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.