Melting Point

Mistress Shannon is obviously upset with me.  And I suppose that she has good reason to be.  She had a collection of candles that she used for her sessions with submissive clients.  Many of them like having hot wax dripped on their bodies and on their sex organs in particular.  And even if they don’t, they will almost certainly get to sample the hot sensation anyway.  A couple of hours ago while cleaning the dungeon I broke a shelf that held many bottled candles, and that shelf went crashing down into another shelf of candles, and that in turn exploded into a third and then a fourth.  I suppose that I broke about a hundred bottles of candles.

It’s not entirely fair, though.  At the time of the incident, my motion was severely restricted by a special leather training corset that extended from just below my tits down to my knees.  Only my ass cheeks were uncovered by the nasty thing.  And it was so incredibly tight.  She really didn’t have to pull the cords like she did.  To put the garment on me, I was hung from a bar suspended from the ceiling so I could be more effectively stretched and fit into the deliciously sexy corset.  After knotting the cords off Mistress Shannon let me hang there for an hour or so, and then she returned and pulled them even tighter! 

But the restriction of the damned corset wasn’t the worst part.  There was a huge vibrator in my pussy.  It is a monstrous thing with a curved shape.  A second vibrator, which I call ‘the Beast,’ was stuffed painfully up my ass.  It is a huge bulbous affair consisting of three, increasingly larger, co-axial conical cylinders with several wickedly designed ridges and a thin probe at the end that wiggles when the vibrator is turned on, tickling me from the insides.  There is a neck below the last cone that is connected to a wide base that keeps the whole thing from disappearing forever in my bung hole.  The whole thing looks like a small, black Christmas tree. 

She pushes in the first cone until my sphincter pops around the wider part of the stiff rubber cone.  The muscle clamps down on the narrowest part of the next cone.  Then she pushes in the second, fatter cone until my sphincter and I are both screaming from the pain because my hole just doesn’t stretch that far.  Again, my asshole swallows the fat end of the second as it clamps down on the neck of the third cone, and finally she forces -- with considerable effort – the monstrous third cone through my unwilling opening.  The round neck that is connected to the flat base is actually larger in diameter than the widest part of the first cone, and so my asshole remains very painfully distended and stuffed.  An embedded screw tightens the whole thing, making it shorter and fatter.  But most importantly, it flattens the bottom of the last cone and pulls it closer to the flat base so my asshole can’t expand over it until the entire thing is unscrewed, and even then I need help to remove it.  But until it comes out, it feels like a huge turd is stuck in my poop chute, half in and half out, and I can’t make it move either way to get more comfortable.

The two invaders are held in place by a niggardly strap that slices me down the middle.  The thick cowhide strap runs from the inside of the corset in the front, down through my legs and up through the cheeks of my ass, forcing them apart at the same time that the corset is trying to force them together.  The net result is that my ass cheeks are forced farther out than normal, making them much more susceptible to -- and inviting of -- my Mistress’s punishments.  (She relishes spanking my bum with her bare or gloved hand, and I really don’t mind that too much as it makes me hotter down there; however, Mistress says that the effect of the corset makes my ass a perfect, tempting target for her awful cane!  I love everything about my beautiful Mistress.  I love the way that she cares for me and how she humiliates and torments and binds me, but I really HATE that cane!)

In many ways the stiff, leather foundation is really a form of body binder.  The stays are made of steel and extend all the way from the top, just below my breasts, down to the bottom, just a few centimeters above my knees, making it quite impossible to bend or sit while wearing the undergarment.  In addition, my waist is so highly constricted that I am in a constant state of physical duress.  Breathing is also hindered at the same time that my physical motion is constrained by the stays and thick material.  It was a very painful form of restraint, but one that I truly loved.  Although I was in constant agony while wearing it, the corset gave me a much sexier shape, squeezing my waist down to a scrumptiously narrow size while pushing up my breasts, which I had augmented for my Mistress’ pleasure.  Three operations and a rigorous hormone regime brought me from a C cup to a DD to an F and finally to an H.  My nipples were also enhanced along the way, but Mistress Shannon’s daily use of a suction device on them and an increasing number of stretching rings has made them as big as my thumb and as sensitive as my clit.  (Since I never wear anything other than a shelf bra or rope or leather harnesses, they always look quite tempting in my tight leotards or stretch tops.)

