I went to Maggie’s for another weekend of bondage bliss. It was very hot and instead of relaxing on the patio for a bit, she decided it would be much better if we went into the living room and before too long I was:
Kneeling, my ankles were tied to my thighs, my arms were behind my back with my wrists tied towards their opposite elbows, there were several ropes above and below my breasts and they were cinched between my arms and sides. More rope was tied between my breasts in front, pulled fairly tight, and then brought over my shoulders and somehow wound between the ropes on my wrists so they were also cinched. I was able to wriggle and move my hands and fingers but there weren’t any knots I could reach so there was no way I could get my hands loose.
A blindfold was buckled on that covered my eyes and had a hole in it so that it went over my nose and the fur (?) that is on the inside of the blindfold prevented me from seeing anything, including any light. No matter how I twisted my head I could not see a thing and, to make matters worse, my hair was in a ponytail and rope was braided in it and then pulled down to the ropes behind my back. If I weren’t blindfolded I would probably see the ceiling and not much else.
My knees were spread by a bar (a wooden dowel) that was tied to them so I was unable to close them and my puss, even though I was still wearing panties, was totally accessible and, because of how far apart they were the best I was able to move was to sort of slide a little bit but that was such a useless effort I stopped trying.
My blouse was unbuttoned and my bra was pulled above my breasts. My breasts are small but my nipples, even when they are not teased/tortured, are quite large and the extremely tight clamps she put on them were causing me a lot of pain and whenever I moved the clamps shook too and the pain increased, a lot.
The ball gag was tightened more than necessary and the straps were digging into the corners of my mouth. With my head pulled back I had a lot of difficulty trying to swallow and there was nothing I could do about all the drooling that I could feel going down my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, most likely my breasts and more than likely, the floor.
With the ball pressing down on my tongue I was not able to say too much that was easily understood but even though most words (in my mind) were easily understood (they were not understood by Maggie, or so she said) and, unless I used my safety, nothing was going to change my ability to communicate with her.
Last, but not least, my birthday present, a remote controlled vibrator, was in my puss and was held there by both my panties and a crotch rope, my skirt (I imagined) was pulled up by the rope so that the crotch rope could be tied. The vibrator is connected to my phone and while I imagined her comfortably lounging on the couch watching me I was paying much more attention to what it was doing to me as it turned on and off, sometimes all too softly and sometimes all too hard, but never long enough for me to orgasm.
I heard her laugh and imagined her smiling down at me. I wished she would get up and touch me. I moaned, groaned, wriggled, squiggled, shook and quaked, but never enough. Tears of pain flowed and no matter how much I tried to beg her, to plead with her, she did nothing to ‘help me’.
There were times when the vibrator stopped and I felt ‘empty’. I needed it to tease me, to get me over the bump in the road preventing me from coming. Exhausted I sat, dripping, nipples on fire and just as I was about to (sort of) relax she turned the beast on again.
My hips were no longer able to move much, my thighs, spread as they were, hurt too. I was afraid I was going to fall backward or sideways or somehow lean forward, even my neck was hurting.
I tried begging so many times but it was useless, all I received was nothing more than (ugh) laughter.
Then three things happened. First, I felt her next to me and, after using a cloth to wipe my face, she kissed my nose, my lips, my neck and, second, as I began to respond she moved her hands to my nipples and before I realized what she was doing both clamps were taken off and I screamed.
The pain was more than I had felt in a long time, excruciating, I lost control of my body and shook and cried and screamed some more and then, third, the vibrator was turned on and with her hand over my mouth and her other arm tight across my chest to hold me against her I literally exploded.
My hips gyrated, my nipples, now crushed by her arm, were nothing more than a pair of overly sensitive lightning bolts sending painful signals through me, to my puss, and when I came my body stiffened, I was suddenly humping my hips and as each spasm hit me I not only became weaker but continued to cry and beg. It was like I was somehow magically transported from hell to heaven.
When she let go of me and stopped the vibrator, I leaned against her, crying, sobbing, thanking her in a garbled speech even I didn’t understand and when she cut the rope from my hair letting me move my head it felt so good I cried some more and moved so I could rest my face on her shoulder.
