Silence

So where were we before I got all distracted with my new trick? That's right, me tied to a spreader bar on the bed, cuffed and gagged with Sir wielding some deadly looking clamps.

He stares into my eyes and places The Mother of all clamps over my whole cunt, sandwiching my clit in the middle. He stares at me, watching my eyes roll back as it snaps shut. I have to say the feeling was exquisite in a very good way. I let out a small shudder. He proceeds to fix pegs where ever he can find spare flesh around the clamp. Then he comes at me with the two small clamps. The first one goes on my right nipple. It hurts but I can bear it. The second one goes on my left nipple and I can not take it. I am whimpering - Sir says I sound like a puppy. I kind of agree but am not in much of a position to comment. I am gagged, tied and in major sensory overload.

The twisted nature of these moments is that when he removes the clamps I look to him as my saviour. He says there will be a punishment for that later. In that moment I could not see past getting the clamp(s) off my nipple and it is gone and he has rescued me.

He walks over to the drawer and pulls out a long sharp white needle about the length of a ruler. He pokes me with it. Pokes my clit with it. I am not liking this game. He rests the needle flat against the top of my thighs.

I don't remember what happened next. I remember him standing beside me, to my right. I remember the look on his face as I lay on the bed, tied to the bar, hands cuffed to the bar, clamped and gagged. I remember I had to move my knees up towards my chest. I don't remember why. I can picture myself lying there and see the confusion spread across my face as my knees draw higher. I see my eyes grow wide, my head start to shake. I look over at him. I understand what he has done, what he is doing. He smiles, nods and chuckles a "MmmmHmmmm." I shake my head. He nods his head. I try to ease into it, looking to him to save me.

The thin white needle rests on my thighs and in the middle it is threaded by a loop to the clamp on my clit.

As my knees draw up, the clamp pulls. I am breathing faster, transfixed by the sensation but the fear is building. The fear is driven by the anticipation of pain. I know once the clamp pulls to a certain point the smaller amount of skin will make it excruciating. I look to him. He smiles and says nothing. I am like a trapped bug in his web. It is blissfully divine. I want to cum but know that if I do it will pull harder on the clamp.

I wish I could remember what it was that was making me draw my knees up. I have a feeling it may have been a cane. Just before I dive into real panic he yanks the clip from me.

I breathe hard.

OMG.

I ask for release but it is denied.

I am freed from my bonds while he uses his hand to bring forth the most intense orgasms. I cum over and over, trying to be silent as he insists. (He tells me later is because it intensifies the orgasm. This I can now attest to.) Holding my breath, I sit up as he is there with his hand in me. I stare into him, looking to him to guide me, direct me, keep me present. I listen and his words wash over me, his eyes locking me in. I am at his will in this moment more than any other. More than when I am tied up, bound, gagged. In this moment I breathe at his will. The word comes, "Now" My eyes roll back and I am spasming, brimming with sound which channels itself all into my cunt grabbing at him, pulling him in. I am thrown back on the bed, gasping. I feel the waves rolling through me from my middle out to my ends. Cum is dripping down my legs, pulsing out of me. The room is full of the smell of sex and fucking.

I am spent.

Eventually I am able to rouse myself enough for a cigarette (though I want it dually noted I don't smoke). The walk down the stairs was tough on my legs.

Restrained

His nails dragged down my back getting firmer. I could feel my flesh pulling, my cunt getting wet, my back arched in response - not out of pain but out of lust. I was panting, hot, desperate to cum and we had not yet even begun.

"You like that, don't you, slut?" I could tell he was grinning. "Stand up." I stood, staring down. He slapped my face lightly. I stayed, eyes locked on the floor. I know now to look at the floor. All at once my clothes were gone, my collar on and I was being walked to the edge of the bed. "Bend over, spread your legs....WIDER! I am going to inspect you."

I fucking hate it. I am bent over the bed while he checks me over. I want to stand up, turn around, look him in the eye, tell him to fuck off and walk out. I know if I do that, I don't get what I want. What was it I wanted again, anyway? I am not a particularly good sub. Yes I know all subs say it but really I am not. I am just not subbie. I think I am perhaps a masochist and to get where I want to go with that I feel like I have to submit. I don't like submitting, I don't want to but I can't turn away from it. It is a strange dance, a very strange dance indeed. I could walk away if I wanted to but I don't. I can't quite explain it. Perhaps I am not willing to admit to myself how much I enjoy parts of this game - this however, is certainly is not one of those parts.

