Tina

While our bondage and whipping sessions were intense, there was no way we could be successful in school, nor have social lives if I was tied all the time, or if Natasha’s ass was constantly blistered. Hence, we sort of settled on fortnight to bi-weekly sessions. There was no tit for tat either: I might paddle Natasha a couple times in a row and then be tied two or even three times before I did her again.  I’m not counting me just sitting around in handcuffs and leg irons, or me giving Natasha “six of the best” on her bare cheeks.

I should like to tell you a little about my favorite bondage costumes: discipline helmet, corset, plugs, boots and nipple clamps.
You may remember that I originally didn’t like the term “discipline helmet.”  Eventually, though, I came to accept the name and now feel no reason to object to the name.  While I get a certain kick out of having someone put my helmet on me, I get far greater pleasure doing it to myself.

I have two helmets.  One is very plain.  No eye or mouth holes and a zipper closing in back.  I don’t like “plain jane” as much as I like my “mad max” leather, head sack.  Actually, when you think about it, that’s exactly what it is, a leather, head sack.  Laying by itself (without my head in it), on a bed or something, it really is shapeless, except for the many straps which give it a sort of form. “Mad max” is a full head cover that extends down my neck to the start of my shoulders.  It has rather large eye openings, but they can be completely covered over with padded blinders that secure with velcro at several points and with locking buckles at either temple.  At my ears are perforated areas so that stereo headphones may be clamped over my head.  These headphones have the alternative function of making me very hard of hearing.  It’s not possible to shut off all sound so the headphones have a way of transmitting silent sound which overwhelms most other sound.  Don’t ask me the technicalities, I 
just find it great.

The mouth area is unique in discipline helmets.  I do not like ball gags, so this helmet will help keep a very large ball in my mouth.  Why would I want a ball gag if I don’t like ball gags?  Simple, this IS a discipline helmet and there has to be something that I don’t like, sort of.
Anyway, the ball I use has the center bored out so I can breathe through it.  I can’t get the ball completely in my mouth and it could possibly be forced out, so the helmet will accept a pouch in the front which (a) makes it obvious I’m wearing a ball gag; and (b) keeps the damn thing in my mouth.  There is also a flat front when no gag is needed and yet a third which will keep an inflatable bladder in my mouth.  I should also tell you that the breathing hole in the ball gag can hold a small rubber hose 
for forced feeding of liquids into me—I don’t use that very often.

The whole inside of the helmet is lined with very soft, neoprene rubber.  I like the smell of leather, and would have preferred a leather lining, but the neoprene rubber makes for a snugger fit.  It gets a little sweaty, but I like it.
The closure is done by lacing, with each lacing through holes, not hooks.  It takes longer to get on and off, but it fits just super; and since this is for my pleasure, why use half measures. The laces go down the neck.  Permanently fixed to the helmet is a bondage collar.  It is very rigid, but not overly high, so I have certain head movement, but not much.  It is secured by a very large padlock (did I mention that all the mouth closures and the headphones are also secured with locks?) When the collar is locked, the laces might be cut and the helmet loosened a little butno way could it be removed.

But that’s not all.  The leather is soft, so it has a limited amount of stretch to it.  Any movement around a gag is unwanted so I have a strap that passes under my nose that joins another strap, just at my the top of my cheek bones, that goes under my jaw and locks at the top of my head.  When this is tightened, my jaw is FIXED!
Putting on my helmet is always a time of high drama for me.  As I said, it is sometimes put on me by others, but I enjoy it far more when I do it to myself.  Naturally, the first thing I do is insert (or try to) the ball gag.  I open my mouth as wide as I can, 
and I push the ball in as far as I can. I frequently get a kink in my jaws at this point, but I massage them and work the ball until my jaws adjust. 

I glance at myself in the mirror and marvel at my face, and I try all the more to get the ball in further, always being careful to keep the center channel in the middle. When I’m satisfied that I can make no more impact on the ball gag, I gather my hair, wishing it were shorter, and wondering why it isn’t. Still, there is a certain distinction having the last inch or so of my hair peeking out below the locked collar.  That done, I lift the sack and spread it out as much as possible (I never loosen the laces very much when I take it off as I really don’t LIKE the tightening to be too long) and pull it down over my head. 
Well, that’s not really correct; actually, I hook the bottom of the lacing at the back of my head and then pull forward and down on the front to pull it down over the front of my face.  Then, I pull down the rear.  When I’m satisfied it’s pulled down, I twist it back and forth until the eye holes are positioned properly.  Then I make sure the ball hole is in the proper place.

