the flame seared my labia. I pouted under my gag, but squealed in delight when his fingers slid inside me and began to explore ways to send me on another trip to paradise.

It was quite dark when the last candle guttered out. JR allowed me to make a couple of more turns over the cooker so to melt the last of the wax off my body. Then he toweled my skin with a rough cloth getting rid of the last bits of candle. I tried to talk through the gag so he removed it.

“A whip,” I gasped, “Go get a whip, please.”

“Later,” he said. “I’ll whip you the next time we do this, but tonight I’ve been cooking you and now I’m going to eat you.”

It was a little awkward but he managed to get his mouth on my pussy. I began having an orgasm the instant his tongue slid inside me and I was still shuddering half an hour later when he carried me inside.

Later that night JR got hungry for a midnight snack so he ate me again.

Author’s note: 

After her first time of being cooked my friend called me very excitedly, to tell me about her experience. I dropped by her apartment and she undressed to show me the condition of her skin. From her neck down she was bright pink. She turned and pirouetted and giggled and was very proud of herself and her nipples were perked up excitedly. Mine responded under my clothing and it took all my will power not to touch her. (My friend is not the bisexual tramp that I am). She described the spit and the cooker in great detail and I was squirming in my seat by the time she finished. The next time JR went out of town she invited me to his house to ride on her roaster and I accepted immediately. JR keeps the spit in his garage and it’s too heavy for us to drag into the yard so we had to be content with riding the spit inside. It was wonderful. My friend and I took turns, and since I’m a terrible pain lover, I begged her to turn the heat as high as possible. She complied, but only for a few moments, she was afraid of harming me. When she was on the spit she looked so sexy and helpless that it was all I could do to keep my hands off of her.

- Mary Elizabeth Moore