Whatever You Want

Whatever You Want
By the White Knight
(Despite what the story claims this is a work of fiction, however it is much
more fun if you read it as if it were true.)

Numerous times in the past he has asked me to relate this event and just as many
times I have refused him.  Personally I don't think it is anyone else's
business, but so be it.  The reason he was so insistent that I write it, is that
one night I told the story to him as if he had not been there at all.  He didn't
say anything during my entire rendering of the event and the only way I knew he
was listening was that his breathing became more and more shallow (which was my
original intention... I was trying to get him in the "mood" after he had had a
hard day at the office).  When I was finished, actually after we were finished,
he told me I had to write this story.  Well he has finally gotten his way... So
here goes.

                        Whatever You Want...

It was one of those rare days when everything just falls into place.  We had
left the kids with my mother in-law for the afternoon and she called to say that
they were having such a good time why not just let them sleep over for the night
and pick them up in the morning.  This meant that we had the house to ourselves
for the entire afternoon and evening!  Smiling like mischievous teenagers we ran
up to our bedroom, stripped as fast as we could and got down to business.  It
may have been a quickie, but it had also been a goodie!

As we lay resting in each other's arms, I asked my husband, "What would you like
to do for the rest of our day?"  He responded, "Oh I have a few very definite
ideas.... as long as you're willing?"  He ended the remark with a question in
his voice.  He's a good man and I realized right away he was asking for some
kinky sex time, but at the same time leaving me an out if I didn't feel like it. 
I flicked my long curly hair over my shoulder and gave him my best Cheshire cat
smile, "Darling whatever you want is just fine with me".  His blue eyes
glittered with desire and lust; he kissed me full on the lips and started to
dress.  "Andrea", he said." If I were you I'd take a little nap for a while,
because I know you are going to need all of your energy soon.  While you do that
I am going to go prepare a little fantasy fest".  Down the stairs he went,
leaving me to my own devices.  I took the time to shower and dry my long curly
hair. Then I did as suggested and laid down to rest.

About half an hour later, he returned.  He was dressed very stylishly, all in
dark colors. He wore a black blazer, a dark charcoal gray shirt and black
pleated pants.  Looking over at me expressionlessly he did not say anything for
what seemed like a long time.  "Is this how you great your master, slave girl?",
he finally asked.  His voice was hard and strong and I knew he was deep into his
role.  I quickly leapt out of the bed and scurried to kneel on the floor before
his feet.  Naked as a jaybird I knelt there, with my knees together and my butt
resting on my heels.  My hands were demurely folded on my knees and my eyes were
fixed on the floor in front of his feet.  "That is much better, my darling
slave", he said softly.  At the same time, he reached down and cupped my chin
with his right hand.  He gently raised my head so that I was looking up at him
and the sealed envelope he waved in his left hand.  "You will take this envelope
and do exactly what the instructions inside tell you to do.  Nothing more and
nothing less.  Do you understand?", he asked.  "Yes, master", I responded taking
the envelope and lowering my eyes once again.  Without another word he turned
and left.    

I could not wait to open up my instructions to see what he had in store for "his
slave".  But first I had to stand up.  Heck, that hard wood floor is tough on
the knees.  I closed the door to the bedroom and opened the envelope.  Inside
was a laser printed listing of the outfit, in detail; he wanted me to wear for
the next part of our encounter.  There was however, no mention of what was to
occur during this encounter.

Opening the bottom door of my dresser, I removed the black and red ribbed
corset.  Placing the soft silky satin around my body I snapped the hooks in the
front together.  There were laces in the back, which would need to be tightened
further, but the fit even now, was a snug one.  This does not mean that I am
heavy or out of shape, just that this garment was exactly what its name
implied... a corset.  Truthfully, as I looked in the mirror over my dresser, I
felt pretty proud of my figure.  No I am not Cindy Crawford, but after three
children and 30 years, I was still sporting a 36, 25, 37 figure.  I wouldn't
mind being a little taller, as I am only 5 foot 4, but I was happy with my
weight at about 125.  Cupping my breasts I re-seated them in there half-cup
satin settings.  A dark half moon from each nipple showed over the thick red
satin.  The cups were actually designed to work like a push up bra and they did
there job admirably, showing off quite a bit of my cleavage.  Next I slid on a
pair of black silk panties.  They were not the original satin g-string type
panties that had come with the corset, but were equally if not more,
interesting, as they were crotch less.  Actually, if I kept my legs together you
wouldn't be able to tell that they were crotch less, but then again I don't
think my husband / master was planning on keeping my legs together tonight.

From the top draw, I removed red stockings.  I expertly rolled one and slid it
over my arched foot and up my calf, gently unraveling the nylon hose until it
reached its limits at mid thigh.  I did the same to my left leg and then
attached the six garters of the corset to the tops of the stockings.  These were
composed of a three-inch band of lace with little black ribbons circling each
top.  I turned and backed up towards the door, so that I could make sure that my
seems were straight in the full-length mirror.  I smoothed and straightened the
stocking and seems at the same time by bending full over and grasping my left
ankle, then using my skilled hands I gently and caressingly followed the silky
smooth nylon path up my calf and over the knee and finally to my thigh.  I
finished this process on the other leg. Although I was very happy with the way
the stockings looked, I still frowned at the mirror.

Going to the closet I retrieved the next item on the list, spiked heel black
patent leather pumps.  I slid my foot down the pumps steeply arched sole and
shimmied my toes into their tight pointed confines.  The second shoe followed
quickly. Then I tottered back to the mirror.  I turned and looked over my
shoulder so I could see myself from the rear.  This time I smiled at the sight. 
High heels may be one of the most uncomfortable forms of footwear known to
woman, but there is nothing like them for making a short woman's legs look
longer and shapelier.

My heels now rested a full five inches off the floor.  This, as I alluded
before, made my legs appear much longer.  The muscles in my calves were flexed
perfectly, rounding out the proper curves of my legs.  Black five-inch spike
heels flowed into the red roadway of my seamed stockings, forming a V aimed
right at the center of things.  Jeez I was getting hot just imagining what my
husband / master would be thinking when he saw me in this costume!  I took a
deep breath and turned back to the list.

From the back of my dresser draw, hidden from prying eyes, I took out an old
fashioned black choker, complete with an ivory cameo.  I placed it about my
throat and buttoned the three fastenings tightly behind my neck.  Looking in the
mirror and fingering the cameo, I remembered seeing it in an antique shop and
saying to my husband, "Isn't this a wonderful choker".  He smiled at me and
said, "With the appropriate modifications it will be".  My fingers drifted down
to the shinning brass D ring below the cameo.  Yes, I had made those changes
myself.  I am quite good with a needle and thread and I had added the three
small brass D rings so skillfully that they looked like they had always been
there.  This formed a very beautiful and effective collar.  I began to get
hot... horny even, for my husband / master.  He could easily have requested that
I wear that four-inch thick heavy leather collar that he was so fond of (that
thing rubs the bottom of your chin raw, forcing you to always keep your head
up), but no he had selected this choker.

A narrow box in the same draw provided me with above the elbow black satin
gloves.  I had this type of glove in black, red and white, but he had stipulated
in the instructions black.  I placed these on the dresser, knowing that I
couldn't apply my makeup with them on.  The instructions had even outlined this
process, although not in as much detail as my garments.  Just that he wanted me
to wear full make up, eye shadow, mascara, blush and flame red lipstick.  This
color isn't the best for my Irish white skin tones, but it did match very
closely with my corset. Besides he is the master and his wish is my command.

I finished this process and slid on my gloves.  Following the next command, I
donned a black floor length rap from one of my peignoir sets, I suppose, to
shield myself from unwanted eyes.  This made sense, as I did have to pass a
number of windows prior to entering my masters' sanctum (the living room) that I
had been instructed to do upon completion of dressing.

As a last precaution I walked back and forth across the bedroom floor practicing
walking in my sky-high heels.  Walking in spike heels, properly, is an art. 
Unfortunately for me it was one I had grown unaccustomed to, as I hardly ever
wore even three-inch heels anymore.  Generally I wear flat soled or low-heeled
shoes or sneakers to keep up with the needs of our family.  So back and forth I
went, the wooden floor resounding with the click of my heels.  Setting the heel
down just slightly before the toe was the lesson to be remembered.  I wobbled a
bit, but then remembered to keep my toes pointed straight ahead and not fall
into the trap of splaying them outward like a duck. As I gained confidence I
even worked a little at putting a pleasant sway into my hips.  I smiled to
myself.

Feeling as ready as I would ever be, I opened the door and proceeded down the
stairs to the living room.  The opaque French doors that opened into that room
were closed.  Taped to one of the doors was a manila envelope.  I opened it and
read the small white card that was enclosed, "Put this on.  Knock on the door."
was all it said.  I took the black satin night mask (blindfold) from the
envelope and slid it into place over my eyes.  The elastic strap buried itself
into my curly auburn locks, tightening the black material over my eyes.  I
knocked as instructed and felt the double doors before me open.

 I felt my master fingering the center "D" ring on my choker.  Then I heard a
metal snap and could feel the slight weight of a leash.  I knew that leash well,
as it used to belong to a toy poodle that we no longer owned and now had found a
new way to be useful.  He tugged lightly on my tether, leading me into the room. 
He walked me around the room in a circle.  He was probably watching every move
that I made, making me happy that I had taken the extra time to work with my
heels.  As I got used to walking blindfolded, I began to exaggerate the sway of
my hips.  I could feel my translucent black rap rub my milky smooth hips as I
moved.  That sound that everyone knows of material rubbing against material
filled the air, even over powering the soft classical music playing in the
background.

As if reading my mind my master stopped me, with both a firm hand and a slight
jerk on the leash.  He removed the black gauzy rap as if he were taking a fine
mink from a lady, gently yet firmly.  Again he led me in a circle about the
room, the leash always maintained just that little bit of pull without being
overly uncomfortable.  Finally he stopped in the center of the room and I could
feel the leash fall loosely to my side.  Until he spoke I could not tell where
he had gone or what he was doing as the floor was covered with wall-to-wall
carpet.  When he spoke I knew he was standing a short distance in front of me,
maybe six or eight feet.

