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Chapter 2 The Promised Punishment
After my daily run and a quick lunch, I made my way down the stairs to the basement, and across the play room. That’s what I call the room with my chair, tv, a mattress, Cindy’s vanity and her house. It’s where we fuck. She is sometimes tortured there of course but most of that goes on in the punishment room. There’s plenty of fucking in the punishment room too. I can’t let myself be ruled by arbitrary designations; that’s for Cindy.
At her house I knocked on the door before opening the window. Moving to the front of her cell Cindy asked, in gag-speak,
“Who’s there?”
It’s a game we like to play. I answered,
“The master.”
“The master who?”
“The master of a stupid cunt who’s about to get some correction to her incompetent titties!”
I opened the door and Cindy rose, taking off her bra and putting it away. She only wears a bra in her house. I don’t want my view of those magnificent mounds obstructed unless she’s dressed up for a game we’re playing. I switched her ball gag for a smaller black one that I secured tightly in the back of her mouth. It’s harder for her to talk around but her screams come out loud and clear.
“Do you need to use the bathroom, bitch?”
She nodded her head and I walked her to the bathroom. I reminded her,
“Don’t dawdle.”
The only time she took too long in the bathroom I told her,
“You like spending time in the bathroom? Then you can live in a toilet.”
She didn’t know what that meant but at least she was smart enough to keep quiet. Back in those days she was given to unnecessary questions. I chuckled as I remembered how Cindy had hit her head on her ceiling, jumping up as I woke her in the middle of the night by pissing through her window.
When she was done we went into the punishment room and I instructed her to remove her hair tie and lie facing up on a table about three feet high. The solid wooden table is shaped like a T and has shackles for her limbs and even a padded head rest on a drawer that slides out from the end. I’m really too good to her sometimes. Shaking slightly, she laid down on the table and extended her arms along the top of the T where I secured her wrists and then moved down to lock her ankles in place.
Flat on her back as she was, her breasts were leaning out slightly in that lovely way that young, firm boobs do, fighting gravity. Walking to a drawer I picked out a pair of heavy duty nipple clamps. Each one was made of two dowels cut about an inch long. They are connected by two bolts; one at each end and wing nuts allow the dowels to be tightened together.
I started playing with Cindy’s tits, bouncing them gently then concentrating on her nipples. I circled and flicked them with my fingertips. I love sucking on them but I didn’t want them slippery. As her body responded to the stimulation of her nipples, I looked in to her eyes and asked her,
“You have such nice tits, slut, why don’t you use them correctly? Do you like having them punished? No matter, you’ll eventually learn not to be so careless. Just like you learned to use your filthy little asshole to please me. Remember all the spankings and strappings you made me give you before you started to squeeze me just right with that tight little shitter of yours?”
Even with the imminent punishment on her mind she still managed to blush when I spoke of her asshole in such vulgar terms. My poor slave has some serious mental hangups with her butt. Someday we’ll have a long, humiliating conversation about why that is, with some painful incentive to be open and honest.
I got back to the work at hand and affixed the clamps to Cindy’s erect nipples. I tightened them down until she moaned. Then I continued to tighten them. I twisted the wing nuts as hard as I could, causing her pink buds to swell outside the clamps. I attached wires to the bottom rungs of the clamps and threaded them through eyebolts in the ceiling directly above her nipples. Since the wires were attached at the bottom of the clamps, pulling them up caused the nipples to twist 90 degrees and point towards her head. I commented,
“It’s like they’re facing you. Probably wondering why you’re putting them through this.”
I pulled the wires shorter and her beautiful breasts pulled up into cones. Cindy arched her back to take some tension off but she wouldn’t be able to stay up for long. The tears had started along with some whiny moans. I told her,
“Shut up, slut. This is just the setup for your punishment.”
She looked frightened. I do love putting my girl in predicaments where she’s forced to hurt herself and she probably thought that pulling on her nipples by resting her back was my plan for her tit torture. There was more to come. This torture would be the most painful punishment for her breasts since I introduced her to the needles. That’s another happy memory.
Walking to the wall, I picked out the cane and went back to stand next to my sweet Cindy. Now she understood what she was in for and shook her head, pleading with her terror-filled eyes. There would be no reprieve. I lined up the cane with the upper slopes of her tits, about halfway between her chest and the stretched out nipples. I drew back and swung over her face, smacking her tits. My love rewarded me with a loud scream and I paused to enjoy it. I knew she could scream louder though and I would make that happen.
