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My third and final trip to the BDSM club with my Master and Mistress. Am I looking forward to it? Definitely.It’s been over two years since my first reticent trip with them and has opened up a new world to me. I have been back to the club several times to train with Michael, the head trainer at the club. He has taught me how to manage pain and humiliation and to perform for the audience, testing my abilities with a few private sessions. Tonight is the ultimate performance; Michael will take the pain, suffering, and pleasure no further than this. He does not believe in going to the extremes that some do. He leaves no permanent marks or damage.What do I like about it? It’s the vulnerability and humiliation. The pain and the trust you give others to use your body as they want. To torment, hurt and pleasure you at their bidding. To use you as a plaything for their entertainment. My mind tells me it is wrong, but my body disagrees. As with all things sexual, my body wins.Tonight’s performance will also be video recorded. Master and mistress will upload this on the internet to recoup their expenditure on me. I agreed to this on the condition that I receive a full copy, with all website addresses where it will be displayed, and that my face will not be shown.As usual, my master and mistress supply the clothing for me. My first experience was simply a short coat cinched closed with a belt, and my second was a frilly Lolita-style fluffy dress. In each case with nothing worn underneath. The coat gaped open as I walked; the dress was so short it exposed my bum cheeks when standing, even more when walking or sitting. On each occasion, we traveled by tube train at peak evening hours. You can imagine the reactions. I remember them and shudder with delight, all those hands exploring my body, divine memories.I expect no different tonight and even look forward to it. I knock on their door at exactly six pm. Having showered and put on new clothing just for them. They do expect me to be dressed smartly.Master opens the door.“Come in, dear Sharon.”“Thank you, master,” I politely reply.As soon as the door closes, the mood changes.“Get out of those ridiculous clothes,” commands mistress. “What do you think you look like?” “Sorry, mistress,” I reply and swiftly undress.“Throw those in the bin.” She points to a bin in the corner.I do as I am told and say nothing.She slaps me hard across my bum. “You always acknowledge us when we speak to you.”“Yes, mistress, sorry, mistress,” I simper.“Give me a twirl,” orders master.I pirouette for him.“Such a lovely body, seems almost a shame to defile it, only almost though,” he laughs.“Yes, master,” I agree.“This is what you will wear tonight.” Mistress hands a package to me. “Open it, then.”“Yes, mistress.”I carefully unwrap the package, not wanting to make any mess; putting the packaging to one side, I unfold my clothing for tonight.I hold it up in bewilderment. It looks like a bodysuit, but it is far too small.“It will stretch to fit, don’t worry about that; kocaeli escort now get it on,” mistress instructs.I sit on the edge of a chair and roll the garment up, like putting on stockings or tights. Mistress is correct; it stretches nicely and feels very soft. I stand up to pull it over my body; master helps by pulling at the back and guiding my arms through the short sleeves.“Look in the mirror,” master commands.I do. My body is sculpted within this garment; every curve and crevice is fully visible. Its flesh color makes me look naked. I can see not only my pussy slit but my lips around it too; my belly button is visible too, and as for my boobs! My nipples are standing proud, and the dimples of my areola are clearly defined too. I can only guess what I look like from the back!“Brilliant,” says mistress, “fully clothed but naked too, just the look I wanted.”“You are clever, my dear; I think it’s a masterstroke of your design efforts,” master gushes.I inwardly cringe at the thought of walking out like this; however, I AM covered, unlike the last couple of times.Thinking back to those times makes my body tingle in anticipation; what is wrong with me?Pump-style shoes are produced for me to wear, and off we go. I embrace the walk to the tube station. Standing tall and walking with purpose and confidence, then standing assuredly on the train for forty-five minutes, daring anyone to say anything.My confidence is rewarded: people simply gaze and stare in disbelief at what they see.Arriving at the club, I am passed over to Michael. This time, I am not required to undress in the foyer as Michael leads me to a side room. Now I have to undress, with help from Michael and his assistant.Michael fits leather hook-encrusted anklets and bracelets to my ankles and wrists. He then spreads my legs apart, giving him access to my pussy lips to fit clamps onto them. Three on each, as usual. Chains are attached to the clamps and fitted onto the anklets, stretching my lips gently to the sides and exposing my pink inner sex.Next, a matching leather harness is bought out, again heavily covered in hooks and eyes. I have to step into it, and Michael and his assistant pull it up my legs, stopping just below my crotch. Before pulling it any higher, they attach a dildo to it, liberally lubricating this, and they proceed to pull the harness up. Guiding the dildo into my open vagina. Tugging the harness further up my body, pulling my breasts through openings in the leather front. Straps wrap over my shoulders and down to the waistband, where they are attached with buckles. My wrists are also attached to the waistband, restraining my arms by my sides. Everything is adjusted until Michael is satisfied with the fit and look.I have no say in whether it is comfortable or not. It’s not. The leather is rubbing at my tender pussy opening and pulling tightly into my shoulders.One last piece of leather, a hood, is placed over my head, covering my eyes but leaving my ears uncovered. My face will not be recorded.I kocaeli escort bayan hear a click just under my chin and realize, as I am tugged along, that a leash has been fitted too.Following the leash is not easy being blindfolded. Michael’s assistant guides me along and up the steps into the lounge.A huge cheer welcomes us as we enter the room; it sounds full tonight.