"You will do everything I command of you of you slave, is this correct?" he
asked.  "Yes, master", I answered quickly, but slowed my speech and added a
sultry tinge to my voice.  "I will carry out your each and every request and it
will please me to do so".  He paused a minute before responding with a rye
sarcastic tone to his voice, "We will have to see about that slave".  He
continued in a more informative voice, "I will not tell you what I have planned
for the remainder of this day, but if you have any questions ask them now".  I
thought for a moment and said, "I know not to use your real name in this
encounter master, but is there any other name you wish me to refer to you as. 
Or have you another name you would like me to respond to?"  When we role-play we
sometimes take on different names and or personalities.  I truthfully was hoping
that his response would give me a general idea of what I was in for tonight.
       
"You may refer to me as either master or Fellows" he spoke softly and firmly. 
"And I will refer to you as either slave or Lady Andrea".  My heart fluttered
and my stomach dropped.  He had only role-played "Fellows" once before and that
was the most grueling and difficult bondage encounter I had ever had.  After
that experience, I had to ask whom this "Fellows" person was that he had
created.  He told me that
Fellows was a mythical English Butler, who traveled through out Victorian
England meeting out severe punishments, to naughty wives and unruly daughters. 
Hesitantly I asked, "What am I charged with?"  I could feel his eyes burning
through my blindfold, as he responded, "Inadequate performance of your wifely
duties".  Whew, this was going to be a rough one.  Maybe not as bad as the time
before, when I had been accused of infidelity, but I knew that using Victorian
England standards this charge was only slightly less severe.
       
I lowered my head to acknowledge my servitude.  I knew that only exact
compliance would earn me any type of reprieve from the harshness of the events
that were about to unfold.  "What would you have me do master?", I asked
demurely.  "First we will have to make sure that you are adequately able to
follow orders", he said softly.  "As of course a proper wife should."
       
"Spread you legs and bend over at your middle, resting you hands on your knees",
he commanded.  I did as instructed, quickly but as gracefully as possible.  I
knew that I was in a perfect position for a paddling, but I was confused because
his voice was still coming from in front of me.  I stayed in that position
waiting.  I felt, rather than heard, him move next to my side.  I soon knew what
he had in mind as I felt the straps on my corset begin to tighten.  I was so
concerned with everything else that was going on that I forgot that those laces
had not been properly fastened.  I could feel his progress as he worked his way
down from the top with the first set of those damning cords.  Tighter and
tighter the straps were drawn.  Halfway thought this process, he stopped and
gave me a couple of minutes to get used to the tightness. 

Resuming, he continued his ministrations.  A final mighty yank, while using one
hand to hold my back down, signified the completion of his work.  "Ooooohhhhh",
I exclaimed unintentionally, as the air was pushed from my lungs.  The corset
was so tight that I was sure that my breasts were going to pop out from the
pressure!  I felt his hands encircling my waist, as he checked his work.  "Ah",
he said. "Your waist has been reduced to a mere 22 inches and you accepted your
lot quietly and serenely.  I can safely say that this was a perfect
administration of the classic corset."  I smiled and relaxed a little this was
high praise indeed from him and so early into the encounter...  Oh, oh what is
he covering up, I wondered.

Again I could feel him walking around toward the front of me.  I heard him sit
down.  Probably in one of the wing backed chairs that looked so much like mini
thrones.  "Remove your gloves", he said.  I did so quickly, dropping them on the
ground before me.  "Now, my dear I would like you to put your hands between your
legs and finger yourself."  I did not move right away, but realizing my mistake
I began to slowly move my hands towards my vagina.  The other shoe, as they say,
had fallen.  Generally, as you may have guessed, I will do just about anything. 
My unconditional exceptions were any type of group sex, animals or
exhibitionism.  There are certain things, however, that I really abhor and
playing with myself was on the top of my list.
       
Gritting my teeth, I pushed my fingers between the smooth silky fabrics and
began to softly stroke my clit.  I wasn't penetrating myself.  I was only
rubbing the balls of my fingers over my mound.  Even so, the atmosphere was so
sexually charged that I couldn't help but feel the heat build between my legs. 
I could feel my face relax and heard a small moan escape my lips.  In the back
of my mind I sort of registered the fact that somehow, being blindfolded, was
actually making this easier for me.  "Please put you fingers into your lower
region and play with your G-spot", Fellows commanded.  I had forgotten that he
was sitting right in front of me, which gave him a perfect view of my upwardly
thrust cleavage and the hands between my legs.  My fingers slid easily into the
now wet entrance to my vagina.  It was an easy chore to find that little flap of
skin inside of me that was the so-called G-spot or sweet spot.  I began use my
digits to play with it and soon I started to feel warmer all over.  My breathing
was becoming ragged; do to my excitement level and partially the tightness of my
corset.  "Oooowwww.   Ooooowww.   Ooooowww", I moaned deeply.  I started
flicking my fingers more and more quickly over my sweet spot.  "Oooohhhhh...
OOOOOHHHH....  OOOOOHHHHH", I moaned louder and louder and louder as I came
closer and closer to climax.

"Stop completely, right NOW", Fellows said loud enough to be heard though my
moaning.   "Nnnnnoooooo", I shrieked without thinking.  "What did you say
slave?", he said so quietly and menacingly that I almost missed it. 
Immediately, I realized what I had done.  I stopped all movement and gushed, "I
am sorry master.  Forgive your poor slaves stupidity.  I beg for your
forgiveness master."   The silence was laden with menace, even the classical
music playing seemed more like a dirge than the normal light selection.  "You
are not forgiven, but I will hold you punishment in abeyance, until the end of
this evening.  If you can manage to get through the rest of the day without
another slip up, perhaps... perhaps I will let this indiscretion slide."

"Now take your hands out of your pussy and lick off all your own juices", my
master commanded.  This was another of my least favorite things.  As far as I
was concerned male cum, while being thicker and saltier was much preferable to
its more acidic female counterpart.

To make up for my earlier gaff, however, I quickly brought my hands up to my
face and began to lick them clean.  As I finished licking off each digit, I put
that finger full into my mouth and swirled my tongue about it.  Then I pulled it
out with an exaggerated sucking motion, all of the time working hard to make
those slurping, sucking and licking sounds that accompany a blowjob.  I knew
that this was particularly pleasing to my husband / master, so I really played
it up.  I finished with a last loud lick and let my hands return to my knees.

"Very, good slave Andrea", my master informed me.  "Now return to a straight
standing posture."  I did as instructed, not as gracefully as I would have liked
as I swayed a little due to my high spiked heels.  I regained my balance as I
brought my legs back together and folded my hands demurely over one another
below waist level.  I could feel the leash hanging in front of me as its gentle
swinging motion touched the back of my hands.  "Take the your leash and use it
to whip your butt and thighs", he commanded me.  The leash was made of white
leather about three quarters of an inch wide.  It wasn't very long, but it was a
least five feet or so, which when I grasped it from waist level gave me plenty
strap to use in my self-flagellation.  I could not of course see, but through
feel and my own imagining of the picture of where the leash / whip should land;
I landed a perfect first shot.  The double slap of the leather loop handle could
be heard loudly as it burned into the split of my cheeks. "Eeeewww", I gasped,
as I surprised myself with the intensity of my own stroke.  I swung again.  I
could feel the leather wrap around my upper thigh just before the explosive
crack of the lash as it slammed into my rear end.

I am not an expert on whippings.  In fact this was one of the few times that it
had been used in one of our encounters.  Therefore I had never taken the time to
think on what a perfect lash that this leash would make.  If the loop of the
handle hit just right, it was like getting hit twice at the same time, hence the
double crack.  While not very wide it was still made of heavy thick leather and
was therefore quite effective.
      
Crack.  The lash landed again.  This time on my right, the far, buttocks.  Every
time the whip landed I sucked in breath, which made an elongated hissing sound.
"Hiiiisssssss", then Crack.  I could feel myself tensing my buttocks each time
and I could feel the heat on my cheeks building.  I had been swinging
methodically, but not quickly.  Giving the lash a little more or less length
each time so the pain would switch from cheek to cheek.  I was sure that my firm
cheeks, under my tight black silk panties were probably no longer white, but
pink!

I had lost count of how many times I had smacked myself when finally my master
said, "You may stop now".  I let out a long sigh and let the leash hang loosely
from my hand.  I could feel him walk around me; he moved the black material off
of one cheek at a time as he inspected my work.  "Very good", he informed me. 
"I see by these bright red weal's on your posterior that you have not been
slacking".

"Spread your legs slave", he commanded.  I did so spacing them about eighteen
inches part.  "Further", he said.  Emphasizing his point with the slap of his
powerful hand to the inside of one of my legs.  I opened my legs as much as I
could without falling off of my heels, so my feet were probably spaced a little
over two feet apart.  I felt his hands gently caress my ass cheeks, then move
down to my vagina.  Unfortunately, he did not dally there.  He merely pushed the
silken material away from my mound so it was entirely uncovered.  Again I felt
him walk past me and heard him sit down on the chair before me.

"Whip your sex", he said simply.  This time I balked.  Never had I been whipped
there.  I had seen it done in a couple of the very few S&M videos, which I had,
let my husband / master talk me into watching.  In none of those scenes had the
women enjoyed this treatment, in fact it had looked down right painful. 
"Please, master can you be more specific", I asked pleadingly.  He knew I was
looking for a reprieve, but this time it did not come.

"Choke up on your leash and slap the handle very quickly against your sex", he
expounded.  I continued to balk, but to cover this I said, "I truly don't
understand how you wish me to whip myself, master Fellows.  Please explain
further."  I knew my master was getting upset, so I continued, "I will do what
you command, but I truly do not understand".

"Hold the leash at the beginning of the looped handle", he instructed as calmly
as he could.  I moved my right hand as instructed.  "Waggle the handle upward
and downward", he continued.  I did so and I could feel the six-inch long double
loop of leather go in the proper directions.  "Use both hands to make it
quicker", he finished.  I did so and quickened my pace.  "Very good", he said
softly.  "Now whip your sex".
       