Now I begin the tedious task of tightening the laces.  At it’s tightest, the laces will bring the two edges within a half inch of meeting.  There is, of course, an overlap so that no part of my head is not covered with the leather/rubber helmet.  I’ve become quite adept at this lacing and can bring it together within a quarter hour.  The next item is the gag covering.  Since I haven’t used anything but the ball, the simple pouch is sufficient today.
Carefully, I match the velcro patches.  When I’m satisfied with the fit, then I put the tabs into the buckles and secure them. It’s a real turn-on to snap the tiny locks into place because it adds a sense of outside control. 

A word about the locks and keys: while I can secure the keys out of reach so that I have to wear the helmet for whatever specified time, I don’t always, choosing instead to simply revel in the pleasure of wearing the helmet while knowing I can remove it anytime I want.

Once the mouth is secured, I put the chin strap on to secure my mouth to the Nth degree.  I really like this part.  The lock on the top of my head for this strap is larger than the two on my mouth cover. [By now, my jaws have begun to ache.  The first time that happened, I panicked and quickly removed the helmet and ball.  Now I’ve found that I can handle the ache because it settles quickly.] Next, I secure the headphones and lock them.
The next to last thing I secure is the bondage collar.  Sometimes I fasten this tightly and others not so tight.  The heavy padlock is very noticeable.  I secure it tight this time.  My head movement is now limited.  Of course, the helmet itself limits my head movement, but the collar cuts back on my up and down movement. 

Immediately I look at myself in the mirror.  Next to wearing the helmet, I like looking at myself wearing it.  Of course, I can’t see what I look like when I have the blinders on but I do have pictures.  At this point, I do the final thing which is to fix the 
blinders over my eyes and, with a sure sense of touch, secure the padlocks. 
It should be noted that I now have eight different padlocks securing my helmet to me: two at my blinders, two at my mouth covering, two at the headphones, one at the top securing the chin strap and the final one on the bondage collar.  Maybe you get the idea I like padlocks!

At this point, I can just sit or lay down to enjoy myself, or I can add other bondages.
I can smoke and I can use my vibrator.
That’s how much I like my discipline helmet.

I have three corsets.  Although not satisfactorily, I can put myself into two of them; for the third, I need help. The simplest is a waist cincher.  At it’s widest point, it is only six inches.  This is the easiest for me to fasten and I can get it rather tight.
The other one I can put on by myself is more formidable. It covers me from just below my boobies to just above my cunt in front and  just to the beginnings of my ass crack in back. With this, I can draw my waist in by at least four inches. With mother’s or Natasha’s help, I get reduced five inches and sometimes six (one time it was seven inches but I needed lots of smelling salts for that).

Besides making my middle look a little like the middle of an hour-glass, my corset holds me rigidly upright. It’s not quite as strong as being tied to a post, but it obviously is more mobile. Learning how to draw the shallow breaths took some doing.  Now I’m comfortable that way and rarely forget (if I forget and try to draw a deep breath, I sometimes have a hard task to exhale it). I can and I do wear both these corsets under regular clothes, though I’m usually limited to dresses or skirts as 
my smaller waist won’t hold up my pants unless I use suspenders.

The third corset was a present from my father from his last trip to Europe.  Mom got one just like it.  While the first two are boned, in the fullest sense of the word, they are boned with the traditional whale bones.  This one is boned with steel!  You might think that would make it heavy.  You would be right.  It weighs twenty pounds. Indeed, when putting this on, we use small, bra-like straps to hang it on my shoulders until it’s been closed enough to be molded to my body. 
The inside is lined with a thin sheet of rubber over leather. The outside is patent leather, which is far less pliable than kid.  In other words, it’s a fetishist’s dream.
While wearing the patent leather corset, I rarely have any covering over it.  One time, I did go out wearing Natasha’s mu-mu.  In any event, when I’m in it, I’m really in it.

By plugs, I’m referring to cunt and ass-hole plugs.  I was very much intrigued by these when I saw one in a catalog.  The first time I wore that belt, with both plugs permanently fixed to the crotch strap, I KNEW that wouldn’t work.

My current belt has both plugs on sliders so that the crotch strap can move with me. The sliders are not so loose that the crotch strap moves easily; it doesn’t.  What it does do is create just a little resistance so that the plugs are constantly just a little behind my body, which makes me verrry aware of them. I also tried some huge plugs but I found that smaller is better, at least for plugs when you’re on the go.  [Note that I don’t usually go for the enema routine.  When I have, the plug does have to be larger, but then it usually isn’t in very long and I sure don’t go for long walks.]
Yes, I do wear this outside the house.  I wear it to class.  I wear it to movies.  I wear it for walking.  I even wore it on a date. Natasha got a kick out of that.
Yes, I’m constantly turned on when I am “plugged.”  I will also say that the plug belt is the one bondage item that 
Natasha’s tries, only she doesn’t agree it’s a bondage item.  Maybe she’s right.

