As part of the upcoming Slave Storage program, Mistress JessiBell has been using me as a test subject to get a more precise idea of what is and is not possible in long term bondage scenes. I consider myself privileged to be part of these experiments. Many times I forget large portions of what happened. I often have to refer to the recordings of the sessions to remember the sequence of events. This last series of tests, which I describe below, included some of the most intense experiences I have ever encountered. Bear in mind that we have been working up to this level for the last eight months. I generally need at least a day to recover afterward. Your mileage may vary.
The whole scene lasted several days--I’m not sure how many words it will take to describe. Consequently, I’ll be writing and publishing the scene in installments.
Hour 1: THE ARRIVAL
I arrived at the Walnut Creek BART station at 7pm. Jessi arrived soon after and drove us to dinner. Jessi was wearing a beautiful floor length dress from Wolford. She was attracting quite a lot of stares from passersby as we walked through downtown Walnut Creek. During dinner, among other things, we discussed possibilities for upcoming scenes, including the one which we would soon initiate. I am forever forgetting to speak quietly in public. From time to time, I would look up and notice that all the adjacent tables were listening in on our conversation.
Following dinner, we proceeded directly to Jessi’s dungeon. As per our normal routine, we pull out all the devices and implements required for the scene. I’ll bring a duffel bag with the few additional items not already in the dungeon. We’ll discuss how I’m feeling, what my current endurance levels are, how much sleep I got the night before, when the last time I had a meal was (in this case, not long ago). I normally switch to liquid diet 6-18 hours before a long scene. I may regret having eaten before embarking on this scene.
Hour 3: THE TESTS BEGIN
Jessi tells me to remove my clothes. This is how the scene normally begins. She motions me toward the bondage frame -- which is essentially a 4’x8’x7’ cube with numerous ringbolts, hoists, and pulleys. There is a chain running along the floor across the middle of the frame, from my left to my right. Jessi instructs me to stand in the center of the frame, with my feet just in front of the chain. She places locking rubber restraints on my ankles. She then secures the ankle restraints to the aforementioned chain with a pair of Master locks. I am now bound standing in the center of the bondage frame.
I am far enough from any side of the frame that I will not be able to lean or rest, and my ankles are bound sufficiently close that I can move them a only few inches either way, but I would not be able to maneuver myself into a sitting position without falling and possibly injuring myself. Fortunately, I can shift my weight from foot to foot, because I may be standing in this position for six to eight hours. I know this from experience.
Once she is satisfied that my feet are secure, Jessi goes to a nearby table and retrieves a pair of locking rubber wrist mitts. She places one on each wrist and locks them. For additional security, she places locking metal bracelets in front of the locking portion of the mitts. Jessi prefers the mitts to simple wrist restraints because the mitts render me unable to use my hands to signal distress or discomfort. I can snap my fingers, but inside of the mitts, they will be neither seen nor heard. Once the mitts are in place, my wrists are secured behind my back. I can no longer use my hands or arms to assist with balance in my forced standing position.
Wait... there’s more.
Jessi grabbed a length of chain from the floor and locked one end around my neck. The chain was just loose enough not to restrict breathing. She attached the other end of the chain directly above to the top of the bondage frame. The chain was not so tight as to choke me, but it would prevent me from bending over or bending my legs more than slightly.
After checking the noose chain to make sure that it was as she intended, Jessi grabbed an inflatable butterfly gag with attached harness from the table. She looked at me and said: “Any last requests?”
I replied: “You’re beautiful.”
“Yes, I am.”
Jessi then stuffed the butterfly gag in my mouth, and secured it with the locking strap around the back of my head. Additional straps went under my chin and over my head. The harness was custom-made by Mr. S after it was discovered that I was able to spit out the gag with the original harness. Jessi then locked all the straps (for her amusement, no doubt; it wasn’t like I was going to be able to raise my hands to undo them). Jessi then began to pump up the gag. She loves to look me in the eyes as she does this. This helps her gauge how much she can inflate the gag. It also gives her the opportunity to enjoy the growing distress in my eyes. Sometimes Jessi will pump up the gag until I choke, then hold it a bit before deflating. She often does this over and over again for half an hour or more. On this evening, she elected not to do so.
Now that I am entirely secured, Jessi retrieves her favorite single-tail whip from a nearby table.
“This is such a wonderful gift that you gave me. It is my favorite whip.”
“I regret that I can’t see the look in your eyes when I whip your ass and back, but I came up with a solution: I’m going to whip your belly and and chest instead. With the noose around your neck, you won’t be able to bend over. Your belly will be entirely exposed. I know it will be much more painful, but I’ll be able to see the pain in your eyes while I whip you, sweetie.”
Jessi began by striking my belly and sides from up close with the whip still coiled. She moved around me and struck different portions of my body. This, obviously, was a bit of warmup for what was to come. She continued with the strikes until I collapsed, leaning against her body. I was given a bit a rest, then she moved back to a distance, and uncoiled the whip.
The strikes were intense. It took me several strikes to regain my senses. Each strike would yield a muffled cry, then I’d look Jessi in the eyes, and send her the look that said, “Go ahead. Give me more.” Another strike. Another encouraging gaze. I knew that Jessi enjoyed whipping me, and I did not want to deny her this pleasure -- not that I was in a position to deny. The whipping went on for about ten to twelve minutes before she had her fill.