I reversed my grip on the leash handle, so that now it was pointing back towards
me.  Slowly I lowered the lash into position, feeling my way down my left thigh
and between my legs with the stiff leather handle.  I flinched as my search
finally found its mark as the whip just barely touched my lower lips.  I knew
now that I had the proper range and positioning.  I lowered the handle downward
and began slowly waggling it.  I gathered all of my resolve and quickened my
pace to match that which I had reached before.  I could feel the breeze of the
briskly moving whip on my exposed mound.  Despite the fact that my satin mask
blinded me, I still gripped my eyes tightly closed.  I could feel myself tensing
every muscle that I could as I slowly, deliberately moved the quickly flicking
leather upwards.  Finally not being able to take the pressure of the waiting
anymore, I jerked my hands upward.  The first crack of the leather onto my
unprotected sex, sounded like a rifle shoot.  At first, I guess because of the
shock, I didn't feel anything.  Then I did feel it!  A loud pained,
"OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW", escaped my lips.  My whole body jerked upwards from the
blow.  Somehow I managed to continue the quick motion, slamming the stiff
leather up against my tender lips again and again and again.  I found myself
precariously balanced in the toes of my shoes only.  The pain had literally
blasted me out of the heels of my shoes, as my body coursed upwards trying
vainly to escape the punishment that I was inflicting upon myself.  In a far off
way I could sense my precarious situation and knew that my ballet training as a
youth was the only thing keeping me still on my feet.

"OOOOOoooooWWWWWWwwwwww", I continued to wail louder and longer.  The pain was
so intense that I had lost all sense of what was going on, I couldn't even think
enough to stop myself from continuing to lash my poor abused sex.  After what
seemed an eternity, I felt a strong hand push down my wildly out of control
appendages.  "You may stop now", said my master in a quavering voice.  Even he
seemed to have been effected by my performance.

As my senses returned I dropped the leash from exhausted shaking hands.  My body
all of a sudden went limp.  I would have fallen to the floor in a heap if my
master had not scooped me up in strong arms.  I moaned softly as I buried my
head in his chest.  My husband / master sat down as he soothed me like a small
child.  Running his fingers through my hair and saying those soft comforting
words that we use on our children when they have been hurt.  I am not sure how
long we remained like that.  All of a sudden I realized that I had almost fallen
asleep as I felt my husband / master surge upwards out of the chair with me in
his arms.

He carried me a short ways and deposited me on a table like surface.  I could
easily determine that he had laid me down on the dinning room table, because the
classical music was louder (the stereo is in the dinning room) and because we
had not gone far enough to be in the kitchen.  I was in a sitting position on
the table, with my hands on either side of me.  I could feel that the white
cotton tablecloth was in place, but I could also feel that a thin mattress had
been added beneath the material.  Curiosity made me push down on the mattress
and allowed me to deduct that it was one of the foam egg crate type palettes,
which we used for overflow guests.

"I think you are in need of a well deserved rest Lady Andrea", my master
informed me.  He placed black satin gloves in my hands adding, "Please put these
back on".  I did so. "Now, if you would be so kind as to roll over on your
stomach, I will make you comfortable in my own personalized way".  I could feel
his hands guide me into a lying down position in the center of the table.  He
then pulled each of my hands behind my back.  I felt a double loop of rope
encircle my satin-sheathed wrists.  The rope, probably our standard white nylon
type, was wrapped around my wrists another couple of times and then passed
between my hands, tightening the ropes so that they pressed the fabric of my
gloves hard into my soft flesh.  I wiggled my hands slightly, proving that I was
both securely bound and that my circulation had not been cut off.

Next a similar double loop was applied to my legs, just above the knees.  More
rope was wrapped around them as they were pulled inexorably drawn together.  He
had to force up though my legs to complete his figure eight this time, but he
did so with ease.  I knew that this particular place on my body was especially
pleasing to my master.  He has told me numerous times that he loves to see the
contrast in colors as the white rope covers the red stockings.  Also above the
knee and around the thigh are thicker and sturdier parts of the leg, allowing
him to really tighten the ropes so that the loops dig deeply into my smooth
supple flesh.
       
Raising my ankles off the table, so that my legs were bent at the knee,
perpendicular to the table, he began to work on my ankles then something changed
his mind.  His hands fingered my black pumps.  They had become loose on my feet,
without my weight to keep my foot arched into the high heels; the heels were
nearly ready to pop off of my feet.  I was not in anyway trying to dislodge
them, despite their discomfort, but my feet were finding it hard to maintain the
necessary arch.

"Hmmmm", my master intoned.  "These shoes do not seem to want to stay in place. 
I suppose that I could bind them in place with some cords, but you are supposed
to be resting...Hmmmmm".  He left his thought unfinished.  I heard the doors
open and close as he left the room.  I did not try to escape or change my
position in anyway though, because I knew that he might be testing me.  He may
not have even left the room, but only made it sound that way.
      
He returned shortly, with an opening and closing of doors.  I felt him remove my
patent leather heels and heard them placed on the table.  Soon I felt soft
supple leather being slid onto and around my feet.  He pulled the leather
slipper down over my heel and ran his hands over it to make sure that it was
securely in place.  I wiggled my toes in pleasure.  Judging by my outfit colors
I could bet that these were my black leather slippers.  They were flat soled,
soft and yummy with a little bow at the mouth of the slipper.  The second
slipper was slid into place and I gave a little smile.  My master finished off
his work on my ankles, with more of the nylon rope surrounding my red-sheathed
gams.

My master is a master of rope work and very meticulous about making his ties
neat, effective and as he has told me many times, pleasing to the eye.  I knew,
without seeing them that his ties would represent figure eight's.  Four to six
cords surrounding the appendages to be bound and two strands pulling their
brethren tightly together to form the center of the eight.  Always with the
final tie being made out of sight, so that only the taped wrapped ends of the
nylon rope showed.

Lifting my middle off the table, I felt him add an cinch rope to my waist.  With
a little effort he threaded the ends of the rope between my upper thighs and
then slid it under the rope in the middle of my back.  As he tugged on the rope,
I could feel the twin strands dig into my abused lower mouth.  Grasping my legs
at the ankles my master guided them back towards my rear end.  Using the
remainder of the rope he lashed my ankles to the crotch rope.  When he released
the pressure that he had applied while holding my ankles in place, the real
trial started.  My ankles pulled away from my butt of their own accord.  I could
feel the waist rope on my back pulled downward as the ropes across my sex
tightened.  "Oh, damn" I swore softly.

He wasn't finished with me yet though, as I felt him bind my wrist and ankles
together.  This position, for the uninitiated, is called a hog-tie. 
Unexpectedly I felt my wrists and ankles being raised towards the ceiling.  He
must have put a rope through the chain links that held up the chandelier.  He
stopped just when I could start to feel the strain in my shoulders.  It was not
painful just a touch uncomfortable.  What it meant though was that my so-called
rest time wouldn't exactly be restful.  I couldn't even roll onto my side, which
was my first plan when I realized I was being hog-tied.  Now I would be forced
to remain in this position, which despite the foam mattress meant that my
breasts were being mashed into the table.  This compounded with the ropes
digging into my sex, the strain on my shoulder blades and the tightness of my
red satin corset, made it less than easy to breathe.
      
"Aaahhhh, good", my master said lightly.  "I can see that you are now ready for
your rest."  Lifting my head he slid a small pillow under my chin.  I turned my
head side ways to take advantage of the cushion.  He paused for a minute as if
looking over my predicament, then continued, "Are you comfortable enough, for
your rest period my dear?"

I could have been a good little slave girl and said demurely, "Yes, master". 
But I had been thinking about just how uncomfortable I was and I just couldn't
keep my big mouth shut.  "Ohhhh, yes master", I said in a voice dripping with
sarcasm, "I am just sooooo comfortable".
       
He didn't say a word to my outburst.  The next thing I felt was him roughly
squeezing the sides of my mouth and forcing it open.  Hard rounded rubber was
being pushed against my teeth.  My mouth was forced open further and further as
more pressure was applied until finally the large rubber ball popped behind my
teeth.  The gag was roughly buckled into place at the back of my neck.  "I had
been saving this little goodie for later in the evening", my master informed me
harshly.  "But, I can see that its therapeutic value is needed now.  Please
enjoy your rest."  With that my master turned my head, so that I was again lying
with the side of my face on the pillow, and then departed.

This was the biggest ball gag in our collection.  I knew that my bright red lips
would be stretched to their widest extent around the large orange ball.  I could
feel the leather strap biting deeply into the corners of my mouth.  It wasn't
really necessary to bind the strap this tightly, because nothing except a strong
pull was going to get that ball out from behind my teeth.  But, I knew I
deserved the added punishment.
       
I lay there with nothing to do but think.  I wasn't going to be able to nod off
in this hog-tied suspension position.  Especially not with the damning gag! The
hog-tie, the corset, the bonds and even the crotch rope were all merely
uncomfortable, but a ball gag that big is simply painful.  My jaw was already
aching and I had only had it in place for only a few minutes.  I worked to shift
my thoughts elsewhere.

Countless things went through my mind, but time and again I kept coming back to
my pussy whipping.  (I don't like using that term, but it seems appropriate
here.)  It was impossible not to think about that area of my body because with
every little shift of my muscles, the ropes in my crotch would roughly rub this
tender area.  There was something that happened back there that had never
happened before.  The unbelievable pain had pushed me to a state beyond the
normal; it was if I was on a drugged high.  Maybe it was an adrenaline rush, I
don't know.  But I had felt as if I were out of my body.  Like I was two
separate entities.  One half of me was whipping myself mechanically, in it's
beyond pain state and the other half was experiencing the amazing pain of each
lash of the stiff leather.

I know what pain is.  I have born three children, all of them naturally, and
there is nothing that compares to that type of unceasing intense pain.  This
however was different.  This pain, in some strange way had made me feel... good. 
I have never taken drugs, but I would suppose that this is how someone on
cocaine would feel.  Jesus, Mary and Joseph what have I done to myself?  (Yes, I
do believe in God, very much.  No, I do not have any conflicts with bondage, S&M
and God.  I feel that as long as our marriage is monogamous, then anything that
transpires between wife and husband is entirely up to us.)   Heck, I hardly even
drink and here I have found myself, unbelievably affected by a different kind of
drug...  pain.