My nipples were so tender I was afraid to even see what they looked like. My legs, still bent, were so sore I didn’t know if I would be able to get up and walk. My body felt twisted and the pain was not subsiding quickly enough for me. I needed to be untied and without my having to beg her Maggie was already cutting me loose. She didn’t bother trying to untie the ropes. She cut them and when my legs were free she helped me straighten them out and massaged them. My arms too were cut loose and she massaged them as well.
Finally she took the gag out (I had to help her) and as she dried my face I managed to get the blindfold off and, looking up into her eyes, I told her how much I loved her and how much I loved what she did to me.
After holding and kissing me she had me take the vibe out of my puss and after helping me undress she took me to the bathroom and put me in the tub. The warm water washed over me and it felt wonderful. She told me she would be back in a little while to help me out of the tub and when she left I watched her walk away and touched my nipple. It hurt, it was so sensitive I almost stopped touching it. I looked at them and they were scrunched like old grapes. But even with the pain they felt so good when I touched them that I couldn’t stop and as I became more and more “turned on” and my hand floated down to my puss and in just a few seconds I was in heaven.
I rested in the water until Maggie came back. The water had started to cool but it was so relaxing I didn’t care. I was happy.
I thought about the pain. I thought about the seemingly endless frustration of being denied any (sexual) release. My eyes wandered to the rope marks on my arms and thighs, I didn’t realize just how hard I had struggled. I thought of how Maggie kissed me. How she held me. I was happy.
After helping me out of the tub she dried me and even blow dried my hair. Then, taking me in her arms she held me, kissed me and it felt so wonderful I didn’t want her to stop touching me. Without a word she smiled, took my hand, and led me toward her bed.
I thought we were going to make love but I was wrong. On the bed I saw my clothes laid out and just after she gave me a playful slap on my bottom she told me to get dressed and be downstairs in half an hour.
I must admit I was disappointed. I wanted to make love with her. I needed her. But I knew I had to obey her.
So I gingerly got dressed as quickly as I could (gingerly because of the way my body felt) and with a little bit of soft hissing (coming past my clenched teeth) I even managed to coax my breasts, despite my nipples yelling no, into my bra (if she hadn’t put it on the bed I would not have worn it).
After brushing my hair and fixing my makeup I was happy to see that the marks from the gag’s straps were not too bad and would probably go away in a little while.
Downstairs I saw Maggie sitting in the kitchen looking out the patio doors. It was a beautiful sunny day and I saw the ocean waves gently rolling in as I walked toward her. I was, as I said before, happy.
I was only a couple of steps away from her when she moved her arm and without saying a word or turning around to look at me she pointed at a cushion that was on the floor next to her. It took just a second or two for me to realize what I was to do and then I was next to her. I got on my knees, with my eyes looking at her feet (she was wearing a pair of white sneakers that I can only describe as being tennis shoes and a pair of white pants and white blouse). I put my hands behind my back (this is a position she taught me the last time I was there) and waited.
Picking up my phone from the table she gave it to me and told me I had some calls and I should take a look at them to see if any had to be returned.
There was a call from my cousin with a voice mail, a call from a friend in Phoenix (just to say hello) and a couple of other calls that were not important enough for me to return.
I gave her back my phone, put my hands behind my back again and while she put my phone in her purse, she asked if I was hungry. I said I was famished and, after telling me she was too, she reached for my vibrator (I didn’t even notice it was on the table). She told me to lift my skirt, pull my panties down and put it inside her (my) cunt (oh how I hate that word, maybe it’s just me, but I do hate that word).
Once it was in I stood, as instructed, pulled my panties up, pushed my skirt down and, after giving me a quick peck on my cheek and telling me what a good obedient cunt I was, she had me follow her to the car.
I was already turning red from being called ‘a cunt’, but when she told me to lift my skirt to my waist once we were in the car and to put my hand on ‘her cunt’ and to tweak my nipples (they were so sensitive!) while she drove, I must have turned every shade of red ever imagined.