I have several pair of boots.  I do not have a pair of thigh highs. I tried them once and found they just were more trouble than their worth.  My knee highs are high heeled, one with a reasonable walking heel of four and a half inches; the other is extremely hard to walk in with the seven inch heels—in these, I literally walk on the ends of my toes.
Nipple clamps are great!  Of course, I started out with clothes pins, and initially concluded it would be impossible to endure them. As time wore on, and I began to understand desirable pain, I came to grips with clothes pins.  Then too, I discovered therewere many types of clothes pins, and some of them are fierce! Having mastered the clothes pins, I began to branch out. 

The first ones were pinchers with set screws to adjust them. After I managed them, I went in for a whole host of them.
My favorites still are the japanese butterfly clamps.  These exert an exquisite pain for a while; after a while, however, the nipple gets toughened and the pain almost totally disappears.  I have other clamps that I can fasten over the butterfly clamps to make the experience more telling, and that can be fiery painful.
My two most recent clamps are clothes pins with wood screws and a  real fierce pair with saw teeth.  The clothes pins with wood screws I made myself.  A hole was drilled in both sides of each clamp. Into these holes, I screwed #4 wood screws.  I ran them in and out several times to loosen the wood.  I put the clothes pins on my nipples and then, using a small screwdriver, alternately tighten each screw one quarter turn.  For a while, there is little sensation, but then it gets going.

The screws haven’t penetrated my nipples yet, and I doubt they will as the  points are not especially sharp and the springs on the clothes pins are not strong enough.  The pain is exquisite. The other pair is very new.  I’m still trying to buy into their pain.  It really is a challenge.

5. 

Warning - the following contains scenes that you may find urggh! It deals with eating shit if you do not wish to read this click here to bypass it.

I’ve become a computer hacker and I’ve joined bbs’s to get stories, see pictures and make contacts.  Some of the stories are just terrible—no style and just crud.  Some others are pretty good.  A few are terrific. I was reading one the other nite entitled “A Brown Gagged Girl.” The bondage seemed excessive, and much too long.  Besides, it was forced, and I don’t like that as much as voluntary.  But I was intrigued about the gag.  Of course it referred to being gagged with shit.  I had drunk my own urine on a few occasions and I’ve had guys piss in my mouth.  Naturally, this had led me to think about shit.  Once, I had stuck my finger up my ass and then licked it.  The smell was terrible but the taste wasn’t too bad.  This put me off, but I never really gave up on it.

As I read the story of the girl with the brown gag, it occurred to me getting past the odor was a big part of the battle.  Thus, the most important task was to get the shit in my mouth.  But then, just having it there wouldn’t do much, or would it?
Determined to try, I went to the drug store and bought a package of condoms.  It’s a mark of the times, I guess, that a girl can go to the drug store and buy condoms herself.  I also bought some cheese clothe, rubber gloves, a bed pan, a very thin rubber hose, swimmers goggles, ear plugs and a compound that is designed to make the stool firmer (read that to mean to make my turds more solid, usually my shit is pretty runny).  I also bought some all bran cereal at the grocery.

For three days, I ate that all bran and the compound.  The first morning, I notice my shit wasn’t so runny, that there was a tendency to solidify.  The second morning, my shit was definitely more consistent.  And the third morning, my turd was a rope.  I was ready.  That day I really loaded up on the all bran and the compound.  I wasn’t sure how this would work, but I was determined to try.

The next day, a Friday, I had no classes and Natasha was in labs all day.  I knew she didn’t even come home for lunch.  I got up and had some coffee, and ate some more all bran and the compound.  I had a cigarette and then set everything out that I had bought.  When I felt the urge to shit, I peed but held the shit.  Then, naked, I took the rubber hose and inserted into my piss hole.  I thought I could insert my own catheter and drain off my piss so there’d be no mixing with the shit in the bed pan.
It took some doing but I finally forced that hose into my bladder.  The remaining urine flowed freely—I had to grab a flower vase to run it into.  When the piss stopped flowing, I then sat on the bed pan and let loose.  I felt, with great satisfaction, the long, rope like turd coming out of my ass-hole. 

When I had totally evacuated, I pulled on the rubber gloves and tried the first test: I used a finger to wipe my ass.  One good thing about the all bran and the compound was that there usually was little to wipe, and this time was no different.  I withdrew my rubber covered finger and starred at it.  No doubt about it, the odor of shit was there, but it didn’t seem as strong.  I wasn’t sure what to make of this, and finally decided it was just my excitement.