I had always approached bondage and S&M as a role to be played.  Something
outside of myself.  It wasn't what I wanted per say, I participated by being
someone other than me.  I had never done or even thought of doing anything like
this prior to my marriage, but I have always liked sex and have a strong desire
to please my partner.  My husband / master led me into his world during our
engagement and my final year in college.  He is five years my senior and very
persuasive.  A look through a couple of "Love Bondage" magazines and a long talk
got me to agree to role-play the submissive female.  Now, though, I had to
wonder; had I gone past role-playing?  Was it really me that wanted to be the
subjugated and punished submissive?

My musings were interrupted as the French door opened and closed, once again. 
As he came closer to me, I thought that I could smell the fresh smell of soap
emanating from him.  Yes, that and a soft cologne.  He must have taken a shower. 
A cold one I'll bet, I smirked to myself.  I would have smiled, but the ball gag
refused my unconscious attempt.

My master put his hands upon me.  Sliding them caressing over my black and red
satin of my corset.  They traveled up and down my sides, bending inward at the
imposed reduction in my waist size.  The tight smooth satin conveyed his touch
to me as if it were directly on my skin.   He slid his hands under my breasts,
cupping them with his warm hands.  He rubbed and gently squeezed my mounds,
making me squirm a little in delight.  The thumb and forefinger of each hand
began to twirl the tips of my nipples, sending burst of warm excitement coursing
through my body.  "Uuuummm", I moaned happily around my gag.

Shortly his hands moved away.  I next felt him rubbing my thighs and legs.  His
hands ran over my stocking clad legs and ankles, paying particular attention to
the ropes surrounding them.  His hands caressed the areas where the rope and leg
meet, over and over again.  The soft touches made my heart pound and began to
make me happy that the bindings were there.  As he played with my ankles, I
moaned again in pleasure, and wiggled my feet happily.  My feet and my fingers
were about the only thing that I could move.  I continued to flex my red
stocking clad feet in the soft supple black leather to convey my happiness. 
What a sight I must have made. Lying hog-tied on a table with large orange ball
gag in my mouth must have made me look like a suckling pig with the apple in its
mouth waiting to be eaten.

His hands played their tune up and down my out stretched arms.  Playing with the
ropes at my wrist and then gliding down my shinny black gloves until his hands
rested on my strained shoulder blades.  He softly rubbed the abused blades and
my shoulders in general.

"UUUUuuuuueeeeewwww", I moaned.  It felt so good!  This coupled with the fact
that all of these movements of mine were adding to my stimulation as the ropes
sliding across my vagina added their own caress.  His fingers lingered over the
laces of my corset, pushing slightly against one and pulling slightly at
another.  His hands slid upwards until they reached my neck, which he gently
rubbed with his strong firm digits.  I could feel him working with the buckle of
my gag and felt the pull of the leather straps at the corner of my mouth
slacken.   He inserted his fingers into the corners of my mouth and around the
ball.  With a slow and steady pulling motion he began to pull the ball outwards. 
I had once stood in front of a mirror and practiced putting this ball gag in and
taking it out, and I knew at this point that all of my pearly white teeth were
showing.  Finally the ball surged outward from behind my teeth.  I worked my jaw
a bit, trying to relieve the cramps that had formed there.   He softly massaged
the sides of my face, with my aching cheeks and jaw receiving extra attention.

Then I felt something else rubbing up against the sides of my cheeks.  Something
warm and firm.  I next felt a drop of warm liquid touch my cheek.  Now I
realized that this was his manhood rubbing up against my face and that was his
pre-cum moisturizing my face.  He continued to rub my face with his rod as it
hardened and lengthened.

"I believe that you know what is required of you Lady Andrea", my master
informed me.  "Please begin".  I was to give him a blowjob, yet I could hardly
move my head.  In the position I was in I had to accept that my master would
handle all of the movements.  While this let me relax and let him come (no pun
intended) to me, I also realized that I would have absolutely no control.  He
would be the only one with control over how deep and quickly he would invade my
mouth and throat!

He started by holding my head upright, with my chin resting on the pillow. 
Blackness continued to enfold me due to the blindfold, but I could tell that he
had turned sideways to offer me the length of his cock to lick.  I did so with
gusto, licking my way from his pubic hair up to the cap of his hardened penis. 
He moved my head from side to side, like he was using an old style typewriter. 
I on the other hand, felt like I was gumming an ear of corn.  I added little
nips now and again in between my tongue bath.

I could feel his penis shift direction to the front of me, and then felt him
again begin to thrust his manhood back and forth against my cheeks.  He
alternated from cheek to cheek and I did my best to catch him with my wildly
lapping tongue as he passed my mouth.  Soon though I could feel him pushing
directly towards my mouth.  Pursing my lips I gave his hard cap a noisy kiss. 
He pressed relentlessly forward, pushing my lips aside.  He stopped when he had
about two inches in my warm mouth and began short backward and forward strokes. 
I alternated between swirling my tongue around his pole and sucking it. I swear
that I could taste the lipstick that I must have left on his rods head on the
outward part of his strokes.

Gradually he began to invade me with more and more of his raging hard on.  This
forced me into a purely sucking roll as he was now going beyond the base of my
tongue.  His thickness was spreading my lips just like the ball gag had and I
could just imagine the sight of my fiery red lips traveling up and down his
pole.  His strokes became quicker and deeper.  A couple of times his manhood
jumped upwards of its own pre-cum volition, banging against the roof of my
mouth.  I took deep breaths and fought off the urge to choke when he began to
hit the back of my throat.  He now had me doing full deep throats.  On each
inward stroke my nose was being mashed into his bristly pubic hair.  With each
outward stroke, when only two inches or so remained in my mouth, I swirled my
tongue about his head.

I began to feel his rod jerking uncontrollably on his downward stroke and knew
that this meant he was very close to cumming.  I tried to pull my head back so
that I would receive his load in my mouth or better yet on my face.  My master
had other plans.  He pulled my head towards him and thrust himself forward,
achieving maximum penetration.  At almost that exact instant he exploded against
the back of my throat.  I gagged a little at first, but then calmed myself down.
The flow of hot liquid coming from him seemed to go on forever, again and again
I swallowed and swallowed to keep it from leaking out of my mouth.  I was forced
to accepted shot after burning shot of cum, as it splattered against the back of
my throat and seemed to flow right into my stomach.

Slowly he released his death like grip on my head and again began slower more
measured strokes.  This allowed me to clean all of the residual creamy cum off
of his emptied organ.  He eventually pulled out and I gave his penis head
another quick kiss as it left.  A few moments of quiet passed.  I once again
realized that the CD was playing soft classical music in the background.

I felt my master begin to loosen my bonds.  First the rope to the ceiling was
released letting my tired arms fall down against my back. Then the cords on my
crotch were untied from my ankles and quickly afterwards the rest of my bonds
were removed.  My master helped me back up into a sitting position as I rubbed
my aching wrists.  They were not rope burned, due to the protection of the satin
gloves, but they did throb all the same.  Next he guided me off of the table and
onto my feet.  I swayed slightly; probably do to my continued disorientation
provided by my blindfold.  My slippers allowed me to adjust my balance quickly,
though.  He must have removed the leash at some point, because instead of using
it to lead me through the room, he gently held my arm and guided me to the
doors.

"Go upstairs and refresh yourself, my dear lady", my husband / master said
softly.  Take a shower and then dress as instructed by the envelope I have left
on your bureau.  You will then return down here for dinner".  While he was
talking, I could feel him working on the laces on my corset.  Soon I felt the
vice like pressure ease up.  Moving my hands upward to my head, I intended to
remove the satin night mask.  "NO", Fellows said forcefully.  "Do not remove
your blindfold until you have passed out of my sanctum".  He then opened the
doors and guided me over the threshold.

When I heard the doors close behind me, I removed my blindfold.  I blinked as
the waning light of late afternoon filtered into the house.  That made me
realize that there were windows in the area.  My quickly adjusting eyes focused
on the gauzy black rap, which had been placed across the banister.  I briskly
donned it and began my trek up the stairs.  This was not as easy as it sounds,
because my lower lips were still swollen and sore.  Each time I had to stretch
to reach the next step was extremely uncomfortable.  I made it, in due course
and removed my garments in order to enjoy a long hot shower.

I emerged feeling refreshed and actually a little invigorated.  I had rubbed
soothing aloe lotion, into my water glistening vagina and over my bruised
buttocks.  Then I used more of the cream to moisturize the rough spots caused by
the rope bonds.  The lines that the tight rope always leaves on my skin had even
faded a little.  Not to mention I was starting to really feel hungry.  Returning
to my bedroom I opened the waiting envelope.

This time it was to be a royal blue bustier, matching crotch less lace panties,
powder blue stockings, white frilly finger gloves and white patent leather high
heels.  Except for the heels these garments were all purchased as a matched set,
so it wasn't too hard to bring it all together.

I dressed much the same as before.  The bustier was ribbed and provided three
sets of hooks, for each fastening at the back, so that you could make it
literally skin tight.  I was proud that only at the very top and bottom did I
have to use the second set of hooks; otherwise I was using the tightest hooks in
every case.  This was one of those garments that didn't leave much to the
imagination.  It was mainly made of a transparent nylon mesh, which was
highlighted by the heavy blue ribs and the lacy floral design built into the
mesh.  The cups that held my breasts were once again basically a half-cup bra
that pushed and shaped my heavy mounds.

As you may have guessed these were brought on purpose, by my husband / master
and myself.  Despite the fact that I did aerobics for thirty to forty-five
minutes a day, after three children and all of the milk I have carried.... Well
gravity had finally won its battle.  I had talked to him about breast implants
and he was definitely amenable, but coming up with the five or six grand was an
entirely different matter.  Therefore, push up type bra's were my best
alternative.   Besides if the bustier fit properly, as this one most definitely
did, it did a wonderful job of making my breasts look as firm as those of a
young girl.

I slid into the light blue stockings and arranged the seams.  I re-applied my
make-up using more blues this time, to match with my outfit. The lipstick this
time was of a darker shade, as it was not stipulated exactly what color to wear. 
I put on the listed triple strand pearl choker and matching earrings.  This
choker was merely ornamental, but it did give the illusion of being a high
priced slaves collar.