I kept looking out the windows to see if anyone could see what I was doing. I was so nervous I wanted to just hide, become invisible, but at the same time I was also getting wet and with the way I began to move my hips Maggie knew what I was doing. She told me to stop moving my hand but keep it on my panties and to keep squeezing my right nipple and to stop looking out the windows, “keep your eyes down, glued to ‘her cunt’”.
Now I have to tell you that this was, to me, a totally new Maggie. In the past she loved tying me up, spanking, teasing me, some torture too, but she was never like this, this dominant, this strict. I liked the new Maggie. A lot.
At a stop sign she took my phone out, moved it so I could see it and said, “you have one minute."
As she started driving again the vibrator went on full, I went on full, I pressed my hand on my puss and despite the increasing pain twisted my nipple. I rocked and wriggled and as I kept getting closer and closer my eyes couldn’t stop looking at the phone. The seconds were speeding along, I was so close, I just needed a few more seconds.
It turned off. I didn’t. She slapped my thigh, wickedly hard. I was frozen in time.
“Put your hands under your ass and don’t move,” or something very close to that.
Shaking, my nipples now felt like they were as hard as rocks and my puss, normally in full control of me, wouldn’t let me sit idly, and despite my best efforts I couldn’t sit still.
As she parked the car at the restaurant (Applebee’s and, for those of you who may not know, in Florida restaurants are now allowed to offer limited inside dining) she turned to me. She told me how disappointed she was and, after telling me to fix myself up, got out of the car and started walking towards the restaurant.
By the time she reached the door I was out of the car, my skirt was pulled down and my nipples were killing me. With each step they bounced and rubbed inside my bra and it was torture. Turning me on and hurting me at the same time.
By the time the hostess came to sit us, I was behind her (we both had on our masks so at least for the time being no one, I thought, could see the grimace I was making as I walked).
I was told to slide into the booth first and then she sat next to me, trapping me between her and the wall. There were empty booths adjacent to us and a couple of small tables (for four) were opposite us. Both were fully occupied and I dreaded having to take my mask off.
Trying to look calm, I ordered a water and she ordered an ice tea and two chicken salads for us.
When the waitress left Maggie asked how I was doing and I told her that, while there were some things I found quite difficult, there was one thing that bothered me a lot and that was her calling me (not wanting to be overheard I lowered my voice) her cunt. I told her how offensive that word is to me and although my hands were shaking I said it and waited, for what seemed an eternity, for her to respond.
Smiling (and sort of giggling), she took my hand in hers, leaned over and kissed my cheek. Sitting back again, still holding my hand, she told me that if that is a limit I wish to set then she would abide by it and asked if there were any other things I needed to tell her.
Feeling as though a weight had been lifted, I said there was just one other thing I was curious about and that is how, since the last time we were together, she seemed to have become so strict and cruel.
Laughing, she asked if her personality was turning me off and I shook my head and told her no. I liked what she was doing to me but I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to please this new Maggie.
Kissing me again, she told me not to worry, that I pleased her more than I could imagine and that if I decided to continue with her she would love having me as her slave. I could have sworn one of the people heard that at the other table and I blushed and felt the embarrassment rush through me; but, again, I was happy.
“So,” she asked, when we started to eat, “would you prefer being called slut, whore, bitch or pussy? You pick."
Nearly choking on my salad I asked if those were my choices and by just giving me “the look” I knew they were.
So, what will it be?
“Slut” I whispered.
“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.”
“Slut, I wish to be your slut,” (and now I definitely knew the people at the other table heard me). I was totally mortified, my face was burning and, again, I wished I could just disappear.
I could see them looking at us, at me, I couldn’t escape, and when Maggie put her hand to my mouth and told me to suck my Mistress’s fingers I was horrified, embarrassed, humiliated and reduced, totally, to being nothing more than her slut.
I took her fingers in my mouth, sucked on them, and even moaned (with pleasure). This was a new world for me. I was not prepared for it. I didn’t know where I was going or what was going to happen next and suddenly I didn’t give a damn about the other people in the restaurant.
I was happy.
