Flight Security

That bitch is queer!  She enjoyed every second from seeing me take off my shoes to using that light to look up my pussy.  This was the first time I’ve flown since Master Rick put the rings in and I didn’t think.  I just did not think that two small rings in my pussy lips hooked by a mailbox lock would set off the metal detector.  Shit, was I wrong!  As I stood in line, I realized the rings and lock might set off an alarm, but I hoped panties, pantyhose, skirt, and holding my legs together would be enough.  Being pulled out of line and going through the whole routine with the wand was bad enough, but then I was taken by a female security agent to a private room.  I felt like every eye was on me and I knew where those eyes were looking, right at my crotch.  Another woman sitting at a desk in the small, clean, and brightly lit room told me what the law required and asked me to sign a form acknowledging my consent.  “Please place all your belongings on the table and remove all your clothing”, the statement was short, tactful, and embarrassing. 

I see Master Rick between one and two times each month to be dominated, tormented, and fucked.  With my perverted lusts and tight schedule I can’t just give a guy a long tongue kiss on my sofa and say, “why don’t you tie me up, beat my butt, and give me a good fuck?”  Believe me they just run out the door.  A girl or even a guy needs someone they trust to work her over without sending her to the hospital or worse.  I have been using the services of Master Rick for almost a year.  The charge is a hundred dollars a session, which lasts between three and four hours.  I tell myself paying for a man to use me is humiliating and I like humiliating, don’t I?  It is safer with Master Rick, he requires blood tests each month, and he is completely discreet.  He normally ties me to a table with my head hanging over the edge, cuts away most of my street clothes, slaps my body around, and ejaculates in my mouth.  Then, he ties me up to an overhead beam, whips me, and calls me awful names while I cry and beg for release. 

Two months ago he pierced my pussy lips with a large hot sterile needle placing stainless steel rings in each hole secured with a drop of solder.  The half-inch heavy steel rings nest across from each other about a third of the way down my pussy hole.  It hurt like hell as he pushed the hot needle through my tender flesh.  I would have screamed at the top of my lungs except for the ball gag, so all I did was shake, cry, and hope he would change his mind.  I had begged him on my knees and in letters for weeks to pierce my pussy in just this painful way.  After he finished and I settled down, I sucked his cock while thanking him. 

He would put tight straps around my thighs using the rings to pull my lips open with fishing line.  After an hour of my pussy being pulled painfully apart, he would molest me, or slap my available clitoris, or poke me with an ice-cold darning needle.  Three weeks ago at the end of our last session, he attached the lock.  He said if I want sex to send my partner, man or woman, over to “borrow” the key.  It was degrading having my sexual activity controlled by Master Rick, but until I arrived at the airport, it was merely a private joke.

I don’t think I could have felt any worse if I had been gang raped by bikers then when the woman told me to remove my panties.  She stared at my locked up vagina then looking me in the eye, asked,  “ what is it?” I said, “Jewelry!”  I was asked to lie on the table, lift my knees, and spread my legs so she could look inside!  I thought about asking to see their privacy policy, but wanted to get it all over with as soon and as easy as possible.  She looked up my pussy with a tiny bright light and decided that a full cavity search was not required.  I wondered if she was going to look up my ass as well.  I was then told to get dressed and I needed to rush or I would miss my plane.  I thought every eye was looking at me as I walked on to the plane and found my seat.  I did not calm down until I drank half of the second canned vodka martini.  On Friday, in three days, I will need to go through the whole mess again with some other bitch before my return flight. 

E-mail: b_d_s_m@HOTMAIL.COM

10.01.03