From my closet I removed the white patent leather pumps.  I sat down on the bed
to put these on, as they were not your normal pumps.  They also sported a five
inch spiked heel, but these included a variety of straps that needed to be
buckled in place.  Two thin straps crossed over the arch of the foot and were
joined by a T-strap coming straight up from the mouth of the shoe.  The heel
included a leather extension, which terminated in two more thin white straps
that were closed with two miniature gold buckles.  My master had told me, when I
purchased these shoes, that these were true slave shoes as the straps always
reminded the woman of her proper place. 

I then slid on the white nylon mesh finger gloves, with the frills at the
wrists.  Lastly, I put on the bustier's matching royal blue transparent mesh
jacket.  As I said it was also made of a see-through material, but using two
layers one over the other, made it mostly translucent.

I again slowly descended the stairs, carefully holding the railing.  Partially
my reticence was due to not wanting to hurt myself in a needless fall and partly
it was a little trepidation about what comes after dinner.  As I reached the
bottom of the stairs, I smiled and thought it doesn't matter what awaits me
behind those doors this is where I want to be.

My master / husband will hate my writing this part, but this is what I said to
him that night and if he wants an accurate record of that conversation he will
have to leave this in.
    
Yes, this is where I want to be.  We are not rich in monetary terms (though we
have enough to keep everyone happy), but we have a wonderful family and we love
each other.  My husband, outside of this fantasy world, should be the model man
for the 90's.  He generally lets me make all of the decisions concerning the
rearing of our children and running the household.  Despite what you may think
of him by reading this story, he is actually a wonderful father and a
wonderfully sensitive husband.

So, yes I do want to be here.  I walked up to the double doors and removed the
expected envelope.  Ah, a white satin sleep mask this time.  I slid it into
place over my eyes.  The elastic strap once again buried itself into my curly
auburn locks, tightening the satin material over my eyes.  I knocked as
instructed and heard the doors open.

I felt my husband / master come to stand beside me.  He placed my hand on the
crook of his raised elbow, as he led me into the room like a lady going to a
fancy party.  I was seated in one of the two head of the table chairs.  These
had arms and straight backs.  They were made of heavy wood, with padded fabric
seats.

My master lashed each of my arms at the wrist and the elbow to the matching arm
of the chair.  Again my legs were bound above the knee and at the ankles.  My
ankles were further restrained by being tied to a center bar, which was part of
he chairs frame.  Two sets of twin ropes were crossed across my chest in an X
fashion, binding me into a perfect posture and upright position.  Binding me to
a chair to feed me dinner was a common part of one of my husband / masters
bondage scenarios. But what I didn't understand was why he had used rope instead
of Velcro fasteners, as was his norm.  Being bound at dinner was not a true
bondage situation, so usually the black nylon and Velcro straps were the
preferred method of binding me to my chair.

My wondering mind turned to food as I heard my master sit down at the other end
of the table.  I could smell an Italian aroma wafting through the air.  I heard
him pop the cork on a bottle of wine.  My stomach growled as I heard his knife
and fork clicking against his plate as he ate.  He did not rush his meal he
simply ate normally.  But, without the usual chit chat.  When he was finally
finished, I heard him go through the door to the kitchen.  Soon he returned, and
as he moved over to my side of the table I could smell that wonderful Italian
aroma.  I heard the plate being put down on the table in front of me and liquid
being poured into a glass.  Then my chair was pushed sideways and forward, into
its place at the table.  This was not unusual, because I knew that while my
master was eating he liked to admire his handiwork.

I heard him step away for a minute.  I wasn't sure what he was doing, but it
sounded like he was rearranging something on the table.  Then he seated himself
besides me.  I felt the tips of a fork brushing my dark red lips.  I cautiously
took a nibble, to make sure it wasn't overly hot.  Hmmmm,  Hmmmm, it was
perfect.  Fettuccini Alfredo.  My master feed me fork after fork of the
delightful dish.  I savored the flavor and enjoyed my master feeding me.

Very gently he would put the fork next to my lips and as I opened my mouth
demurely he would slide in the small portion of food.  When I had had five or
six bites, he would hold the wine glass to my waiting lips and tilt it just
enough so that I could take a small sip.  I made sure that I only took small
sips because the last thing I wanted to do was get tipsy during a bondage
encounter.
     
I daintily ate bite, after bite until it my portion was finished.  I was glad
that it had not been any larger because I did not want to have had to offend my
husband \ master by telling him that I had had enough.  Again the wine was
proffered and sipped.  "Thank you, master", I said meaningfully, "for such a
wonderful dinner."  He did not say anything in response.  Instead I felt him
lean over me and his warm lips met mine.
Our tongues leaped at each other wrestling and groping each other.  He slowed
his pace and began to back away, finishing our kiss.  I tried to lean forward to
extend the intimacy, but I could not as the rope bindings across my chest dug
into my soft flesh.  All I felt was air in my open aching mouth.

I heard my husband clearing the meager effects on the table and moving about the
room.  Sliding my chair back from the table he began to unbind me.  He removed
each set of ropes in the reverse of the order that he had put them on.  First I
was released from the ropes criss-crossing my chest.  Next from the ropes
binding my ankles and knees.  Lastly, my wrists and elbows were untied.
       
My master helped me to stand, which as I have said before, was always helpful
when you are wearing five-inch spike heels.  He led me back into the living room
and gently helped me out of my royal blue transparent jacket.  "It is time for
another rest Lady Andrea", he informed.  "As with swimming, it is not a good
idea to enter into strenuous activities shortly after eating".   One of his
hands lifted my right hand and with his other hand placed something made of
leather into my palm.  With both of my hands I felt the leather gadget, and
quickly understood that this was a gag.  "Please put this on slave", my master
commanded me.   I took the central leather pad in both hands and lifted it
towards my mouth.  I gave the attached cylindrical leather plug a sexy kiss as
it reached my lips.  Opening my mouth to receive the thick flat-headed plug, I
closed down the sides of my mouth and sucked on it.  I pulled slowly pulled
backwards on the leather pad, which I am sure made it seem like I was actually
sucking the two plus inches of hard leather into my mouth.  This was of course
exactly what I was trying to do, as I knew that it would please my master to no
end.  I smiled mischievously behind the gag as I thought, that maybe my happy
little slave girl act would send him back for another cold shower!  I buckled
the two sets of buckles as tightly as I could around my thick curly locks.  I
felt my master checking the separate leather straps and mummer something like...
satisfactory.

Smack.  Totally unexpectedly, I felt my husbands strong bare hand slam into my
buttocks.  The spank pushed me a tottering step forward and forced an
unintentional shriek to well up in my throat.  My muffled mouth let merely a
resounding,  "Aarrrhhhh", pass through.  "I just wanted to make sure that your
gag was effective, my dear", said my master.  The blow especially stung, because
my rear end was still tender from its encounter with the leather leash.  "Cross
your wrists in front of you and hold them out for binding", he commanded me.

Doing as instructed I felt rope once again surround my wrists. This time it was
rough manila cord.  My wrists were first bound down the middle and then from
right to left forming a cross (+) pattern.   This was done twice and the tied
off, in a place that there was no way my fingers could reach.  Unlike my last
binding, this time my master left a few feet of cord hanging down from my
wrists.   My husband / master turned me a quarter turn (ninety degrees) and
commanded, "Kneel down slave".  I slowly and as gracefully as possible lowered
myself into the requested position.  I kept my knees together as I had in our
bedroom, resting my butt on the heels of my pumps and laying my bound wrists on
my knees.  I lowered my head submissively and worked hard to remain immobile. 
This wasn't as easy as it sounded, for it was necessary to keep my high heels
tightly together to support my rear end and this meant that only my severely
strained toes were keeping my balance.

"There is a table before you slave, bend over it with your arms outstretched",
again the voice of command.  That voice that you knew meant that it would brook
no insubordination at all.  I bent forward and felt a cushion on the table.  My
hands slid past that leaving my hips propped up in the air by the thick pillow.  
A small lacy pillow was slid under my face at the point it would have come in
contact with the table.  I had soon realized that I was being forced to lie
across the coffee table.  My husband moved behind me separating my legs
forcefully.  He bound each leg just above the knee to the opposite leg of the
heavy table.  Next a set of cords was thrown over my waist and the rope
obviously went under the table, because as it was tightened it dragged my
stomach against the hard wood.  This was made even more uncomfortable than it
should have been, because of the cushion propping up my thighs, which forced an
unnatural thrusting of my tush upwards into the air.

The gag in my mouth was a fortunate item for me to be wearing at the moment. 
For I knew that if I was able to speak I would have barked like a dog.  I know
my sense of humor and if he wants to give it to me "doggie" style, I felt that I
should at least give him a howl or two.  The rope attached to my wrists was
pulled forward and tightened.  This stretched and straightened my arms, which
lay to either side of my head. Lastly he bound each ankle separately with rope,
pushing them even further apart he attached them to some sort of spreader bar.

My husband / master stood up, pausing for a minute or two, before he began to
slowly circled me.  My master is a perfectionist when it comes to rope work and
the bondage position.  He has told me that he is always striving to create a
piece of living art work out of my bound form.  He also has a particular way of
doing all of his rope work to make it more attractive.  He takes each rope and
bends it in half at its mid-point.  Taking the taped loose end of rope and
passing it through the loop formed at the middle of the rope starts each tie. 
In this way each time he wraps rope around one of my appendages, two strands are
applied side by side.

In my minds eye I could see myself tied to the dark mahogany wood of the coffee
table.  My knees were wrapped with four manila cords and tightened by the
winding rope, which completed the figure eight.   My powder blue seams making
little roadways down my legs to my widely spread ankles.  The manila rope
surrounding my ankles ended just above the top twin straps of my highly arched
pumps.  My white leather sheathed toes were splayed to either side of the
offending bar.  I could feel his eyes traveling up my immobilized legs and
thighs and resting on the blue lace crotch less panties that covered my rear. 
These panties were somewhat different then the previous ones as they were split
open from stem to stern. I am sure this afforded him a wonderful picture of my
curly haired love mound and my puckered little anus.  The quadruple rope cords
pressing into the royal blue nylon mesh fabric that covered my back, served to
squish my stomach and breasts into the hard wood.  My head lay sideways on the
provided pillow, probably propping it up over my surrounding bound arms.  With
the white satin night mask and the thick black pad that held my gag in place, I
doubted that much of my face could be seen.