Next, I took one of the condoms and began to feed the turd into it.  This took a little doing as the turd was not as stiff as a prick would have been.  In the end, I simply pushed the shit into the condom as best I could.  I then tied a knot in the end and then I washed the shit-filled condom.  I removed the rubber gloves and then I put the condom in my mouth.  I’d had condoms in my mouth before and this tasted about the same—a flavor of latex.  I knew that my mouth was filled with shit, even if it was in a rubber sack.  I put some tape over my mouth to secure the condom and then I just sat.

I wasn’t sure what to think.  I’d done what I wanted, but the sensation was sort of nothing.  I knew what I had to do, but I wondered if, when it came time to do it, if I could.  Putting a shit filled condom in my mouth was one thing.  They were supposed to keep whatever was inside them inside.  True, their usual function was to keep gism in them, but other things too. 
I know we often used them as water balloons. 

Well, I had to try.  I pulled off the tape and removed the condom. I then lighted a cigarette and pulled the rubber gloves back on.  Then I laid out the cheese clothe.  I reasoned I would use four layers.  When I had the four ten inch square pieces together, I held them up to the light, and decided to add one more layer.  I felt it would be better if there was a very slow moistening than a too-quick one.
Then I reached into the bed pan and broke off a piece of turd about the size of a golf ball, and put it on the cheese clothe.  Then, I pulled up the four corners of the cheese clothe pieces.  Holding them with the fingers of my left hand, I began to wrap string around them, as close to the shit ball as I could.  When I’d made two wraps, I released the bag with my left hand and used it to help tighten the string.  At last, I had a fairly credible ball in the clothe.  I held it, considered it, and then swiftly put it in my mouth. 

Continuing my swift movements (I wanted to get this part done before I chickened out), I put several layers of tape over my mouth.  All this time, my tongue had avoided the intruding bit, and my saliva had slowed. Still not sure of myself, I put leg irons on my ankles and handcuffs on my wrists behind my back.  I had left my keys in the other room, so it would take a few minutes to get there.  One way or another, I had forced myself to accept a shit ball, and it would take a few minutes to get out.
Tentatively, I forced my tongue to explore the cheese clothe sack.
I distinctly noticed a taste of shit, but it wasn’t too strong.  And then it hit me: I hadn’t noticed the odor at all.  I suppose this could be partly explained by becoming somewhat used to the odor of the open bedpan, but I wondered.

My saliva had started to flow.  I worried the bag around my mouth with my tongue.  I could tell the bag was getting wet from my saliva, and I knew the moment of truth would be coming soon.  What would I do?  It would take me at least five minutes to get to the keys, unlock my handcuffs and peel off the tape to spit out the bag of shit.  If I wanted to call this off before this got out of hand, I’d better start moving to the other room now.
I didn’t move.

The first acrid taste became apparent.  It was sudden.  It wasn’t there, and then it was.  I was alarmed.  What was I to do?  I began to shuffle to the other room.  And then I stopped.  I told myself I had wanted to do this.  Now, I owed it to myself to at least give it an honest try. I was now swallowing my shitty saliva.  Was this healthy?  Of course not.  Was it dangerous?  I was reasonably certain I had no diseases of the lower tract and that any parasites living in me were mine.  Hence, the danger was minimal.  (Sucking on someone else’s shit balls might be another story.)

My tongue was now rolling the ball around my mouth freely.  It was like sucking on a jaw breaker.  Inwardly, I smiled at that allusion.  Then I became bolder.  I  had gotten this far without getting sick. It was time to experiment.  I squeezed the ball against the roof of my mouth.  This compressed the shit ball, and forced out more saliva with a heavier volume of shit.
I could deal with it!
I wondered where this might lead me.

Now I began to roll the ball around and press it against my cheeks.  And the ball had become noticeably smaller.  There was no choice for me.  I shuffled to the other room and unlocked my handcuffs, but I left the leg irons on my ankles.  Back in the other room, I began to prepare a bigger shit ball.
When I’d finished with the larger ball, I removed the tape from my mouth, fished out the now totally used cheese clothe sack of shit, and inserted the new and larger ball of shit.  I did not use tape this time and I handcuffed my hands in front of me.
I did wait until the bag was wetted, and then I began to press on it.  The shitty flavor was stronger this time, but 
I was hooked.
It took me a half hour to drain that bag.

When I removed it, I looked in the bed pan.  There was only a little of the nice long rope I had deposited there a while ago.  I reached for it and put it in my mouth, and I began to chew it.
I had an orgasm!