I feel cool metal chains press into my wrists and they are pulled up behind my back, beyond where it is comfortable and fastened to the back of my collar. It is almost not bearable. I am face down on the bed and there are cuffs going on my ankles. Now I am standing. My feet are bound to a bar and tied in to my cuffs and collar and my breasts are pulled into tight balls of red burning flesh, the ropes knotted up high so that I might look down on them. He stands back and admires his work. He is fast and efficient. He tells me how beautiful, how perfect they look. The whip is in his hand. My hair is in my face again. I hate it. My fucking hair is suffocating and hot and awful. I know if I cut it though I would miss him grabbing it, twisting it, pulling me to him. I can't see properly. I can't breathe properly. Now he is whipping. How he gets around my bound arms I do not know but the whip strikes. He pulls my hair to one side so that it does not temper the blows to my shoulders. The ends wrap around my body, stinging my breasts, my stomach, my legs. It licks up between my thighs plunging me into desperate panic that he may not stop - or perhaps that he will. The thin leather drives home, kissing my cunt. I am brimming with lust, with want. I am begging with my eyes, pleading for the collar to be loosened, begging to cum, begging for more, for less, to leave, to stay. He strikes again. I shake my head, muffled squeals and grunts he somehow knows what I am saying, through the gag. He knows what I am saying even when I don't.

He moves to the chest of drawers and takes out a cane. He puts it back and pulls out a much meaner looking stick. In retrospect the flexibility of the cane probably makes it a much harsher weapon but at the time I was not thinking clearly. It drops lazily onto my skin, once, twice. I feel my breath hasten, my body tense, the fear grip me like a vice and squeeze. He puts it to one side and pulls me back down to earth before I plunge over the edge into something I cannot escape from.

My hands and legs are freed and I am permitted to lie back on the bed. A few seconds respite. I look over and see his eyes glinting. He is on me, my legs are pulled up and tied open by the ankles to the bar, my wrist chains clipped to the ends. I suppose if I were upright I would look like I was squatting - awkwardly. That glint in his eyes, raw and animal. He slips his fingers into my need and mutters something about what a slut I am. I hear the sound of light metal chinking. My heart races. He grins, the glint is now replaced with victorious, gleeful anticipation. My 'respite' was so he could collect some pegs, some small clamps and The Mother of all clamps.

My eyes wide, I shake my head. He chuckles, I think at me, perhaps to himself. He stares straight at me and opens The Mother clamp so I can see it snap closed. I draw a sharp breath. He opens it again and looks down, hungry to place it on my flesh.

I know I asked for this but really, in this moment do I want it?

We're not in Kansas anymore Toto.

So it has been two weeks now. Yes I am counting the days. I was on the highest of highs for a while. Actually, that is not entirely true. I was on the highest of highs for exactly three days. Then with the suddenness of an unexpected slap in the face (which we will get to later) I came crashing and careering off the lighted clouds of endorphins and into the black abyss of wanton desire. I suppose that wanton desire is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact I quite enjoy it but this is not one of those sweet encounters where you sit waiting to see your new beau or beauette. This was dark and dirty. I desperately needed to go back, to have more. I needed to be fucked again and I needed to be fucked by him. The part I hated was that he knew it. We spoke on the phone, briefly now, because there was no joy in anticipation anymore. The bliss of talking softly, imagining touches, the thrill of my cunt getting wet at the sound of his voice was there but no longer enough. I got that he had taken a part of me. He owned it and he was not giving it back. Not now and according to him, not ever.

I am back to cooking. Cooking a lot. Avoiding going to see him again. Waiting until I can give it away, give him away, or until I can't bear it anymore. Some moments I can't bear it anymore and I am in the car about to drive there but I haven't - yet.

He sits on the phone. He tells me what I want, what I need and that I am his. Not in the romantic way where I am his forever. In the way that he owns a part of me that is small but so significant, the part of me that has submitted to another person. Whether I admit it or not we both know it to be true.

It is a very difficult thing to describe, that piece. The feeling of being owned. It is vastly different to belonging, to desire, to the beauty of a fresh relationship. There is a small amount of....what is the word? Panic I suppose. For someone like me to give over to someone else, half willingly, half I am not sure...hell, I am not even sure what "it" is. I guess the half that is not willing desperately wants for it to be taken too...whatever it is.