Smiling, Maggie took her fingers away and told me I was a good little slut and as strange as this may sound that made me feel good.
Later, when the waitress came back to ask if we wanted dessert, Maggie said no and asked for the check and the waitress said she would be right back.
As she left us, Maggie got up and went to sit on the other side of the booth. Taking the keys out of her purse, she put them on the table and told me to go to the car and wait for her.
I said, “Yes Ma’am," and just as I was starting to walk away she reached out, grabbed my hand, pulled me down so I had to lean over, and, very calmly (and thankfully very quietly), told me to turn the A/C up all the way, take my clothes off, put the vibrator in my mouth and put my hands under my ass.
Just before releasing my hand, she asked if her slut can remember all that and I, with the fortitude of a charging lion, muttered “yes, Mistress."
I was, to say the least, beside myself. There was no way I wanted to do what she told me, not out in the parking lot! But despite the fact that I could feel my legs shaking (as well as my arms, hands and anything else that signals when you are scared to death). I knew I would do as I was told because, I thought, if I didn’t what would she do, would she punish me or tell me to go home and never see her again? Were there any other hellish things she would do to me worse than that? Most likely, but I didn’t want to find out.
The all too loud beeping of the doors unlocking did not startle me but it did stop me from taking the last two or three steps to the car. How long does it take to convince yourself to do something that you are afraid of? A second or two, a minute, an hour, a day, I don’t know but at that moment it seemed forever for me to get into the car. I turned the A/C on and as quickly as possible, while turning my neck like an owl to look out the windows, I managed to get undressed and put that awful, wet, dripping, vibrator in my mouth while, at the same time, shaking with fear from the possibility of being seen.
Fortunately we were parked near the end of the parking row and there were no other cars very close (and that’s when I realized she purposefully parked in this spot – the bitch...).
So I’m sitting, with my hands under my ass, my nipples were at attention and aching to be touched (despite how painful it would be), and as it got colder in the car I could feel the goose bumps on my arms and legs and, of course, I knew what the cold air was doing to my nipples. You would think the cold would help numb them, but no, it didn’t, it just made it worse. Did I mention that the vibrator (gag) was causing me to drool, non-stop, and my breasts, tummy and most likely the seat were soaked...
I saw Maggie walking towards the car as quickly as I imagined a turtle would run. Like molasses. Obviously she was in no rush and even though it was getting dark I could see her smiling. It wasn’t exactly an evil smile but it did remind me of a smile you might see on the cat in Alice In Wonderland and by the time she got into the car I was actually shivering from both the cold and fear.
“Good slut," she said, “open your legs as far as you can and keep them like that until we get home."
As soon as she pulled out of the parking lot she reached over and put her fingers in my puss. Immediately I started to moan and move with them.
“Be quiet and don’t move an inch,” she said. Which I managed to do, sort of, and despite a second warning still managed to move. This apparently didn’t please her and I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I would be punished for disobeying (and, since it was impossible for me to stay still we both knew I would be punished). Something to look forward to, I thought.
Turning into her development, the horror of being seen by the guard at the gate made me want to put my hands up to cover my breasts. Then I realized that I had forgotten that, as a resident, she went through the gates furthest away from the guardhouse and we didn’t have to stop. My body quickly relaxed and I was able to stop pushing my bare feet on the floor, trying to use an imaginary brake.
Similarly, when we pulled into her driveway I felt great relief wash over me as I watched the garage door open.
Now here’s an interesting tidbit, at least to me. As soon as we were in the garage she took her fingers out of my puss (she had them in me the whole time) and my clit, suddenly feeling abandoned, screamed “NO”, but, as you can imagine, it doesn’t have vocal chords (that I know of) so the only sound it made was in my mind and it, and I, were not happy.
“Get out of the car, go to the kitchen and clean the vibrator, then, if you have to, go to the bathroom before coming upstairs.”
Grabbing the vibrator I hurried to the kitchen, cleaned it, and left it in the dish rack to dry. Thinking twice about it I decided I should make a stop and after washing up I went upstairs to her bedroom.
