Two months later…

The lead up was not unlike spinning a plate if by plate you mean a bitches psyche and by spin you mean digitally stabbing her while she attempts to work. There were a couple of video chats that were grainy and off center with her armed with an arsenal of found objects attempting to follow verbose tasks so convoluted that she has to print out the instructions and keep them at hand through out the scene. There were times when she wore binder clips on her clit at work and other where she stole office supplies by smuggling them out wrapped in a rubber glove and stuffed in her snatch. There were drives home with her phone in her crotch as I wrote long, heavily punctuated stories that turned her on just enough to soak her phone in cunt juice. And then there were the edges.

Many, many edges. Starting over a month out I started an incremental increase in the number of daily edges that were required. One, then two, then three, four, five, six and so on until she was looking at days of 15, 16, 17.  The pressure and lack of release was destroying her sex drive. The need to cum was giving way to a sad resentment for stimulation. If she had been able to complete the task she would have done 36 the day before we played in person but she gave up. I should have seen that as a bad sign but I am nothing if not intrepid, undaunted.

A week before I started scheduling time with Rough. We figured out who was going to have her what day. I slowly turned up the pressure. Monday: no snacks at work and a half a can of coke. Tuesday: no snacks and no coke. Wednesday: no snacks, no coke and tasks. Thursday: complete radio silence (she lost her shit on Thursday). Friday: act as if nothing had happened on Thursday. Saturday was play day.

I text her the address about an hour and a half before she is supposed to be there. She is still on EST and so thinks that she only has thirty minutes (unexpected win!). She panics and grabs all of her stuff and, dressed like a reasonably price hooker available for $65 dollars through groupon, heads out for my house. First thing she does is get on the train heading the wrong direction. This is an understandable mistake for a tourist visiting the city except for the fact that I live at the end of the line and the name of my stop, the name of the station she was to get off at and that I gave her was the name of the train she should have taken. Instead she gets on the opposite train and text me from the Southside. Again, I tell her that she has fucked up and that if she is not back on the train quickly that she will get raped and shot and not in the good ways. [Side note: she was not in a bad neighborhood in the least. In fact my neighborhood, the hood she was to intentionally end up walking, is far worse]

Finally she gets turned around and headed in the right direction. She arrives and I pick her up. I park far enough from the station that she has to do a little bit of a hooker walk in front of the train station. We drive around the corner and pull into the garage. We get out and I make her walk into the house in front of me. She has no idea which way is north or south, where the door is or what floor I live on so every step is tentative. I push her on with words and hands getting her to move faster. As she hesitates or looks for affirmation, I look at her irritated and then push her on. We get to the house and I tell her to take of her coat and shoes. As she is doing this, she tries to chat but I am having none of it. I take her glasses off and throw a hood over her head. I tie it off with my rope and she is already starting to pick up the breathing.

I take her to the room and have her strip. She decides to take her own sweet time with it so I start slapping her around telling her to go faster. She tries but she has no idea where she is, where the walls are, what she is standing on, anything about her surroundings. She is cautious and I push her. Finally she is naked or close to and I start punching and slapping her to get her worked up before starting the new party game. I tell her to shut her eyes and I pull off the hood and replace it with a blindfold that I wrap in stretch wrap to keep secured to her face. I tie her hands above her head and start the game.

Two dice. First is the type of actions (Clitoral, insertion, abandonment, electrical, stingy, thuddy) and the second was the number of minutes. First roll is 6, 6. six minutes of thuddy pain. At this point I had a pang of guilt because she was playing with Rough the next day and he is a beast who likes the ol’ ultraviolence and so me marking her up the day before would be kind of mean to him but the role was what it was and so I started the timer. Fists, hands, knees, forearms, bats, you name it. When you are working someone over for six minutes straight, you have the time to use everything you have.

Then next in line was stingy pain. Four minutes of crops and slaps, floggers to balance the beatings. Next was electrical and then clitoral stimulation. For an hour we played this dancing back and forth between the different types of torture until at one point she is so exhausted that she starts to pass out. I catch her and she asks for a drink of water. Oh, you‘ll get water…

But first more electrical!

After almost ten more minutes of violet wand her skin was red and irritated and again she asks for a drink of water. I acquiesced and untied her, threw a burlap sack over her head and dragged her into the bathroom. In the shower she goes and I turned the water on cold to soak her. I left her there and got a knife to cut the glory hole and had her keep completely still while I cut because the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the brand new sack with blood.  When the hole was open I jammed my fingers in and down her throat to make sure the burlap got in her mouth and then I took the showerhead and sprayed it into her mouth. She gulped and sputtered like a thirsty little whore. Thanking me between swallows. I pulled out my dick and shoved it into the whole. Her mouth was ready and started attacking my junk. I take the showerhead and start spraying her in the face as she sucks and the water runs over her face and she freaks the fuck out; spitting, thrashing, and generally acting like she is being drowned. This is an unexpected surprise. I was thinking that the wet burlap would irritate the skin but the fact that it made fellatio into a form of waterboarding is even better! I use this to build up the stress. I start by jamming my dick all the way down her throat to the point she cannot breathe. I hold it there until the twitching starts and she is on the verge of panic. I pulled back just enough to allow her to breathe through her nose while keeping my cock in her mouth. Her focus immediately goes to licking and sucking while gasps for air through her nose. Then I bring in the water. It runs over her face and makes it impossible to breathe again. She starts screaming and thrashing about. I laugh and pull my dick out of her mouth. She loses herself in the moment; at once wanting air, water and cock and knowing that she could not have all of them at once. I did this a couple more times watching her gasping like a caught fish through the burlap glory hole. I figure it is time to move on and turn the water on colder and leave her alone while I prepped the next scene.