After I took a shower and brushed my teeth, I returned and cleaned up the mess.  I knew I had to think about what I had done.  I slipped into a sweater, levis, socks and my work boots, and went out for a walk.  There was no question that I had entered an entirely new area.  Bondage, even discipline, while not everyday things, and not for everybody, was at least seen by most as not harmful.  There were a few extremists who felt anything pleasurable was wrong, and a few others who would say female bondage was degrading.  Eating shit, I was sure, would be on almost everyone’s list of disgusting things. 
Should I care? 

In truth I cared only about Natasha’s reaction, and of course I was wise enough that no one must find out about it.
Having settled it in my mind, I stopped and had a hamburger, and laughed inwardly about my “appetizer.”  It suddenly dawned on me I hadn’t eaten that day, not even my all bran.  Most importantly, my stomach wasn’t upset in any way.  Clearly, I would do this again.  And then I headed home.

Good thing that I did.  The apartment smelled like shit.  Not surprising, even though I had cleaned it up.  So I sprayed some lysol around and got a fan going. I was on a high, so I decided on a little more serious bondage.  I stripped out of my clothes and pulled off the work boots.  I put on a pair of shoe booties that we use just for bondage: they require I stand on my toes for the heels are ten inches.  I can stand in them, even take small, mincing steps, but after a while my foot will cramp slightly from the extreme arch.  When I reckoned Natasha would be home in a half hour, I put leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles.  I used a ball gag.  Then I locked my ankles together with one lock and also fixed a foot long piece of chain to that lock, and laid on the floor.  Then I put my hands behind my back and used another lock to hold the cuffs together.  A final padlock secured the length of chain from my ankles to my wrist cuffs.  I was in a hog-tie.

Apparently, Natasha stopped off on the way home.  She was later than I expected, but I wasn’t worried.  It just extended my ordeal.  The very thing that makes a hog-tie difficult was what attracted me: the growing urgency to stretch out my legs; and that un-requited urgency leads to frustration, and my sexual tension.  The hog-tie is the most difficult, but it is very satisfying for my bondage purposes.

At last I heard Natasha’s key in the lock.  The door opened, she stopped, and then said, “Oh, ho, what have we here?”
I gurgled a bit behind my ball gag (I can make sounds, a few of which are intelligible but I don’t always try; the only really silent gag is very elaborate and not totally effective).
Natasha dropped something on the table (probably her books) and came over to squat near my face.  She was wearing a blouse with a sweater draped over her shoulders, a full skirt, stockings (neither of us wore panty hose, ever), mid-heels and no panties.  I knew that because I could look right into her cunt.  She had been in class all day with no panties on under her skirt.  Not remarkable since I frequently do the same.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
I managed to gurgle ‘about hour.’
“Want to stay a while longer?”
Gurgle: ‘up to you.’
“Okay, I’m going to take a shower.  Don’t go away.”  With that, she swatted me on my ass.

Now as you know, I’m into bondage and Natasha is into spanking and whipping. She does some bondage, especially for a heavy duty whipping, but the physical is more her thing.  I, on the other hand, am not into the physical.  Oh, I’ve had Natasha spank me and even whip me but nothing like I’ve done to her.  Anyhow, that single swat had a curious effect on me: I wanted another! 
I gurgled at Natasha, but she must have thought I was making my usual protest, and didn’t come back.  So I laid there, fighting the need to straighten my legs.  I was also feeling some discomfort from the shoes.  And my cunt got wetter.
A while later, a nude Natasha returned.

“Phew,” she said, “you’re really turned on tonite.  I could smell your cunt when I opened the bathroom door.  Ready to be freed?” I gurgled.
“What?” she asked.
I gurgled again, and this time she came down to my face.  I tried to say ‘spank me’; but she didn’t understand, so I tried again.  This time she must have made something out about what I’d said, and she said, “I think you said something about spank.” I gurgled twice in encouragement.
“Well, you surely can’t spank me in that position, so is it that you want me to spank you?”
I gurgled twice again.
“Well, well,” she said, sitting back on her naked ass, with her naked cunt inches from my face, “and to what do we owe this request.” I said nothing.
“You do want me to spank you?  You’re sure?  You’re not just requesting it because you think I might want to do it?”
I managed a ‘for me’ and smiled at her with my eyes.
“Well, I’ll be damned.  Hand alone or can I use a paddle?”