In his own good time he moved around to my rear end.  I knew this as soon as I
felt him apply the gooey substance around and over my puckered rear entrance. 
This surprised the heck out of me as it was just not one of my husband / masters
normal interests.  In fact I believe that we had had anal sex less times than
the number of years we had been married!  But here he was lubing me up, pushing
one and then two fingers into my tight opening.  He applied more of the Vaseline
and made sure that his probing fingers pushed plenty of the slippery substance
into me.  Next I felt something hard and stiff against my rear entrance.  It
wasn't his manhood though, it was stiffer and harder and the tip was more
rounded and tapered.  Slowly this invading hardness was pushed into my rectum. 
Its tapered head pushed open my greased passageway bit by bit until its full
width was in me.  "Oooorrrrhhhhh", I groaned through my mouth-filling gag.  When
my master had about two inches of what I now assumed was my own milky white
vibrator, in me he stopped.  I could feel my spinster muscles tightening and I
believe actually starting to push the offending plastic out of my abused anal
canal.  I helped by clenching and unclenching my buttocks muscles.  My master
would have none of these shenanigans though, and with a firm shove he inserted a
full four or five inches of the hard plastic into me.  I knew that he had not
shoved it all the way in because, he at that point held the end and swirled the
plastic penis around my insides.  When he stopped I realized that neither my
spinster nor butt muscles were going to be able to dislodge the item.  So there
it remained, in all probability looking like a thick white rectal thermometer
sticking out of my ass.

"Time for your rest now", my master informed me.  I heard him sit down and pick
up what sounded like a newspaper.  I heard the rustling of the pages until he
found something that interested him.  "Oooouuuummmpppfff", I moaned as I felt
him lower his crossed feet onto my already strained back muscles.  Humiliation
was a much-used ingredient in most S&M play.  But just as anal sex was unusual
for us, so was this.  Treating me like a piece of furniture was only something
he had done for laughs previously.  As I lay there, resting I had a lot of time
to think.

The only answer that I could come up with for my husband / masters deviation
away from our "norm", was the length of time we had to fill.  Usually, we only
had one or two hours, to act out any bondage fantasies.  During those times I
would hurriedly dress and then my master would subject me to one or two
bondage's.  A session of lovemaking would follow and that would be it.  Today we
had a full four or five times that amount of time.  So I guess my master was
just intent on trying all of those things that we normally didn't have the time
to do.

Time passed slowly, but pass it finally did.  I heard the rustle of the paper
being set aside and then the weight of his heavy feet being removed from my
aching back.  He came around behind me and knelt between my spread legs.  His
hands caressed the leather and straps of both of my pumps at the same time,
sliding upwards to the itchy manila rope that harnessed my nylon sheathed
ankles.  He fondled my ankles and the bindings, slowly and lovingly, before
moving onwards.  The balls of his fingers traveled up the seams of my stockings,
stopping to rub my tortured flesh about my bound knees.  Up the steep slope of
my legs and thighs his hands probed, dallying long enough around the top of my
stockings to give them a little pull and let them snap back against my milky
smooth thighs.  Over my white half moons they slowly went, as if they had minds
of their own.  Onto the lacy soft blue nylon of my panties.  He kneaded my firm
rump with both hands all of the time seeming to be gaining power and strength
from his actions.

I felt the material of his pants drape over my legs as they fell to the ground
about his knees.  Unceremoniously the white pseudo cock was pulled from my
rectum.  Again I felt something hard and stiff waiting at my rear door, but this
time it had the familiar feel of the firm head of my master's rod.  He rubbed
his manhood on both of my cheeks and then I could feel him pumping himself
behind me.  When he was ready he began to slowly press at my buttocks single
ogre like eye.  His thick-capped head was refused access by my tight little hole
at first.  I felt him gather himself together and then surge forward against my
hips.

"Oooouuupphhh", I moaned as just like the ball popping behind my teeth, his cock
head popped into my tight back door.  I felt his staff stop, until the hand that
he had supported his shaft with was removed.  Both of his hands were moved to my
hips as he began a very slow smooth back and forth motion with his hips.

Once past my tight trap door, he did not seem to have any problem with the
tightness of my rear confines.  The Vaseline lubing I had earlier received
seemed to allow him comfortable access to my asshole.  My situation was much
different than this.  Every push forward of his surging hips pushed his stiff
rod deeper into my nether regions.  His cock was both wider and longer than the
previous plastic inhabitant of my rear canal and it felt like it was ripping me
apart.  Behind my mask I ground my eyes shut to ward away the pain.  Expulsions
of air were forced from my lungs as each of his thrusts went forward.  They
sounded like mere gasps around the effective black gag.  Slowly my master drove
a fiery path down my rectal canal with his hot thick manhood.  Each thrust
pushing into my bound motionless hips a little harder and farther.   Finally his
strokes seemed to have reached the limit of their depth and he began to pull out
until only the tip of his penis was still embedded in my anus and then drive
forward until all of the rest of him was sucked into my anal tract.  At first
this was almost as painful as his opening strokes had been, but as both I and my
butt muscles relaxed, the pain began to recede.  So each of his thrust was
merely uncomfortable and I could begin breathing more easily.

Forward he dove and backward he pulled time after time.  My master was really
into a grove, as I could feel him growing within me.  His strokes were going so
far backwards that a couple of times I feared that he would fall out and we
would have to start all over again!  He didn't though; he just pushed in and out
of my ultra tight rear end time and time again.  I unclenched my hands, which I
had earlier clinched into fists before me.  I am not going to say that it was
beginning to feel good being impaled back there, but there was something about
the thought of my master in heat that was heating my blood.  Faster and faster
he pumped his hardened meat into me.  Each stroke slamming into my hips, pushing
them backwards and rubbing my lowered back raw where the rope held me to the
table.

A floodgate opened in my anal canal.  It was like someone had all of a sudden
poured a hot enema down my rear gullet.  I knew my husband / master was coming
in me as I could feel his rod twitch in the tight confines of my ass.  He
continued to pound it into me for a while, but at the end he pulled out.  He
laid his cock on the crack of my raised butt and let it pour out the remnants of
its thick milky cum onto my brown pucker bunghole.  I could feel the cum on my
cheeks where he had pushed the crotch less panty fabric out of its uncertain
lava like path.  I heard him sigh with satisfaction as his eruption ebbed.  He
seemed to rest there for a while.  Lastly I felt him wiping my butt off with a
child's wipe-em and resetting my meager panties in their appropriate place.

He left me like that for a few minutes, leaving the room to clean himself up I
suppose.  Upon returning he made quick work of unbinding me from the table and
helping me into a standing position.

I stood rubbing my unbound wrists as my master finally deigned to remove my
mask.  I blinked my eyes in the harsh lights of the room.  It seemed to be much
brighter in here than normal.  I saw that all of the shades had been lowered and
that the heavy drapes had been closed.  The furniture had been moved around to
be less intrusive and more compatible with the bondage scene...  Then I saw it. 
I could not believe my straining eyes.  Upon a tripod rested our video camera
and behind it was our 31" inch big screen TV.  I couldn't believe I was watching
myself rub my wrists, standing in the middle of our living room / dungeon,
wearing the sexy costume he hard ordered me into.

My face turned red and I turned on my husband like the wrath of God.  If it
hadn't been that I was still gagged at that point, there would have been a very
colorful outburst emanating from me.  My husband grabbed both of my arms and
said softly, "You said whatever I want."  He reminded me of my exact and damning
words.  I stopped twisting in his strong grip and began to calm down.  He knew
that I hated any thought that any of our goings on would get outside of our four
walls.  Therefore I had always refused all of his attempts to allow him to
videotape one of our encounters.  In fact I had only allowed a mere three or
four-dozen pictures, from a self-developing camera, to be taken of myself in
these situations.  Those were kept under lock and key in a strong box in our
bedroom, with other important documents such as birth certificates. Videotaping
was just out of the question!  My husband \ master was just too good with
computers for videotape to be safe.  He had one of those capture mechanisms that
could steal a picture from tape and make it into a bit map.  Heck our windows
background was a picture of the kids taken from videotape!

"Calm down and hear my proposition, before you explode Andrea", he looked into
my eyes and I glared back at him, angry and defiant.  "We can stop this bondage
encounter right now and you give me rights to disseminate that videotape any way
I see fit.  This includes posting your image on Internet bulletin boards and
swapping it in chat rooms.  I think I can satisfy just about anyone's taste with
the film we have already taken..." I surged against his strength, yelling curses
and other dire threats through my muffled mouth.  He got the message though. 
"Or....", he continued.  "You agree to do a particularly difficult S&M scene. 
The tape is kept under lock and key, no one but you and I view it and no
pictures from it ever leave this house.  Of that I give you my word."  Now I
really began to calm down, his word was always good.  Of course it left me with
little or no choice in the matter, but he had obviously arranged it that way.  I
was beginning to wonder if all of this was a set up to get me to agree to this
next scene.  Once again as if reading my mind he guided my body through a
quarter turn.

Looking at the archway going into the dining room, I could see a set of double
block and pulleys suspended from the heavy-duty frame of our tract lighting. 
Suspension bondage, probably the most difficult bondage there was.  With the
nautical block and pulley arrangements he could easily pull my weight fully up
to the ceiling.  He had moved over to the camera and was taking in both my
expressions and the direction of my gaze.  Suspension bondage was rough, but
there had to be more otherwise the choice was far too easy.  I looked towards my
husband \ master questionably and he pointed towards the dinning room table.  On
the white linen covered table, the pads had been removed, were the implements
and items, which were to attend my proposed punishment.  A full leather arm
binder sleeve was the first item on the table.  Besides it rested black leather
cuffs and a studded black leather belt.  Next came the real painful items. 
Spring nipple clamps with attached lead weights, a thick candle and lastly a
narrow stiff braided leather-riding crop.