The first stroke had left a red welt that was soon joined by many more. Sometimes I make her count out loud but this time I left her gagged. She was so beautiful, crying and screaming. When I put the cane down next to her she managed to quiet down some. Her heavy breathing was causing her chest to heave and tug on her abused buds. I gently ran my hand through her soft hair and said to her,
“Hurting your tits is making me so hard, honey. Are you ready for more punishment or would you like to take a break and suck my cock?”
Through her crying and around the gag she tried to say,
“Suck your cock, master.”
“That’s my good girl.”
I took out the gag and slid the drawer with the headrest under the table. Cindy’s head was left hanging back, giving my dick a straight shot at her throat. I had asked her if she wanted to suck but I didn’t give her much opportunity for that. This was an all-out throat fucking, my balls slapping her face. I buried myself in her gullet and tugged on the wires. Her strangled screams vibrated through my member. It felt so good that I almost came. I wanted to save that for later so I pulled out of her mouth, replaced the ball gag and moved the headrest back into position.
It was time for the other half. With her nipples twisted up the way they were, the soft, tender undersides of her breasts were stretched more than the tops, making the skin there even more sensitive. Maybe I just want to believe this but I think Cindy screamed even harder as I thrashed the bottom of her soft bosom. I took delight in hitting her just where her tits met her ribcage. The crease that’s usually so well hidden was completely exposed and suffered many strokes.
I walked back to the wall. Cindy probably assumed I was going to hang up the cane but instead I came back to her and fitted a blindfold over her eyes. For this next part I needed her to be still and she would have flinched if she had seen what was coming.
When I brought the cane down across both of her painfully swollen nipples I thought she would explode. She thrashed wildly in her bonds which just jerked more on her tormented titties. I laughed at the useless display and waited for her to calm down. I only struck her nipples four more times. I was afraid they would actually burst from the pressure inside and the impact outside. By the last stroke, she wasn’t even screaming anymore, just moaning miserably.
“It’s over now, sweetheart.”
I put away the cane and blindfold, took down the wires and unshackled her. I even removed her gag. I know, I spoil her. I helped her sit up and told her to put the clamps back in the drawer. I love making her take off her own nipple clamps. She knows it will hurt as the fresh blood rushes in but she must do it.
After she returned the clamps to their drawer I put my arm around her. Her legs were unsteady and her pouty lower lip was sticking out as she hung her head. I comforted her,
“Who’s my good girl?”
“I’m your good girl, master.”
“Who is?”
“I am, sir.”
“You?”
I asked her as I pointed my index finger at my exhausted slave and poked her right on the nipple.
“Yes, sir.”
My fuck toy answered as she presented me with a few more tears. I held her and told her I loved her. She was so desperate that she would take reassurance from anywhere. Even from her cruel master who causes all of her suffering. She sobbed into my shoulder while I patted her. Looking down her back I could just see her little friend nestled between her ass cheeks. I smiled and thought of the new addition I was planning for her house. I hoped it would cause endless streams of tears to run down my sexy slave’s face.
Back in the play room I sat in my chair and Cindy waited for what she had to know was coming.
“Start slobbering on my cock so it will be wet enough to fuck your titties.”
She started blowing me, gagging and drooling. Shortly, I told her,
“Ok, hoist up those boobs and show me what you’ve learned.”
Wincing in pain, my slave gingerly lifted her tits and enveloped my cock in their warmth. She was so afraid of letting me slip out that she held her cane-marked bosom as tightly as she could in spite of the pain that was causing her. I let her use her tits on me for just a couple minutes. I didn’t really want to give her a chance to make a mistake, her breasts needed some recovery time. I let her stop by saying,
“Good job, my pet. See what you can learn with a little gentle guidance?”
“Yes, master. Thank you for teaching me, sir.”
It had taken countless lessons to teach her to properly express her gratitude like that. She had spent many evenings counting strokes up to 100 and thanking me for each and every one.
I led her to the mattress and pushed her down onto her back. I hadn’t used her pussy yet that day and I do so love that silky, soft hole. The saliva on my cock helped. My Cindy isn’t a pain slut who gets wet over a beating so I didn’t blame her for not being moist.
As I fucked my whore my eyes moved back and forth from her angelic, tear-stained face to her battered boobs. Beautiful .
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