Over the corset, I wore a lovely but very embarrassing French maid’s dress.  It was a bit atypical for a couple of reasons.  The first is that the cute little thing is made of satiny smooth, pink latex with white ruffled trim.  Another unusual aspect of the dress is that the wickedly short skirt has zippered slits on both sides so it is an easy matter to lift either the front section or the rear; small snaps embedded in the ruffles of the skirt and waist of the dress allow the skirt to be held up without assistance whenever necessary, providing totally unencumbered access of my ass or my sex.  Very clever and charming.  (That was my contribution to the design, and it pleased Mistress immensely.)  My full-length rubber opera gloves and matching stockings, which can be zipped together are black and offer a nice contrast to the soft pink and white of the dress and my high-heeled shoes.  And the last major point about the dress is that the bodice is so low cut that it leaves my beautiful breasts completely exposed for whatever games my sweet brunette Empress might have in mind.

Well, Mistress Shannon is a dominatrix extraordinaire whose specialty is bondage.  Consequently, I was partially bound while attempting to clean house.  Starting at the top and working down: I was silenced with a very rigid dildo gag.  (Mistress wants me to suck on it continuously when it is in my mouth as it is there to punish me; and it is a dastardly discipline as I am a true disciple of Sapphos.  My lover is always taunting me with threats that she will bring me into a session sometime and force some male to shove his ugly prick into one or both of my holes, or make me suck him off until he comes in my mouth.)  When she ordered me to do so, I opened my mouth wide for the unwelcome invader.  Her dark brown eyes sparkled with delight at my acquiescence as she knows how much I despise that awful dong.  Mistress’ smile is so disarming and warming.  She lovingly brushed a few stray hairs back on my forehead with her soft, gentle fingers.  My Mistress is so considerate of my comfort and discomfort.  She smiled again and playfully kissed the tip of my nose, tickling it lightly with her tongue.  Mistress has a perfect nose (actually, her whole face is that of a Goddess), and she knows that I am terribly jealous of it because my nose is definitely too big for my face, a cruel punishment of genetics which she has refused to allow me to correct.

Straps over and around my head kept the hated thing buried deep in my mouth, and padlocks prevented me from removing it.  The gag harness also had attached blinders so my vision was restricted to only those things directly in front of me.  This was a definite disadvantage while performing my duties.  The irony of the harness was that it hid my lovely make-up almost completely, and I thought that I had done a particularly inviting job this morning when I prepared myself for her.  My hair had been carefully curled and brushed, too, but my Mistress rearranged it in a ponytail, which turned out to be an advantage as it was out of the way when she pulled those straps tight behind and over my head.  (The straps put ugly crimps in my hair, and it usually takes hours to brush them out!)

I have multiple piercings, both because I think it looks kinky cool, and because each hole in my body gives Mistress Shannon a little bit more flexibility in tormenting me.  And I love to be tormented by her!  This time she took advantage of my ear piercings in a couple of ways.  First was that she made me wear my favorite earrings.  I call them my favorite, but that is only because they are so unusual.  They are quite lovely, but incredibly annoying.  They are tiny silver chimes which ring constantly in my ears at the slightest motion of my head.  It drives me batty!  In addition, my clever lover attached fine, silver chains from some of my other holes to points on my stiff posture collar.  The leather collar is made by the same company that produces that wonderfully awful corset, and like the corset, it has steel stays to reduce mobility of my head.  Attaching it to my ears and my two nose rings via chains is wickedly ingenious.  The very limited amount of flexibility granted me by the neck corset is completely canceled by the stress on my ears and nose.  If I twist or nod my head in any way, as my Mistress compels me to do to answer her questions, the chains pull on those sensitive appendages which results in awful pain and the maddening tinkle of those delicate chimes in my ears.  She can be rather wicked that way.