I put the sawhorse up facing the mirror and lay the spreader bar out. I brought her in, cuffed her down and attached her legs to the bar at an angle at once forcing her into the sawhorse and exposing her cunt. I took off the blindfold so she could see herself as I put the Jennings gag on her. She watched as I prepared the anal hook, inserted it and attached it to the gag holding her head up while pulling on her ass hole. It was a mixture of Hitachi and dildo that forced her to nearly pass out again. I untie her and we settle into a little closing orgasm. She screams, she moans, she hyperventilates and lays down against my chest afterwards to relax.

“You never did play with the psychological stuff” She was rubbing my chest as she whined about the missing piece. I just spent the last 3 ½ hours driving her mad and she is still looking for more. Insatiable cunt! I give her a minute to let the thought slide from her head and I turn on her.

You think you are so tough but you nearly passed out twice. Once was from orgasms. Orgasms! You keep talking like you are this insatiable slut constantly wanting more orgasms, more cock, more use and yet here you are trying to escape into unconsciousness. I turned her over and pulled her ass in the air and jammed my fingers in her. Her cunt is dry. What the fuck! I spit in her cunt and berate her with talk about how she is always bragging about how wet she is. How ready she is. She thought she could get away with big talk without being tested? She started to complain and argue. She wanted to tell me that she was wet but I shut her up by shoving her tit in her mouth. She started to let it fall and I smack her ass. She wanted to tell me she couldn’t do it and that was the opening. Excuses, excuses, excuses! All she had were excuses. She had spend the last two and a half months telling me how desperately she wanted to be dominated, how much she loved having tasks. She wanted to be told to do things that she thought were difficult, painful, disgusting because they were the things that I wanted and yet every time I gave her a task, she would come back with one reason or another as to why she could not do it, could not do it right. Yep, that did it. Face down bawling into the floor. I turn up the heat and force one last orgasm before letting her collapse into her own misery.

Cut to now, six weeks later. The urge is rising in her again and she emails looking for a time to play. The hunger to be taken apart, washed clean, made empty, whatever metaphor you want to give it, has reappeared. It always does.

Fear Factory

 

Fear comes it all sorts of forms. Fear of things, people, actions. There are valid fears and irrational phobias. There are fears that can be faced and fears that can be approached and fears that are so dark they’ll never be addressed. I have a co-worker that is afraid of large sinks. She refuses to use the bathroom in our warehouse and will hold it for as long as it takes to avoid having to come face to faucet with her phobia. I, on the other hand, like fear. To be more specific, I like other people’s fears. I like the way they react irrationally, the shortness of breath and the purely physical convulsions that seize the body. When you are playing with fear, there is something so powerful, so potentially malicious about how you are affecting the sub that it could easily become addicting.

She got off the train in my neighborhood at 9pm. I live in a rougher neighborhood, not the roughest by any stretch, but rough enough, and at 9pm when the weather is changing and people are running around happy to be out of the house, it can make a lone girl walking down the street uncomfortable. I usually pick up the sub to avoid hassles and to make better use of the time allotted us, but this time I had her walk. I followed her in my car and fed her directions by text.

Cross the street.

Turn left.

Walk down the alley.

Go into the open garage.

Strip.

The overhead light was out so as I shut the garage door on her, she was left in the dark.

I park the car around front and take a casual stroll to let her stand in the dark naked for a while. The thin metal garage door barely stops sounds so the chatter of people passing by makes her feel as if she is surrounded by the general public. One of the most interesting things I have found about public nudity is that it really depends on the crowd’s opinion. If you are in approving company, at a club or play party where it is accepted or even expected, being naked can be liberating. If you are in a general public environment, nudity can make someone very self-conscious. The sounds of people walking by made her nakedness an isolating thing. I stood outside the door for a moment listening to her breathing as she tried to hold still.

I burst in and her breathing immediately changed to more rapid, shallow breaths as I threw an oversized pillowcase over her head and upper body. I took two belts and strapped them tight around her chest and waist. The pillowcase itself was confining enough but the added constriction made her breathing even more labored. She was about to lose her shit and we had barely started!

I spun her around to face me and bent down to pick her up. I grabbed her by the waist and my fingers felt that her cunt was already soaked. I threw her over my shoulder and headed for the back stairs. The walkway from the garage to the stairs runs between our building and the next, which is an apartment complex. It was late at night and I rarely met people in passing but I moved quickly to avoid any questions that might come about from being seen carrying a girl in a bag into my house in the middle of the night. The last thing I need is for my neighbors to think that I am a serial killer.