Jessi laid the whip down, walked up and whispered in my ear. She was close and I could smell her perfume. She said: “This is the part that I’ve been waiting for. This is going to be so much fun.”
Jessi knelt down and removed my chastity device. She placed the various pieces in a little bowl. She spent a few minutes examining my genitals to make sure that there was no damage from the last period of chastity, and then retrieved a small tube from the dungeon dresser.
“I love the idea of keeping you in chastity for a week, and then edging you. The problem is that you get a lot of pleasure from the edging -- even if I don’t permit you to have an orgasm. I’ve tried edging you with Icy Hot, but it wears off too quickly. Besides, you’re growing immune to its effects, sweetie. So tonight, I will use Capsaicin for our edging session. That way, I can ensure that you’ll remain hungry and horny, while denying you the pleasure of the edging. I’ll also get to hear you scream some more. It’s a win win win. Well, not for you, though.”
Although I couldn’t see it, I could hear Jessi putting latex gloves on. Soon after, she began to stroke my penis with the Capsaicin. This was not the first time Jessi had tried Capsaicin. The first time was when I spit the butterfly gag across the room. She was so moved by my cries and pleas that she decided to stop. With the rubber mitts and the improved harness for the gag, I would no longer have the opportunity to make my case.
Capsaicin on my genitalia is among the most painful sensations I have experienced. It ranks up there with the anesthesia wearing off during surgery. For the first thirty seconds, I feel the pleasure of being masturbated. Then, I start to feel a burning sensation. Within three minutes, I’m screaming continually at the top of my lungs. This will continue for five to ten minutes. My heart rate accelerates considerably and I have to make a conscious effort not to faint from hyperventilation. All the while, Jessi is looking me in the eyes, smiling and giggling. She encourages me to moderate my breath. Within five minutes, I am exhausted and dying to sit down, lay down, rest. Any attempt to move from my forced standing reminds me that there is a chain around my neck requiring me to stand upright and unsupported.
During such times, I don’t black out, but I lose track of everything except the pain. As the pain subsides, I return to my senses, somewhat. Jessi senses this and says: “Oh, sweetie, that was soo much fun. Are you ready for round two?”
"Unh-uh! Unh uh! Unh uh!" was the only sound that I could express, and I knew that it would have no effect. Jessi began again with a fresh dollop of Capsaicin. Dollop was an understatement. Fortunately, she had spared my testicles in the first application. She knew my body well, and clearly, she did not want the pain to be so intense that I fainted. The second application was every bit as bad as the first. Once again, my heart was racing. Moments like this made me thankful for walking the hills in San Francisco, and not hopping on the cable cars. Although the pain was every bit as intense, I was warmed up to it a bit, and better able to cope. Then Jessi said:
“I’m going to do your balls next... or what if I do your asshole instead? Can I fingerfuck you with Capsaicin lube, sweetie? It’ll be so much fun.”
At this point, I was unable to say "Unh-uh!” as I was once again screaming non-stop. Unlike the first time, Jessi continued to stroke after I began screaming. I hadn’t fully recovered from the first application. I was trying to disconnect, and simply focus on my breathing, but the Capsaicin was increasingly coming in contact with my testicles, yanking me back into the sphere of pain. I don’t remember the moment when Jessi stopped stroking, but I became aware that she had. This had only been going on for thirty minutes or so, but I was already feeling chills. I remember wishing that I could have had a sip of water.
“Ready for round three?”
I did my best make a pleading sound through the gag. I continued to make this sound even after Jessi had started stroking again. The stroking of my penis was becoming less scream-worthy, and in fact, a bit pleasurable. However, the capsaicin was starting to get on my testicles, which were much more sensitive, and this was beginning to distract me from any pleasure.
By the fourth round, I was no longer feeling pain on the shaft of my penis, and was hungry for her touch. Jessi noticed this and began to massage the Capsaicin into my scrotum. Any endorphins generated from the prior torment were insufficient to dilute the fresh waves of pain. All the while she was saying: “Let’s do your asshole next!”
I was becoming too exhausted to scream, but nevertheless did. I was now pulling against the chain around my neck, hoping that it would provide some support for my legs which were becoming rubbery. Jessi picked up on this and released my wrists from behind my back and then released the chain around my neck. She barely finished releasing my ankles before I collapsed on the floor. The gag was still in in my mouth. She sat down beside me and unlocked the harness which held the gag in place. My only words were:
“Thank you.”
HOUR 6: THE NEXT TEST
I probably laid on the floor for about 20-30 minutes. Jessi gave me something to drink from a straw. (My hands were still encased in mitts.) I was once again becoming aroused. One of the things that Jessi says she enjoys is that, no matter how much pain I am in, within fifteen minutes, I’m horny again. This was no exception. As soon as I sat up, Jessi pointed toward a robe in the corner of the room and a big bag of chains by the dresser.
“Put that robe on, and take those chains out to the shed.”
The shed behind Jessi’s is tiny. It’s so small that if you want to move a subject from a seated to a standing position, you have to first remove the chair. I was relieved to see the chair in the shed....
to be continued
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02.09.12