My boobs were bound with a chest harness that consisted of a large number of straps.  The main straps were a pair of three centimeter wide ones that encircled each of my globes.  The device was made for me when I was a DD so forcing my tits into the loops always took quite a bit of time and effort.  Because my breasts have been stretched so much by the surgeries and because of the frequent use of my nipples, I find this process to be quite exasperating.  If Mistress didn’t have me strung up by the corseting bar, I would have attacked her in a frenzy of lust.  As it was, I tried to grab her with my legs, but that damned corset made it impossible for me to bend my legs enough to catch hold of her.  She punished me for that by tying my ankles together and then securing them to rings in the floor.  I was thus rendered totally immobile.  And that just made me hotter and hornier!  Then she went back to the job of binding my boobs.  When she was finished harnessing them, they stood straight out from my chest, two swollen melons pinched too tightly at the base to allow them to sag under their own weight.  And speaking of weights, Mistress finished off the lovely binding by clipping my nipples with a pair of nasty screw-on vice clamps to which she attached a dreadful, ping pong ball sized pair of lead weights.  I was already trembling from the clamps when she showed me the weights.  I cringed as I knew that she was going to drop each one to maximize my agony.  My dark-haired lover knows what triggers my lust, so when I screwed my eyes shut to prepare myself for the inevitable pain, she surprised me by yanking off both clamps instead of dropping the weights as I expected.  The rush of blood back into the compressed buds made me groan and tremble from the beautiful pain. 

Then she started to suck my right nipple, squeezing the boob with both hands while her tongue massaged my abused nip.  I was lost in bliss in mere seconds.  It was such a pleasing torment!  She repeated her tender adoration of my other nipple.  I closed my eyes as the wonderful feelings in my chest started to expand as waves of sexual warmth and energy that insinuated into other parts of my body.  I wanted her to touch me down there, but she only held me close in her arms as she lovingly kissed my captive breasts and sucked on those nipples, swirling her tongue around the tender sensitive, rigid buds, brushing it up and down, sending bolts of electricity through me as she sucked out the agony.  It all felt so delicious and pleasurable that I didn’t even realize that Mistress had reattached the nasty vice clamps.  Had I not been gagged, I would have been quite obscene.  I also would have begged her for much more.  But the gag denied me that opportunity.  However, I could still shriek through the thick muzzle, and that is precisely what I did when Lady Shannon suddenly and without warning, dropped the massive balls.  Because of her sweet nursing of my nips, they were now much more sensitive and swollen; additionally, my flaming libido was at a peak, so when she dropped the weights, the effect was precisely the same as if she had just rammed her electric body massager against my clit.

The shock was so devastating that I couldn’t breathe for several long minutes.  And although my eyes had popped wide open, I couldn’t see anything but red.  It was such a wicked, unexpected trick, that it made me climax although the vibrators weren’t even turned on yet.  And despite the tightness of the bonds that held me in place, I shook violently, both from the shock of the unanticipated pain as well as from the overwhelming strength of my climax.

I don’t know how long it took me to calm down, but when I finally came back to reality, I was no longer hanging from the suspension bar.  Instead, I was lying on a leaning bench that we used in conjunction with the training corset.  It provided me with a way of lying down without the problems associated with getting up that would have been an issue if I was flat on the ground.  While I had been drifting out of the clouds of my orgasm, Mistress Shannon completed my bondage.  My arms were bound at the wrists and elbows.  A padlock connected the two wrists together, and a chain connected them to my collar.  My biceps were encircled with tight bands of leather just above the elbow and were connected together by a chain behind my back, severely restricting my degree of free motion.  I noted that the chain to the collar prevented me from dropping my hands down to my crotch so I couldn’t bring myself off.  I already knew from past experience that I can’t get enough stimulation in the right places by rubbing against something in the dungeon that happened to be at the right height for clitoral stimulation.  The leather in that area was simply too thick.  (Coincidence?  I think not!)