She had changed into a very pretty negligee, floor length, see through, and very pink (I would never have thought she liked pink). She was sitting on one of the two chairs by the window that give you a beautiful view of the ocean. Especially on a clear night with the lights from the stars glistening on the water. But I digress...
Once again she used that magic finger and pointed to the cushion on the floor next to her and as soon as I knelt she put her fingers in my hair and it felt so wonderful feeling her stroking my hair like that. I actually felt very calm, even serene, and with my eyes closed I was just there, loving her touch.
“Look at me slut," she said. “You must be punished, but not tonight. No, tonight you will come to my bed and you will put your mouth on my cunt (ugh, that word again) and you will not stop until I have come four times. Do you understand, slut?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I also knew she could tell from my reaction when she said cunt that it bothered me.
“I know I promised not to call you a cunt and I have kept my word. Do you think slut’s Mistress should be admonished for using that word?”
Now that was a trick question if I ever heard one.
Sometimes I am not the brightest but I do know when I am suddenly between a rock and a hard place.
If I say she should not have said it, then I am saying that she is wrong and should be admonished (how did she come up with that word...admonished?).
But how can my Mistress be wrong? As far as the dynamics growing between us is concerned she is never wrong. So she can say/use that word whenever/however she likes.
The better part of valor (or something like that) told me to run as far away from this as I could so I told her, rather meekly, that as her slut it is not my place to tell my Mistress what to do or what is right or wrong. I am her slut and therefore, because her slut caused her Mistress to be concerned about something that she should never be concerned about then it is her slut that should be admonished.
How’s that for BS? Well, at the time it sounded very laudable or even Freudian.
Smiling, she laughed and said, “What a crock. Now get your bony ass us here."
The spanking went on for quite a while. At first it was pleasurable but as the strokes began to intensify, not so much. I didn’t have to find a mirror to see how red my ass was getting. And when she used her hair brush (which apparently was conveniently on the table next to her chair) the pain multiplied a thousand times.
I could not hold back my screams and I also could not hold back my trying to rub myself on her thighs. If it had continued any longer I would have come. I needed to come. But I was not allowed to come. So much for the better part of valor.
When she finished she sort of pushed me off her lap and told me to sit in the corner opposite the bed and put my nose in the corner.
I touched my cheeks while walking to the corner and I felt the welts. I don’t think I had ever been spanked like that before. It hurt. It was not at all comfortable to sit. Yet, at the same time, (while keeping my hands clasped together behind my back) I needed to touch myself so badly and that hurt even more.
But I was happy.
Sleeping arrangements were actually very nice. I was not tied up, I was on my right side, and she was spooning me. Her warmth made me glow.
Of course this did not happen until I dutifully and with a lot of energy gave my Mistress the orgasms she demanded. She even spent what I thought was a lot of time instructing me on the proper way to ‘worship her cunt’.
As she cuddled me, my eyes, now heavy, closed and before I knew it the sun was shining and I, after being gently spanked again (after all, she said, we don’t want to waste a perfectly good red ass) was allowed to shower, dress and make her breakfast, after I had served her again in the shower, brushed her hair and ironed the blouse she wanted to wear.
When I got out of the bathroom she had put clothes, if you want to call them clothes, on the bed for me to wear.
My ‘uniform’, best description I can come up with right now, was a short pink lacy apron, pink stockings and garter belt, my four-inch, ankle-strap, heels (they are black so they clashed) and a pink dog collar with a tiny lock. Nothing else.
The collar was a nice touch. But pink? I guess she does have a thing for pink.
After everything we had done before this weekend, and after everything we had done the day before, you would think I would not be embarrassed to go downstairs dressed like that, but I was. Funny isn’t it. After everything that was done to me, I was embarrassed to go downstairs wearing a tiny pink apron, stockings and a dog collar.
Oh, did I forget to mention a very big smile too...
This has gone on much longer than I thought it would, I hadn’t planned on writing another version of War and Peace, so I will stop here and continue writing about that weekend as well as some of the things we’ve been up to since. Hopefully I will finish and submit within the next couple of days.
Liz