My husband / master moved back to my side and in his best showman like voice
said, "All right my dear and what shall your choice be."  He made an exaggerated
swing of his arm and pointed to the video camera.  Will it be door number one
and allowing you lovely body and technique to be viewed by others who share our
personal interest?  Or..." He paused as I watched him and myself on our TV.  My
body was presented proudly with my breasts thrust forward and my legs elongated
and made shapelier by the white strappy high heels.  The red lines on my wrists
and the heavy gag in my mouth were all that marred the overall picture.  I
wondered how many other submissive females found themselves in this situation at
one time or another.  I wondered how many of us there were out there one hundred
thousand, two.... my musings were interrupted as my husband \ master continued,
".... Or.... You can have door number two.  Yes, if you choose this door you
will be ensconced in a particularly stressful, suspended bondage situation.  You
will be treated to the best in leather restraints and our famous spring nipple
clamps!  And just to make things more interesting I will throw in a nice hot wax
treatment and a full body switching!"  My husband hummed that silly tune that
accompanied the jeopardy show, during final jeopardy question as he waited for
my answer.

I looked between the two.  At that time I noticed another tripod, empty now, but
set up so it would have given the camera a perfect view of me when I was giving
him a bound blow job.  How many men would look at those images on their computer
screens if I acquiesced.   I was blindfolded during the entire episodes and
wearing sexy costumes that would make it impossible for anyone to be able to
recognize me in those pictures.  Who would believe, looking at me on the street
in my town and country clothes and flat-heeled shoes that I was the woman from
these pictures?  How many men would jerk off fantasizing about me in those
pictures.  It was an exciting thought to think of the power I would have over
those many unknown strangers.  "Door number one or Door number two", my husband
/ master asked once more.  That last thought was the one straw that broke the
camels back.  No, no, not the power... that illusionary thought passed quickly. 
It was the sharing of ourselves outside of our marriage that made the choice for
me.  In a weird way I would be inviting all of those men into our bed with us,
and this was something I couldn't do.  I lowered my head in submission and
pointed towards, door number.... two.

I heard or maybe I imagined I heard my husband's relieved sigh as he continued
without missing a beat, "Allrighty then.  The lady has chosen door number two
and some really great suspension torture."  He was totally out of the Fellows
role and now into a Jim Carey meets Monty Hall role.  As if he realized that his
excitement had pushed him over the edge, he worked hard to compose himself.  He
turned to me and said, "Please take a few minutes to attend to your personal
needs and then re-join me here in the dungeon."

Unbuckling my gag I removed the wet leather from my mouth.  I worked my jaw a
bit and then replied softly, "Yes, master".  I left the room and all of its
frightening aspects and entered the bathroom.  I cleaned myself out with a quick
douche and then re-applied my makeup.  I very much doubted that I would be
blindfolded this time, so I spent extra time on my eyes and blush.  My Colorstay
lipstick had done a good job of not wearing off, but I touched it up a bit
nonetheless.  It helped me, a lot, to handle these normal simple tasks and
therefore being able to keep the awaiting trail out of my thoughts.

I knew I could do this scene.  But it was just that this one was taking all of
the worst aspects of countless other bondage encounters and putting them all
into one scene, I lamented to myself.  Forcing the thought from my head, I
brushed my auburn / brown hair until it shinned.  I straightened my clothing and
re-seated my breasts in their half-cup enclosures.  'Oh, my poor babies', I
thought as I held my mounds, 'what am I letting you in for?'  Holding my head
high I walked gracefully back into my masters dungeon.

My husband / master was behind the camera as I came in.  He was zooming in and
out on different parts of my features.  I posed for the camera, bending one knee
forward and arching one foot, as I lifted the heel of the floor, even further. 
My hands went to hips and I smiled.  Then I turned my head and winked.  My
husband master / pointed to position on the carpet were he had placed a black X
with electrical tape.  I strode over to the spot and made 'cutesy' sounds as I
looked over at the nearby cloth covered folding tray.  "What do we have here", I
said putting my frilly-gloved hands to the sides of my face and doing my best
Betty Bop dip.  I removed the white cloth and covered my mouth with the tips of
both hands fingers, my face registered marked surprise and a little fear.  "And
what am I to do with all of these things....", I feigned my incomprehension.  It
was amazing that my husband hadn't stopped my little act, but before I walked
back into the room I had sworn to myself that I would play this scenario out
beyond even my husband's wildest dreams.  Somehow my husband \ master must have
sensed this.  Looking at the tray I picked up the least offensive item and said,
"Oh my I guess you want me to put this belt on?  Of course you do master, why
else would you have laid it out here."  I took the three-inch thick leather belt
and wrapped it around my waist.  I slotted the big D ring into the tightest
notch that I could, and then I finished off the rest of its latchings.  My
husband made a circular motion with his upraised hand from behind the camera. 
"Silly me, the D ring should be at the back shouldn't it", I remarked with a
light lilt to my voice.  I used both hands to pull and push the tight leather
until I felt he ring move into the proper position. 

"Oh, what lovely cuffs", I cooed.  Picking one up I held it to my cheek and
rubbed it against my soft flesh.  Looking at the TV monitor I could see the
lovely contrast that my white finger gloves made with the hard black leather. 
"Let's see does this go on my wrist", I questioned myself as I slid it over my
left wrist.  "Oh no, it just a little to large for that.  Then of course it must
go on my ankle!"  I picked the second leather ankle restraint off of the tray
and walked over to a nearby chair.  The chair was turned at a forty-five degree
angle to the camera and I was sure this would provide a perfect picture.  I sat
down gracefully and stretched out one leg before me.  The easiest way to put on
the binding would have been to cross one leg over the other knee, man-like, and
buckle it on.  Taking one of the leather cuffs I bent over and reached out to my
extended ankle.  This was in part a partial ballet position. Gently I placed the
padded cuffs against my ankles.  I used the twin buckles to bind the hard black
leather to my powder blue sheathed gams.  I reversed my posture and repeated the
procedure on my second leg.  "Oh, my aren't they just the sweetest things you
ever seen", I said cutely as I held both of my legs up from the floor to show
off my bindings.

I walked back to the table and final item.  "Ohh, ohh, ohh... this doesn't look
comfortable at all", I said in mock sadness.  I lifted the full harness gag with
just on finger and swayed it from side to side as I eyed it sadly.  Then I
smiled, "But then again, I guess a slave just has to do what a slave has to do". 
I slid the leather harness over thick curly locks.  One strip of leather
descended down between my eyes and then formed a triangle about my nose; below
this dangled a yellow ball.  I smiled and gave a wave to the camera, "Bye, bye. 
Talk to you soon."  With that I used both hands to pop the ball behind my teeth. 
This ball was slightly smaller than the previous one and allowed me to encircle
it with full lips, rather than showing off my widely spread teeth.  I continued
to finish the bindings of the head harness.  I buckled the buckle beneath my
chin and then the ones behind my neck and head.  Once it was completed it really
was a very attractive item.  I could see the black leather straps surrounding my
soft white skin and the big yellow ball juicily encased within my dark red lips. 
I stood and posed a bit pointing out each item with my white lacy finger gloves.

My master crossed to the dining room table and retrieved the black leather arm
binder.  He had me turn my body, so that the camera would have a good view of
the proceedings.  Being the perfect submissive, I put my arms behind me and
steepled my fingers, almost at the same time as he was uttering the instructions
to do so.  My husband \ master bought the triangle sleeve upwards letting my
hands slide down the soft leather.  At the tight bottom I wiggled my hands into
the single glove like projection. When they slid properly in place the remainder
of the sleeve surged upwards until the top was only inches below my shoulders.

My master tightened the straps, in the same manner that he had tightened my
corset.  From bottom to top until my shoulder blades were pulled so tightly
together that I though they would pop.  He removed the triple strand of pearls
from about my neck.  In its place he buckled the simple soft leather collar that
was part of the arm binder sleeve set.  It was attached to the sleeve with
another strap and buckle arrangement that made it impossible for the wearer to
in anyway shimmy out of the tight cone like leather sleeve.  I tried to shrug my
shoulders in vain, against the torturous leather sleeve. Anything to lessen the
pressure, but all I achieved was a reminder of how painfully strained my
shoulder blades were.

From his pocket he removed one of the items that I really had been avoiding, a
spring nipple clamp.  He pushed the tiny bit of blue fabric away from the tip of
my left breast.  He kneaded the hard flesh between thumb and fore finger giving
it little pinches and pulls as it hardened and lengthened.  He opened the spring
on one of the clips and slowly brought to up to my breasts.  I watched as he
used his other hand to use a remote control that had the camera zoom in on my
chest and face.  I watched the big screen TV, fascinated as the open clamp moved
towards my teat that he still held between two fingers.  The metal of the clasps
touched me and I jumped as if hit with an electric shock.  I looked down at my
breast just in time to see the clamp settle on the tip of my nipple and close.  
"AAAAaaaaggggghhhhh", I wailed through my gag. I twisted my head back and forth,
waiting for the pain to subside.  And subside it did, actually pretty quickly;
it went from actual pain to just a mere heavy throbbing.  I closed my eyes
rather then watch my master attach the second clamp.   "Aaaarrrrrggghhhh", I
howled once more.  Both of my breasts throbbed as if they were there own
separate entity.

My master had put each of the clamps exactly on the tip its respective nipple,
grasping only a small bit of the tender flesh.  This was also of course the most
painful way to apply them.  Anywhere else on the breast would of course be less
painful than the tender tip of my nipples.  Taking a bigger bite with the clamp
would spread the amount of area that the pressure was spread across and
therefore reduce it.  He knew all this and so did I and that is of course why he
did not have me put them on myself.  While it was exciting for him to watch me
inflicting the anguish upon myself, he knew that he couldn't trust me to place
them as expertly as he had.  When the pain receded enough for me to be able to
open my eyes I looked back at the TV.  The silver metal clamps were lying
against my bruised breasts.
       