In addition, my knees and ankles were hobbled with stiff leather-covered steel bars.  It makes walking difficult at best.  In fact, it also hurts quite a bit because the knee spreader pushes my legs apart with an inexorable force on the inside of my knees while my wonderful corset simultaneously crushes them together.  But I could tell without even looking in the mirror behind Mistress on the wall that my situation was much worse than that.  Before my climax, I had been wearing conventional high-heeled pumps (well, as conventional as latex shoes with 5 inch heels can be), but now my feet were already cramping from those infernal ballet boots that my Mistress loves to see me prance around in.  They hurt like hell, and walking is incredibly difficult although practice has enabled me to gain a reasonable sense of balance in the shoes.  I could tell from the tight embrace of my slender legs that she had at least used the calf-high boots rather than the shoes.  The boots, fortunately, provide my ankles with some support which is totally absent when wearing the shoes.  A minor consolation perhaps, but an important one considering the restricted use of my hands and arms!  Maintaining my balance, I knew, was going to be an endless, unendurable battle.  (Even daily exercise is inadequate preparation for the torment and strain associated with walking in ballet-toed shoes or boots for even a short interval, but at the time I really didn’t give that much thought.)

As Mistress helped me to stand up, she said that the shoes were punishment for coming without permission.  I was still high from my climax, so at that moment anyway, I didn’t really care.  Then she ordered me to dust and polish the wood furniture and shelving, dust the ornaments and decorations, and clean all the remaining things in the dungeon.  She directed my attention to a small table upon which sat a feather-duster, a box of clean rags and a couple cans of Endust spray polish.  She asked me if I understood; I looked back at her and grunted that I did.  (Oddly, that was the first time that I had noticed that she had changed clothes.  Instead of wearing a tight, black leather bustier, she was now wearing a stunning, crimson, very low cut mini-dress.  Mistress has a beautiful body because she exercises all the time, as I do, but she usually manages to do better at her stretching exercises than I do because I’m almost always bound while we perform our calisthenics or dance aerobics.  The consequence is that she has a really curvaceous bod that makes me hunger for sex with her all the time.  And the dress that she was wearing showed off all her curves to great advantage: narrow waist, full hips, firm breasts, and perfectly chiseled legs.  Her stiff nipples strained against the thin satin fabric.  It was obvious that her only undergarment was a garter belt to hold up her black stockings!  I was distracted by the thought that she might be going out with another girl while I was stuck here in the dungeon, and that really hurt.) 

Mistress brought me back to reality by pinching my right nipple between the sharp nails of her thumb and fore-finger.  She insisted that she couldn’t understand me; she ordered me to shake my head either up and down or from side to side.  I nodded feebly.  She pretended not to notice and reiterated her demand for me to shake my head in response.  I repeated the gesture, which sent blades of pain through my nose and ear lobes, and those nasty weights on my nipples swung back and forth, tugging mercilessly on my still sensitized, swollen buds.  Again that was not to her satisfaction, so I had to repeat the gesture one last time with some vigor, and that really hurt, but at least it finally met with her approval.  When she told me to tell her if I needed anything else, all I could manage was an unintelligible ‘mmmph’.  She smiled devilishly at me, gave me an affectionate kiss on the cheek, and informed me that she would be back in the evening to inspect my work.  My desperate plea came out as a useless grunt that was ignored.  My statuesque lover in the backless red gown turned to exit through the door.  And then she was gone.

After she left the room, I heard the key lock click the latch shut followed immediately by the hammer of the deadbolt.  I was not going anywhere until the job was finished!  I shuffled over to the table and reached down for the feather-duster.  I eeked through my muzzle, and then tried one more time.  I shrieked again, although not from pain this time.  The tools that I needed to use to clean the room were below my reach!  I made numerous attempts to bend over sufficiently to grab either the rags or the duster, but it seemed truly hopeless.  I stamped my feet in anger and frustration, and barely caught myself in time by shifting my weight so I tilted into the wall with a thud.  If I had fallen over, it would have been impossible for me to stand again.  It took a few moments for me to get back into a standing position.  I stared at those simple household tools, that I had used so many times before and started to cry.