“Catch this,” Michael shouts. “Press the buttons and see what happens.”I immediately buckle at the knees as the most potent vibrations I have ever felt throb through my body. This thing feels and sounds like an industrial tool! Everyone laughs and jeers. Michael jerks me back up straight.Standing is difficult; the vibrator is so powerful, and with it attached to the harness, it is sending micro-vibrations along the one-inch wide piece of leather cutting into my open sex. These are tormenting my tender nub to distraction. I gasp and cry as an orgasm shudders through me, bringing me to my knees. Michael jerks me up once more.General laughter and cheering greet my outburst. I have never orgasmed so quickly!Michael tugs on the leash, and I follow blindly; his assistant prevents me from tripping over some steps and guides me up them. I realize we have not left the lounge. A stage must be set up for tonight. The continuing vibrations are making it difficult for me to focus or walk.“I’ll have that back now,” he says to someone in the crowd. The vibrations stop, and I stand a little straighter.I hear clicks and rustling at my shoulders and then start rising in the air. All my weight is transferred through the leather strap between my legs, pulling tighter into my open gash. Pushing the vibrator deeper inside of me, pushing it painfully against my cervix.Hands gently push at my shoulders, spinning me around. Showing me off to the audience.SLAP, SLAP, coordinated paddle blows hit my right tit and left bum cheek, turning me around. Again and again, the paddles strike their violent blows, spinning me faster and faster. The pain burns through my body. Remembering Michael’s teachings, I chant my mantra in my head, ‘pain is transitory.’ It works a little, and the pain recedes, or I get used to it. The blows keep coming, SLAP, SLAP.Over the slaps, I hear the crowd stamping, clapping, and cheering.They finish slapping me, and I spin to a gentle stop.SLAP, SLAP, this time on my left tit and right bum cheek. Spinning me the other way. Evening out the pain. ’Pain is transitory’. Their coordination is good, each blow landing at the exact same time, imparting the pain equally to my tit and bum, maximizing my spinning.They stop as suddenly as they started, or does it only seem that way because I can’t see?I am left hanging, waiting in anticipation, gulping down great lungfuls of air. Regaining my composure.The pain in my cervix now takes over as I come to terms with the pain in my breasts and bum; it is getting very unpleasant.Something is clipped to my left anklet and then to my right one. A spreader bar now holds my izmit escort legs apart. This pushes the vibrator harder against my cervix as it creeps deeper into me.I tremble as the vibrator is turned on. Michael knows the right setting to use. High-speed vibrations ravage my inner sex, making that pain at my cervix unbearable. I twist and turn to alleviate it, to no avail. My clitoris is burning with pleasure as the vibrations are transferred through the leather band, confusing my thoughts between pain and ecstasy. I think I can go on no longer when it happens. The point when pain turns to pleasure. The pressure on my cervix is now becoming unbearable for another reason, one I have never felt before.My body arches forward, pushing my stomach out, as all the muscles in my legs, arms, back, and everywhere else tighten and tense as a tremendous orgasm rocks through me. The vibrations do not stop. Michael keeps them coming, varying the intensity. Pushing pleasure back to pain and pain back to pleasure repeatedly. My body has a mind of its own, flapping about, tightening up, and shaking uncontrollably. Responding to every pleasurable/painful input. Michael turns off the vibrator.I hang like a rag doll, limp and lifeless, tears running under my mask. Pain haunting my mind, pleasure tormenting my body.They lower me to the floor, unstrapping my arms from my sides, lifting them over my head, and clipping them above me. They now take my weight, as my trembling legs can’t. The harness is unclipped and stripped from my body, the cursed vibrator plopping out of my pussy. The audience is ecstatic.They lay me down on the floor, face down. The spreader bar is removed, and something else is fixed to the anklets. I now feel myself being raised into the air by my ankles; Michael and his assistant hold my torso and head off the ground to prevent me from being dragged on the ground. Once off the ground, my arms are pulled up behind me and attached via the bracelets to my ankles. My body is arching backward, presenting my gaping pussy to full view. Oh, I wish I could see it.They spin me gently around, presenting me to the baying mob, and of course, to the prying cameras.I sense someone standing near my head; SLASH, my pussy gets ripped by a multi-stranded whip. I jerk and gasp in pain and surprise. Then another blow, this time from the front of me, a paddle slams its flatness over my open sex. Slamming into my clitoris, turning my pleasure nub into a thing of pain.The whips turn again, its strands extending past my sex and slashing onto my stomach; then, gently and tormentingly, it is drawn slowly back over my wanton gash. Its last tender caress slid over my bum crease. The paddle has no such gentleness, as once again it crashes against my nakedness. Pain flares between my legs. ‘Pain is transitory.’I can feel my labia swelling in response to the attacks it is suffering, as is my clitoris. My poor nub, standing so proud, is such an easy target. I am getting no pleasure from this assault; it is all pain and humiliation.I don’t realize how tense my body has become until they stop abusing me, and I sag against my restraints. Pain flares in my shoulders, bent backward as they are, and my gaping pussy throbs in distress.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32