This caused me to ponder: a hand spanking was one thing.  I knew, from experience, that I’d feel it; but did I want more—the answer was a qualified yes.  I managed ‘start hand’ and then smiled. Natasha repeated, bless her, just she was certain what I was saying through my gag: “You want me to start with my hand?  Does that mean I might have to use something else?”
I gurgled.
“Okay, Tina, it’s your ass.”
The first thing she had to do was free me from my hog-tie, which she did by unlocking the chain connecting my leg irons to my handcuffs.
“I think I’ll leave the rest on you,” she said, pulling me to my feet, “but I do want you to lie across my lap to begin.”  While saying that, she had turned me, sat on a chair and then had me bend over her lap.  My legs had just enough movement to permit me to get down on her lap with some dignity.

The spanking began immediately.  Natasha is very experienced, and I felt the slaps from the start, but they weren’t punishing.  She maintained a steady cadence, giving me an even number of slaps on each cheek over 10 slaps but not in order.  Sure, I could feel them, but since I had felt them on few occasions in the past, I also knew they wouldn’t kill me, at least yet.  I said nothing, but occasionally I would moan softly.
The first time I moaned, Natasha laughed, “Are you serious?  You and I both know that’s not all that bad.”

I received 50 spanks before she stopped for a breath.  My bottom had heated up nicely, and I was feeling a stinging sensation, but I was a long way from crying uncle.  Gently, Natasha pushed me off her lap and helped me to the floor with dumping me.  She then unlocked my cuffs at ankles and wrists, and lighted a cigarette for herself.  It was up to me to remove my gag if I wanted to smoke too.  I did and so I removed it.
I remained standing, puffing.  At last Natasha broke the silence.
“Okay, what’s up?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, why did you want me to spank you?”
“Did?”
That stopped her a moment, and then she added, “You still want more?”
I grinned and nodded.
“So why do want a spanking....and whatever else I decide to give you?”
“I’m just in the mood,” I said.
Snorting, Natasha said, “Well, then Tina, what got you in the mood?”
“I’m not sure.  I tried something new this morning.  Then I went for a walk, and when I returned, I did the hog-tie.  Then you came home.  Someplace along the way I sort of came to the conclusion a spanking would be nice.”

6.Tina, Part 6

There was silence for a while as each woman was lost in her own thoughts.  The naked Tina continued to stand, while she smoked and thought. It was Natasha who broke the silence: “Well, did you have enough or did you want more?”
Tina grinned and replied, “Oh, I want more.  At least the paddle, and maybe a cain.”
Natasha whistled.  “You’ve never had the cain.  Sure you can handle it?”
“Dunno,” was the reply, “but if you tie me and gag me, I’ll sure as hell try.”

So it was that Tina was placed on the whipping bench where Natasha had spent so much time.  The bench was a nicely finished plank of wood about eighteen inches long on four very sturdy legs about ten inches high.  At one end, there was a scooped-out, pillory-like place where Tina rested her neck and then a leather strap across the top secured her neck there.  A very wide leather belt went around her waist, holding her fast to the board.  At each forward leg was a ring.  Leather cuffs on her wrists were locked to these rings.  Chains extended out from the rear legs to connect to the cuffs on her ankles.
“I’m going to start with the paddle and the slapper.  Do you want a gag now?”
“No, let me try it without.  By the way, this whipping block is quite the bondage device.  I knew you liked to be tied.”

She was interrupted by the first slap of the paddle on her right ass cheek.  She gasped, but said nothing and did not cry out.  Natasha then took up a regular rhythm, hitting her once every fifteen seconds, almost like a metronome.  The blows were not especially forceful, but they were cumulative.  After the twentieth, Tina began to shift her ass back and forth, but Natasha was able to compensate so that only one paddle swat missed the absolute center of an ass cheek.
At the mark of thirty, Natasha announced there would be a break.

She lighted a cigarette and bent down to hold it to Tina’s lips.  The grateful woman took a deep drag and let the smoke curl upward after she had again lowered her head. Natasha continued to smoke, and when she finished, she mashed out the butt, took up the paddle and resumed Tina’s desired ordeal. The cadence resumed as before: every fifteen seconds, the paddle would make contact with one or the other of Tina’s ass cheeks.  The thwack was identical.  Natasha wasn’t trying to punish Tina’s ass, merely warm it and color it.  From time to time, Tina would emit an “ooof” or an “ouch,” but nothing serious, and Natasha ignored her.

At the sixtieth, Natasha stopped again.  She lighted up and again offered the butt to Tina.  Tina drew deeply and, smiling shyly, she asked “How’s my ass look?”
Natasha smiled, and then stood.  Gripping the cigarette in her teeth, she leaned over Tina’s ass.  Then, talking around the cigarette, she said, “Well, it’s quite red, and it is very warm.  Want to quit?”
“Nope,” came the prompt reply.
“More paddle or cain?”
A pause, and then “You’re in charge.  I want to feel the cain, but I like what you’ve been doing too.  How many swats have you given me?”
“Two doses of thirty each.”
“You mean I’ve had sixty?” Tina asked incredulously.
“You think you’ve had more?”
“No, no,” Tina protested.  “I thought it was lots less.  Keep up the paddling.”