The worst was yet to come and I knew it.  In his hand he dangled heavy fishing
weights, 4oz. was clearly stamped on each of them, from about four inches of
clear fishing line.  They had little clips on the top, which were usually used
to clip them to fishhooks, but not this time.  He pressed the first little clip
against the eyehole, thoughtfully provide in the center of each God blessed
clamp.  He made sure that both were secured to their respective clamp, giving
the clamps a slight tug to make sure they were secure.  This drew a slight gasp
from my highly muffled mouth.  Then he sort of just tossed them slightly up in
the air and let them fall.  I watched on the monitor, almost as if it were in
slow motion, those weights pop up out of his hands and then drop to the full
length of their tethers.  "Nnnnnooooooooo", I shouted through the gag.  Followed
quickly by, "Aaaarrrrrgggghhhh", as I shouted in distress.  The weights pulled
my aching nipples down to and then like elastic bands bounced them back upwards.
"Aaaaahhhhhhhh", I screamed as the twin weights bounced from one painful
direction to another.  Finally they slowed to a dangling swaying and my breasts
once again reverted to a painful throbbing.  As the pain lessened I again opened
my eyes.
       
Like a person outside of my body I felt my master turn me and walk me towards
the waiting block and tackle arrangements.  Each step brought a new twinge to my
tortured tits.  Finally I arrived beneath the pulleys and was guided ahead just
a bit further.  "You must lay down on the floor, so that I can hoist you upwards
Lady Andrea.  So be so good as to let me help you to the ground."  My husband /
master was as good as his word and helped me gently down into first a sitting
position and then with his hands supporting my head, into a laying position.  He
left me for a few minutes to rest from my trails.  The weights were now lying
against my stomach, letting me get used to the clamps throbbing pressure.  My
tormented gasping breaths began to come more easily.

He was soon back, spreading my legs widely, while attaching a spreader bar to my
ankle restraints.  He used replacement chain links that could be screwed open
and closed to attach the D rings on the black leather cuff to the eye rings on
the three-foot wide cylindrical spreader bar.  When he was finished he attached
thick metal clasps to other D rings on each of the padded ankle restraints. 
These clasps were attached to the block and tackle contraptions, which had
multiple cords running through the mass of pulleys.

Wrapping both of the cords ends around his black leather gloved hand he began a
hand over hand pulling of the twin cords.  He had to make many short pulls, but
soon he had my spread legs perpendicular to the ground.  Leaving me stretched
like that way for a few moments, he said, "I bet you would love it if I didn't
lift you any higher than this wouldn't you".  I murmured positive imprecations
through the all to effective gag and nodded my head 'yes' to make sure he
understood.  "Hmmmm, yes I could", he continued.  I still have full access to
all of your body parts, but.... I just wouldn't want to disappoint you and let
you miss the full effect of a well planned suspension."  With that he start the
hand over hand on the cords again.  My butt came off the ground and my back was
slowly dragged across the carpet as my body was hoisted higher into the air.  As
my back straightened the weights fell backwards toward my face, making me moan
in pain. Due to my slow upward progress the weights moved into a dangling
position in a smooth enough fashion that it did not blind me with pain.

My master had explained how the use of these nautical block and tackle
arrangements could reduce the weight of the object, in this case me, to one
quarter of its weight. It only required that a lot of rope or cord in this case
be pulled through successive pulleys.  This meant that he had to pull a lot of
cord to raise me into the air, but by the same token he was now only working at
pulling thirty pounds of dead weight (no pun intended).

Finally my head came free of the floor and soon only my hair was brushing it. 
He tied the ropes off to the heavy dining room table and then moved to my back. 
My arms in the sleeve were leaning back away from my body.  This he quickly
corrected by attaching the sleeve to the D ring of the waist belt.  My firmly
muscled legs throbbed to the pressure of supporting my entire body.  My poor
cunny, once again, felt like it was being pulled apart.  The dangling weights
and my tormented shoulder blades sent their own pained messages to my brain. 
Every part of my body had some sort of pain.  Slowly I was able to accept each
of the different types of pain until they all became manageable.

 Looking backwards I could see that my husband had moved the camera to a new
angle.  There I was hanging upside down in my TV set. My eyes were drawn to the
shinny white patent leather of my sky-high heels.  Now the choice of these heels
over the other offerings in my closet became apparent.  The multiple straps made
sure that my foot remained faithfully ensconced in the highly arched leather
heels, with no worry that they might 'pop' off.  He zoomed in on my face and I
also saw that the harness gag was another thoughtful choice.  It sexy black
leather straps provide a perfect holder for the large yellow ball that my dark
red lips surrounded.  Furthermore it did not hide the rest of my face and all of
the work I had done on my make up.

The camera angle was readjusted and a close up shoot was set which only include
my pour abused lower love lips.  I knew that the camera had a 12x focus on it
and it looked like he had me zoomed all of the way in.  In the picture I watched
as his hands spread soothing oil into my curly brown hair.  This made my
vagina's hair glisten in the light.  The camera picked it up like tree branches
covered in ice when the sunlight hits them just right.  The yellowish light made
my hair gleam golden.  Into this picture came a thick red candle, with very
little effort he pushed the tapered end of the candle directly into my sex,
seating at least two or three inches of the hard wax inside of me.  A match
exploded into life on the screen and the candle was lit.  He continued to keep
this focus for the two or three minutes it took for the candle to build up some
real hot wax.  He gently flicked the candle with his finger, spilling the hot
wax directly onto my puffy love lips.  My body jerked in response, which caused
my weighted nipple clamps to pull on my tits and send more agonizing pain
signals to my exhausted brain.

To finish off the bondage scenario, he placed an hourglass upon the floor in
front of me.  One hour of this was impossible was my immediate thought!  When I
looked more closely, I was happy to note that half of the sand had already run
out.  Even a half hour of this didn't seem possible.

"One more chance my dear", my master said.  "You can still pick door number one
or brace yourself for another thirty minutes of uninterrupted pleasure."  I
shook my head no.  With that he lashed his braided quirt across my previously
stripped buttocks.  The many different explosions of pain are two hard to
quantify.  My butt contracted away from the leather lash, splattering more of
the molten hot wax on to my glistening cunny which in turn jerked my body again,
all of which caused the wildly swing weights to pull on my tortured nipple tips. 
"Ooooouuuuggggg", I screamed and then  "AAARrrrhhhhh", I yelled into the ball
blocking all sounds emanating from my mouth.

Each time my body even came close to relaxing, crack the lash would land on some
other unprotected area.  My body jerked again and again.  I had now, once again,
gone beyond the pain and was watching with interest my movements on the big
screen.  Each jerk shook me from the toes of my shoes to the hair on my head and
the jerks and twitches just didn't seem to stop anymore.  My mouth felt dry as
ash and my throat as raw as sand paper, as I howled and moaned a continuous
scream through the damning gag.

Almost as if I were another person, I watched as my master walked around me.  As
he twisted my body sometimes to make sure the camera was getting a good shoot of
my sleeve strained shoulder blades. I watched as he aimed his lash at my thighs,
legs, buttocks, and even breasts.

 A weird feeling began to come over me.  The pain from my nipples was sending
these mixed signals to my invaded sex organ, which was rubbing itself against
the hard wax candle.  The hot wax was equally sending signals to my battered
cunny, but now they weren't all painful ones.  I slowly began to realize that
what I was feeling was the birth of a tremendous gut rumbling orgasm. 
Everything all mixed together was bringing my pain-racked brain towards a point
where it was inconceivable that I could go.  Crack.  Even the crack of the lash
so close to the candle that it shook it, sent more of the pleasure / pain
messages to my cunny.   Crack, burn, tug, and scream.  That was my body leaping
wildly about on the screen.  "Aaaaarrrrggggghhhhh", I continuously moaned as the
tidal wave built up inside of me.  "Ohhhhh..... Ohhhhhhh...Ohhhhh", the moans
came from my tortured and orgasm lashed body.

My husband stopped what he was doing and watched me with an incredulous look on
his face.  Then he leaped into action.  He grabbed the hot candle, blew out the
flame and began pumping it quickly in and out of me like a dildo.   Yes, yes,
yes, YES, I thought to myself.

"RRRrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhh", I screamed in ecstasy as the unbelievable orgasmic
wave burst over me.  I couldn't take my eyes off of my wildly flailing body as
the camera recorded my every move.  Over and over the waves just swept through
my body, until finally they subsided and my exhausted body just hung limply as I
just didn't have anything else to give. At that moment I looked to the hourglass
and saw the last few grains fall into the bottom glass.

******************************************************************************

Disclaimer:
I have watched the video related in this story at least three dozen times, both
with and without my husband.  I generally would never do such a thing, but I
keep watching it over and over to try to find out if that was truly me.   Do to
this though, I cannot say that everything I have related is exactly as I
remembered it?  Because of the passage of time and my viewing the tape, some of
my memories may have been altered to reflect more of what I have now seen versus
what I felt at the time.

No, not everything in the story is entirely accurate.  Such as the sands in the
hour glass were not finished running through the glass, but my husband thought
it had a better sound the way it is now written.  Furthermore my husband has had
me re-write, different segments of this story numerous times, until I have
re-written this whole encounter about four times.

Again the bondage's and the sex are all accurate, I have just added some
details, especially colors and what things felt like.

What happened to me is also true.  I had some sort of short circuit and went
beyond the pain being inflicted upon me twice during this encounter. My husband
calls it an Epiphany.   I don't know what it was that happened or if what
happened really showed me something deep within myself, but I do know that I
don't go about trying to recreate the effect.  While I look back on that day
with I guess you might call them fond memories, it took me the better part of a
week to recover from the battering I received.

Later, on during the evening of this encounter, as we lay in bed together
resting, I let him talk me into watching the un-cut video for the first time. 
He was so eager to see how it turned out that I couldn't turn him down.  He told
me as we watched that he had arranged with his mother to take the kids earlier
during the week and while it was a surprise to me, it wasn't to him.  The
bondage encounter planning and the arranging of all of the necessary items took
every free minute of that week for him to put together.  We both laughed when he
told me that his mother thought that we were going out to dinner and a movie!

No, this video will never surface.  I have written this description, under
duress, only because I believe in keeping my word.

One other note of interest.  My husband / master has many times tried to have me
take out the parts that show that he really is a nice guy.  I have refused each
time.  Yes, in our bondage fantasies I am the submissive, but in our normal
lives I am his partner!

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