Crying was a bad thing to do.  I got a runny nose, so I tried to lift my arms up to my nose to wipe it.  It was then that I discovered that the elbow chain was not the only thing restricting my upward arm movement.  There was a chain that I hadn’t noticed before that extended down to my knee hobbles.  This was ridiculous.  How on earth was I supposed to clean the room if I couldn’t use the items that she left for me because I couldn’t lower my arms?  And how could I clean the items on shelves if I couldn’t reach upwards?

And that is when it suddenly occurred to me that she wouldn’t make it impossible.  The game is much more fun if the task is mentally challenging as well as physically.  So she must have left me with devices to use to accomplish the task, albeit in a highly handicapped, difficult fashion.  I discovered that my arms were not so completely restricted as to prevent access to some of the storage drawers.  I finally found a useful device: a pair of long-handled ball crushers.  I could use them to lift all of the cleaning items on the table and put them on another table that was not below my grasp!

A few minutes later, I was happily dusting the room when I received another, different kind of shock.  The vibrator in my ass suddenly started its buzzing, and it was quite distracting.  The Beast has an extremely powerful vibrator, and it’s effectiveness is amplified by the tickler probe which was actually designed to drive men crazy by stimulating their prostate from the inside.  The wicked device is almost capable of making me climax without vaginal or nipple stimulation.  The important word in that last sentence is “almost.”  I get very stimulated … and very frustrated.  Anyway, I grabbed hold of a chair to steady myself as I got closer to that zone of bliss.  My eyes were already a bit defocused when the buzzing stopped.  I started to cry again.  Mistress Shannon was going to drive me insane if that happened too many times while I was trying to work.  And I was quite certain that it was going to happen much more often than I could tolerate.

I took a few moments to compose myself, and then resumed my task.  It was then that the other vibrator started to tease me.  The vibe in my pussy is a work of art.  Besides being so huge that it truly fills a girl up -- far more than any guy could ever hope to -- it is also a creation of the devil.  Well, his daughter at least!  The interesting controller makes it do different things at different times.  The Mistress was once an electrical engineer and designed the devilish thing herself.  Most vibrators can be varied in intensity, but hers also changes the frequency.  The low frequency humming is the worst since it feels so good, but it just doesn’t provide enough energy to drive a girl over the top, no matter how intense it is.  In addition, Mistress can make the thing pulse with vibrations for several seconds and then stop, or vary the frequency: high, low, high, low.  That one really drives me crazy.  The worst part is that it can be controlled remotely or set to run a random program.  She said that she calls one of the built-in programs “instant insanity” because the vibrator has a couple of built-in sensors to detect pulse rate, pressure (due to contractions of the vagina), and temperature.  The program runs indefinitely, changing its rhythm to keep a girl’s heart rate from getting either too low -- a nonstimulated state -- or too high -- stimulated enough to achieve either a climax or a heart attack.  At the moment, of course, I had no way of knowing whether my beloved was personally controlling my fate, or if she had elected to put the device into its random mode of operation.  Either way, I knew that I was in for a helluva a hard time as the two vibrators would provide a great deal of stimulation and excitement, and that would be extremely disabling as I simply wouldn’t be able to work when things got really intense.