So in my quiet moments I fill my head with fragmented rememberings of debauchery. I can feel the touch, the sting, the release. The glorious fucking release.

He took out a bamboo cane. I stood with the burning of an orgasm unreleased in my belly as he caned my arse. I moaned softly. It got harder and harder. My breath stuck in my throat. I could feel the fire burning in my belly, building again. Evidently so could he.

"You are a very naughty girl. You mustn't cum. You mustn't cum until I say. Is that clear?"
"Yes." My voice was quiet, angry. "Yes, Sir."
"Good Girl."

He knew that I was there fighting him. Surrendered in body only. The fire burned brighter as the pain ripped through my arse. My legs started to shake.

He whispered to me, "You are a slut."

He took my hands down. I knelt on the floor as he collared my neck.

"Suck my cock." It was thick and perfect. I took him in my mouth and devoured him, while he stood there above me, me on my knees, deeper and deeper. It brought me again to where I was ready to cum. I looked up at him, begging him with my eyes to let me go, to stop or to finish me. To let me cum.

"Not now." He bent me over the bed and that moment of entry, that glorious moment. He thrust inside me. It is like a sweet second where the world stops turning. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. It was hard and fast. My head was spinning. "You cum on my cock, now." He thrust a finger in my arse and pulled my hair back harder. My back arched, my cunt tightened and I came. Finally. I could feel my cunt constricting in waves over him, pulling him in. Once, twice and on the third wave he pulled out.

"No!" I shouted. "No, no, not now. Please...Can't you just..."

He stood back and said "You talk too much. You are too loud. I told you not to say no to me." He shoved something in my mouth and tied it there.

I was sitting in a messy puddle on the floor at the foot of his bed, my eyes stung with tears of frustration. At his command I got up on my knees. He licked my breasts, sucked my nipples and then started placing clamps on them. The pain was exquisite. I was unable to speak with the gag in. I know my eyes were searching, begging him. I shook my head and he smiled. "It is only for a minute. It will get better. You will take it." There were three on each nipple. I was shaking my head, making muffled sounds. "Good Girl." He patted my head.

He was softer now, quieter. He pulled out a length of rope. He tied it in expert loops as he must have done a hundred times before. He tied my breasts one at a time so they were tight balls of flesh, red and swollen. He bent me over and caned my bare arse. I was to stay on all fours with my head down. He fucked me again, over and over. Whenever I got close to cumming he would stop and wait for the moment to subside, then he would start again. The thrusting made my breasts jolt and sting but I wanted to cum so much I could not help but thrust back into him. My breasts really burned now. I wanted them to be released. It hurt so much I could feel a surge of panic start to rise in my chest. He took out a giant dildo. He moved around behind me. It was too wide. I shook my head, begging for him to stop, wanting him to continue. "You can take it. I know you can." As he pushed it into me I could feel my cunt stretching. The glorious feeling it brought to my clit. He fucked me with it slowly and I came so hard I could see it spurting out of me. "Good Girl. Good Girl." The waves would not stop coming as he pounded it into me. There was nothing in the world except this. The sensations. The occasional stinging on my arse as he slapped me, the thrusting, stretching of my cunt. The filling up of my insides. The throbbing of my breasts. I sat back on my knees, he went to remove it from me and I shook my head. He smiled.

He pulled back and stood in front of me. I looked straight at him. There was defiance in my eyes I knew it. This is what I was here for. This moment. He slapped my face. Hard. It stung. It made me angry. I challenged him again with my eyes, again he slapped me. I shook my head and frowned. He slapped me again and again until I looked down. In that moment, I was owned. My chest was nearly bursting. It felt so liberating, so unimaginably amazing.

"You look so beautiful there, Girl. Look at how beautiful your breasts are. Perfect. You are such a good slut and right now you fucking own it. I told you I would make you, create you. You are a slut, my slut and right now, you love it."

He was right. I was there, tied, gagged, panting, wet, stretched, hurting, submissive and all of the defiance gone from my eyes. I could feel it. All that was there was lust and fucking. I looked back up at him with playful eyes, shaking my sweaty hair from in front of my face and I grinned and nodded. I did fucking own it. I owned it, I loved it and there was no going back.