So Natasha began the paddling again.  Tina thought she detected slightly more force this time, and she knew the cadence had been increased.  Still, she managed to remain still as Natasha pounded her ass over and over again with the paddle.

Finally, Natasha put the paddle down; but then, without much pause, she picked up the slapper and began with the new implement.  This permitted her to swing from further away.  This, naturally, put more force into the blows, but it also slowed them.  Tina appreciated the differences immediately.  She was also able to glimpse Natasha’s face as she swung the slapper, and she was surprised to see the look of concentration.  Natasha caught her looking up, and stopped.
“You scared?” Natasha asked.
“A little.  I may need a gag soon.”
“If you need a gag for the slapper, you’ll never be able to stand the cain.”
There was short silence, and then Tina said, “Well, gag me now and start with the cain.  I really do want to feel it.”
So Natasha said, “It’s your ass.”  She walked away to the bathroom where the girls kept their dirty laundry.  She rummaged in the bag, pulling out as many pairs of dirty panties she could find.  She then reached in her leather box and removed a muzzle gag—nothing went in the mouth from the gag but anything in the mouth would be held there.

When Natasha returned, she squatted near her head and said to Tina, “Open up.”
Tina obediently opened her mouth wide, and Natasha began to cram the dirty panties in Tina’s mouth.  Tina had known what was coming; she’d done the same to Natasha.  Somehow, considering what’d she done that morning, she didn’t think dirty panties would be so bad.  When her mouth was full, Natasha put the muzzle on her roommate, and strapped it tightly in place.
A considerable period of time elapsed between the gagging and the next thing that happened, which Tina quickly interpreted as the hummm of the cain an instant before it crashed into her red and hot ass cheeks.
This was AWFUL.
She had NO idea it would be so fierce.  It nearly made her puke.  Had she not been gagged, she might have yelled uncle; but all she could do was breathe deeply and shake her head.
“I know that stroke took your breath away.  It’s always like that.  Even for me.  If you really want me to stop, clap your ankles together, but I want you to know after that first one, the pain is still fierce but you’ll know you can handle it.”
She waited.  Tina was tempted to clap her ankles, but instead, she forced them even further apart.  She reasoned Natasha had the experience here, so she’d try one more.

She GOT it.  And Natasha was right.  It was fierce.  It was white hot, but it didn’t kill her.  Deep within her chest, she groaned through her gag, although the sound was heavily muffled. Natasha gave her four more strokes.  Then she stopped and came around to sit cross-legged in front of Tina.  She held the cain in her hands.
“So what did you think of six of my best?” Natasha asked.
Tina looked at her roommate.  There was pain, but there was also triumph in her eyes.  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and when she opened them, she rolled her eyes completely around twice, and then she winked.
“Want some more?” Just a slight hesitation, and then Tina blinked twice.
Natasha gave Tina six more strokes with the cain, and then she released her.

Tina stood and tried to rub her ass, but Natasha urged her not to do so.
“Can you sit?”
“Dunno, but let’s try it,” replied Tina, lowering herself gingerly to the cushions of the couch.  She winced when her skin made contact, but then she settled and finally leaned back.
“I wouldn’t want to do that all the time,” Tina said, “but I can see what you mean.”
“What do I mean?” Natasha asked with an amused smile on her face.
Shaking her head, Tina laughed, and then replied, “The cum at cain stroke 9 was extra good.”
Natasha laughed too, and then said, “Okay, now tell me why you wanted this and why today?”
“I ate shit this morning.”
For a moment, Natasha said nothing, and then she repeated, “You ate shit this morning?”
Tina nodded, and then told Natasha the whole story.

For several long moments, Natasha sat quietly, and then she said, “Was the spanking and caning then punishment?”
“Nope.  I was just super horny, and I needed something very different.  What you think?”
“I understand.”
Silence, and then Tina asked, “Well, aren’t you going to say anything else?”
“Why should I?  You tried something new.  You liked it.  That’s it; unless you’re thinking of asking me to try it.”
Tina shook her head.  “What we do is what we each want to do.”
They sat that way for several minutes, and then Tina said, “Natasha, sit on my face.”

The semester wound down towards Finals, which would be the last thing before the Christmas break.  From necessity, they both wordlessly agreed to put their love life (for that’s how each now viewed it—not lesbians, but certainly bi-sexuals) on hiatus.  Tina did give Natasha one moderate spanking/paddling and Natasha did suspend Tina once, but the rest of the time they were pretty quiet.