There is no clock in the dungeon so a girl who is all trussed up has no way to account for the intervals that pass when she is in the throes of sexual provocation.  The two devices seemed to be set up so that only one was on at a given time.  The pussy vibe was really cruel.  It seemed to be working to drive me to higher and higher states of excitement.  But each time that I thought that I was going to explode the device cut out, leaving me to tremble in frustration.  Because of prior stimulation, I was able to take a little bit more each time, slowly increasing my threshold for pleasure.  The problem with that is that my need for an orgasm grew miserably greater.  Unfortunately, as my acceptance of each new plateau was achieved, it meant that I was stimulated by the vibrators in more complex fashions for longer periods of time.  I wasn’t really sure how much time Mistress would allow me to clean the room, but I had a feeling that I would never be able to finish it at this rate!  There actually was an advantage in all that stimulation for me; it distracted me from the pain in my legs and feet, which was steadily getting worse.  The vicious pain in my boobs and nipples, however, was something that distracted me from the pleasure inside.  I tried to shut the agony out through diligent mental effort, but – ironically -- the delirious thrill in my pussy kept me from being able to completely black out the pain.  I was thus continuously aware of all of the physical sensations in my sexual centers, and that made it a bit difficult to concentrate on my cleaning task.  Even though I was getting continuously hotter, because of both the sexual stimulation and the tight leather and rubber garments, I was at least comfortable in the room because Mistress had thoughtfully turned on the air conditioner before she left.  The gentle, cool breeze felt nice on my ass which was uncovered because Mistress Shannon had chosen to leave the rear flap of my dress snapped up.

Eventually, I finished the simple dusting with the feather-duster.  I even figured out how to reach the higher points in the room by taping the duster to a cane using some duct tape.  After only a couple of minutes of cleaning with the dust rag and the Endust, it became clear that this part of the job was going to take much longer.  I had only cleaned a chair and a couple of shelves, but I had been interrupted by the pussy vibe half-a-dozen times.  At this point I couldn’t even stop trembling because of the almost ceaseless buzzing in my pussy.  I was ready to claw the walls down to find something that I could use to bring myself off.  But I also discovered that I now had a very real problem because of my limited reach.  There were items that I knew had to be cleaned, but I couldn’t reach them.  After all, I couldn’t put the spray can on the end of a cane and actually make it work.  And even if I could spray the items at a higher level, I needed to wipe them down afterwards.

In frustration, I leaned back against the door and surveyed the room.  It was a bit difficult to concentrate on the possible use of objects within my reach because that awful vibrator started to buzz inside me again.  This time it was a series of pulses that kept changing in intensity and frequency.  I was sure that I was going to finally come as I could feel the walls of my pussy contracting.  I knew that I was soaking wet down there, and it all felt so damned good!  I turned around and squeezed the doorknob, forcing myself to rub my burning nipples against the door for that extra little bit of stimulation, even though it hurt beyond words to do that.  But suddenly the vibrator changed its pace entirely.  It didn’t actually stop, but the sensations were so different, it distracted me just enough that I slipped a little bit from that peak.  Once again I sobbed in frustration.  Mistress could be so wonderfully cruel at times!

Nnnnh!!!  I eeked through the gag.  I pounded my head against the wall, and I rubbed my breasts against it even faster, but I knew that it was too late.  The threshold was too high, and I just wasn’t going to be able to stimulate myself via pain to that level.  So I just held onto the doorknob and cried for a long time.  It was only when I stopped crying that I realized something: the vibrator was still humming away inside me, but its intensity hadn’t changed for quite a while.

The low-level buzz felt good, but it was quite tolerable to work that way.  I discovered a half-concealed tilt base beneath a table; with considerable effort I was able to move it out from underneath the bench using my feet.  Moving something like that tilt base with high-heeled shoes of any kind would have been difficult, but doing it while wearing ballet-toe boots was particularly hard and frustrating.  However, despite the cramps in my legs and ache in my feet, I was ultimately successful.  It wasn’t very hard to position it to allow me access to a higher shelf once it was completely out from under the bench.  And during all of that effort, the vibe kept humming along at pretty much the same speed.  I wondered if the controller broke somehow.  I’m not an electrical person so I don’t know how those things work, but it seemed like a reasonable hypothesis.