We made it to the stairs without incident and were rounding the corner, out of sight when the sound of people passing by made me freeze in my tracks. I was not likely to be seen but I wanted to give her a moment to hear the people. I wanted her to think about us getting caught, about trying to explain to strangers that we were friends and this was just a game. The moment passed and I moved on. Up two flights of stairs and to my door, I put her down to walk into the house. I direct her to the room with one hand on her neck. In, around the bed, past the suspension frame and on to the mat she goes. I kick her in the back of the knees to make her collapse and leave her on her knees with her forehead touching the ground as I go back down to the garage to retrieve her clothes.

When I get back I fall upon her with punches and slaps, watching her wriggle and writhe in the bag. I pull on her hair through the case and bring the cloth in on her nose and mouth, increasing the feeling of suffocation as I growl in her ear. She is whimpering as I beat her chest and pound my forearm into her back. I pull off the first belt, fold it in half and spank her with it. She cries out in pain and pulls away. I hold her still and slap her again and again. I get bored of the belt and go back to punching and slapping, pulling and growling.

I wanted her to feel that she may have made a mistake by deciding to play. I wanted her to feel that she had no control even if she wanted it, that I held all the cards. She continued to moan and cry out as I beat her more and more. I reached down to take off the second belt and she immediately tensed up. She knew that as soon as the belt was off I was going to use it. She was flinching already as I worked the buckle and pulled it out from underneath her. I spanked her again and again listening to that most gratifying of sounds as the belt slap mixes with her cries of pain.

I grabbed her face and hold her nose and mouth, waiting for the panic, and just as she starts to thrash I let go. As she gasped for breath. I stood her up and wrapped my arms around her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. I released and the air flooded back into her lungs. Squeeze again, hold and release a couple more times to ensure she was lightheaded when I took the pillowcase off.

When she came out of the pillowcase, the first thing she noticed was the lighting. I had replaced the lamp bulb with a black light to screw with her senses. She is a very tactile person and to go from the enclosure where she was seeing almost exclusively with her body to being assaulted by the sharp, artificial contrast left her more confused. I took advantage of this to double down on the beatings that were now sharper without the fabric to soften the sting. I threw her back down and started moving her head back and forth by pulling hard on her hair. She was completely out of her head by now and, like a well-rested dough, she was ready to be worked over. One finger, then two, then three. I fucked with her cunt until she was begging to come. I pulled out and squeezed her thighs, reached over for the Hitachi and turned it on low as I went back in for another three-finger work out. She couldn’t hold it any longer and I let her cum, watching as she squirmed on the floor like a fish gasping air.

In the end it was a blast and what I learned about fear is that there are so many different kinds of fear, so many ways of scaring someone and invoking that gut response to terror. We definitely need to do this again… and again and again.

In the Name of Science: Light Therapy

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is no laughing matter and millions of people (including thousands of kinksters) are putting on their frowny faces as the Hurizzard of 2011 turns our brownstones into igloos. While wandering the perverted halls of Fetlife yesterday, I came across a fellow pervert whose picture inspired me.

The rules are simple. The room is prepared with heat and music to ensure a comfortable background. The subject was stripped and strung up. She is then blindfolded to reduce outside influences and gagged to keep her from disturbing the neighbors. All outside light is extiguished and the trigger light is set. The subject is unblindfolded to see the light but no verbal cues are given. The blindfold is replaced and the working lights are turned on. Depending on the color, action is taken. Red light is pain, green light is pleasure.

Start with red. Slappy, slappy. Scream. Cringe. Slap, sway, slap, scream, cower.

Red: Clamps. Moan, ruler slap, cry.

Green: Touch. Remove clamps. Run fingers over goose bumps. Her hands unclench a bit.

Red: Knife play. Stabby stabby, try to draw blood. Down the back, stripes carving up a piece of meat.

Green: Clitoral and anal stimulation.

Red: (audible moan when the light is seen) Butt plug. Thumper. Probably a little too hard on the thigh. Rib shot, breast shot. Hit the calves and watch as she swings.

Green: (visible relief) Remove the plug and use the Hitachi.

Red: (moan) Clothespins. Lots of clothespins

Red: (angry glare) Removing the clothespins with knife.

Green: (visible relief) Gentle removal of the remaining clothepins and the Hitachi.

The subject was nearly passed out by this point so I pulled her down for a post-experiment interview and sexytime. The pattern was obvious almost immediately and she could feel the tension building every time she felt a lull in the action. When asked if she started to try and predict what would be next, she said no, not intentionally. What she did was try and see around the corners of her blindfold. She looked for visual cues. I believe this is because of her need to experience another sensation other than touch. She also noted that while she knew almost instantly knew that green was good and red was bad, her brain never gave up on the possibility that I would switch up the order and punish her when the light was green. It seems that my own known sadism may have been the Schrodinger’s cat to this experiment, affecting the outcome merely by being the scientist.

What have we learned? We have learned the human mind can be trained but it can also be fucked with. The mind will over-think when stressed out. It will try and out-think its captors and therefore make the eaiest mindfuck by simply giving something predictable the potential to not be.