One evening, however, they took a break from their studying.  Their casual, studying clothes were remarkably similar: levis and t-shirts (sans bras, of course); only their footwear differed with Tina in high boots with her pant legs tucked in and Natasha in her preferred work boots.  Each had lighted a cigarette and held a wine glass.
“So you’re going skiing with Todd over the break?” asked Natasha.
“Will you be going home at all?”
Tina nodded, “Oh sure, I won’t leave until the 26th.  Mom and Dad wouldn’t forgive me.  Besides, I’d like to see if I can get Dad to tie me to Mom.”
“You going to demonstrate you’re newest kink?”
Grinning, Tina replied, “I don’t think so.  It’s not something I would feel comfortable recommending to them.  What about you?”
Natasha replied, “Oh, I’ll be home for Christmas too.  Mother said something about us going to Paris for New Years.”
Tina whistled, “That would be something.”
“I’m not too sure,” Natasha replied.  “Unless Mother has some others lined up, it may end up being just the two of us, and that could be boring.”

There was a silence of several seconds, and then Tina said brightly, “Let’s have our own Christmas Party.  My finals are over early in the week, and I think I heard you say you were done on Thursday morning.  We could party Thursday nite, and then go home on Friday.”
“What did you have in mind for a party?”
“Oh, we could have a little tree and presents, and then go out for a nice, dress-up, sit-down dinner.  What do you say?”
Smiling, Natasha said, “I like it.  Let’s do it.”
Since Natasha was still studying, Tina took on the responsibility of decorating after her finals were over.  She found a little tree and put lights and hung ornaments on it.  And she went shopping.  Natasha did her shopping on Thursday afternoon, after her last final.

That evening, each dressed apart from the other.  They had agreed it would be a dress up occasion, but neither knew what the other would wear.  Considering their kinks, their independently selected dress was remarkably conservative.  Tina was wearing a strapless, black cocktail dress that forced her boobs up.  The dress came halfway to her knees.  She had on black hose and 4 inch heels.  Her final accessory was a pair of black kid gloves opera length.  Natasha also wore black.  She wore a dress with a front but no back, coming up to a high collar.  Her dress was in velvet and it hung sensuously.  It too was short, and she had on the obligatory high heels.  Her gloves were elbow length.
“You wearing anything else?” Tina asked.
Natasha shook her head, and replied, “You?”
Tina grinned, and then said, “Both pussies are bare.  Well, let’s go.  The cab is here.”
Each grabbed her coat, purse and the gift they would give the other, and they left.

Needless to say, the two women caused many heads to turn when they entered the cozy restaurant.  The crowd was mostly local, and they didn’t often see the kids from the university so dressed up.  For their part, the two women acted as conservatively as they were dressed.  Their language was restrained, and they held their cigarettes and martini glasses elegantly.  It was plain to any who observed them that they were enjoying themselves, but there was no double meaning, that is that while the two might be lovers, they gave no hint.

Finally, over coffee and brandy, they decided to exchange their gifts.  Tina’s gift to Natasha was in a package about three inches cubed while Natasha’s gift to Tina was in a much larger box.
Natasha opened hers first to reveal a complete set of piercing jewelry: rings for each nipple, four for her cunt lips, ten studs for her ears and a ring for her nose.
Smiling brightly, Natasha said, “They’re beautiful.  You know I never would have thought of them myself, but now I do.  I just know I’ll enjoy having them put in me.  Now, open yours.  I hope you’ll like it.”
The other diners had watched the unwrapping, but none could see the gift Tina had given Natasha.  They had higher hopes of being able to see the other’s gift, but Tina was discreet.

Immediately after opening the box, she knew it would be rubber since she noticed the tell-tale odor.  She wondered about the other diners, and then inwardly shrugged, and proceeded.  When she had the cover off, she could see a complete rubber body suit.  It wouldn’t be like a cat suit for it was a thicker rubber.  But it was the helmet that drew her attention.  She resisted the impulse to pull it out of the box, but she starred at it.  There were glycine eyelets, a nose cover that could be clamped shut and an open mouth hole.  Laying beside it, however, were several attachments for the helmet that could be used to gag her, plug her, and there was one that was a funnel.  She beamed at Natasha, and the expression revealed her thanks and expectation.

While the other diners couldn’t see what the two women had given each other, they were able to detect the joy each had in her gift, and they began to detect an underlying anticipation.  Clearly, each woman wanted to enjoy her gift, and the other diners appreciated this.
Nevertheless, with great patience, the two women enjoyed another cigarette before they departed.
The next day, they were leaving so they did nothing more than sleep with their faces in the other’s cunt that nite.