Unfortunately, I discovered only after I had agonizingly inched up to the top of the tilt base that the vibrator still had a mind of its own.  I had just sprayed the top shelf of candle bottles when the vibrator said hello in a very dramatic way.  The intensity shot up to a level that I hadn’t experienced before, and the pattern seemed intent on driving me crazy with carnal desire.  The frequency zoomed up and down.  Then it stopped suddenly, and then went through a staccato of delightful bursts.  The pattern kept changing.  I had to grab the shelf for support.  I was absolutely certain that this time I would erupt like a volcano.  Instead, I discovered that I needed more stimulation than ever before.  As intense as it all was, it just wasn’t enough.  I was positively screaming into my cock gag, biting down on it.  (It’s fortunate that I was only sucking on a dildo gag!)  I tried squatting a tiny bit, hoping that I could rub the crotch strap against my clit, which it completely covered.  But I simply couldn’t bend enough in that devious corset.  I was burning up inside my leather and rubber clothing, and tears were streaming from my eyes as I tried to will myself over the precipice.  The alternating pattern was disorienting and exasperating.  I barely had enough prescience to realize that I might have somehow stumbled into “instant insanity” mode.  The program was driving me up to the edge, and then easing me down a little bit, then slowly it would go back up.  Each new peak of stimulation was slightly higher than the previous one, but I still found myself only at the edge.  I knew, no, I prayed that this couldn’t go on forever.  I was at a higher sexual fever than I had ever been in my life, and it was still insufficient to give me relief.  Clearly the ride to the edge was like a drug addiction; each time you need a little bit more.  But unlike drug addiction which is spread over a long time period, this growing desperation was all happening in an interval that had gone from hours down to mere minutes in a very short period of time. 

The vibe seemed to stabilize for a little while.  I was getting used to it, but that was probably how the program was designed.  Eventually, there would be a point where my required level of stimulus was simply beyond the power level of the vibrator, and I would be stuck there.  It was a horrible thought.  Perhaps I had already been conditioned to need something more than the vibrator could provide.  Oh, Mistress, please don’t leave me here like this!  I can’t take any more! 

And then the worst of all possible fates.  The vibrator stopped completely.  I realized it immediately as I was trying to suck out its energy; I was squeezing it as hard as I could with my pussy.  And then there was nothing.  Unhhhh! I shrieked in helpless exasperation.

That is when the completely unexpected occurred.  The Beast began to buzz again.  At full intensity.  Although it wasn’t as strong as the buzzer in my pussy, the redirected sense of pleasure acted like an explosive firing cap.  I suddenly found myself sucked into a vortex of sexual euphoria unlike anything that I had ever known before.  ERUPTION!  I was rocked with an orgasm that was so powerful, so completely overwhelming that my entire body orgasmed.  It burst from my pussy with a ferocity that would have scared off an attacking Bengal tiger.  Every single muscle in my body spasmed with wave after wave after wave of undreamt of pleasure.  The world ceased to exist for me as I reached the pinnacle of sexual delight.  I discovered nirvana; I had become the female Buddha.  Nothing else mattered except for that “O”.  I am certain that I had a true sexual seizure; I can’t even guess at how long it lasted, but I know that it seemed to last forever.  It was certainly longer than anything that I had ever experienced before.  How long did it take me to stop shaking?  I don’t know and don’t care.  Time was meaningless and irrelevant.  I had reached the zenith of sexual pleasure.  Nothing else could ever be the same again!!!

As I crashed to the ground, overwhelmed by the incomprehensible intensity of my orgasm, I instinctively reached out and grabbed a shelf.  It was a pointless gesture as my legs had turned into pudding.  It wasn’t even a conscious thought as my mind was lost in the swirls of my orgasm.  The shelves had been neatly arranged.  It almost looked like a rainbow: blue and violet candles on the top shelf, green on the second shelf, yellow and orange on the third, and red on the bottom.  But I shattered the harmony of the rainbow, mixing all of the colors together in a visual cacophony as the shelves cascaded down onto each other.  No doubt it was the explosion of a 100 glass bottles shattering against each other and on the floor that brought my Mistress back to me.  But at that moment – at that totally timeless moment – I didn’t care at all; I was lost in the most heavenly, most blissful state in this world or any other.  And for me, that was the ONLY thing that mattered.
 
 

story continues in Melting Point pt 2

o0o