After a while, we drove off. It took me an eternity to get to the first orgasm, a sign that the real impact of fear was stronger than its perverse link to sexual stimulation. From there I was tumbling down the hill, orgasm after orgasm, 'til I was so exhausted that I fell asleep.
When I woke up, my legs were numb and my arms were hurting from the strain. The vibrator had stopped, batteries dead indicating that we must have been driving for close to six hours. This was more than twice the time to get to Sydney and there was no slowing down. Fear was growing with every minute elapsing. We were not going to Sydney and his home.
After another hour, the car stopped and the cage door was opened. A hand touched my foot. I jerked but was reminded very quickly of the firm grip of my new restraints. The padlock between the ankles was opened and the rope and vibrator removed. I was pulled out of the cage by my feet, lifted up.
Stretching the legs hurt. Then I realized that two people were holding me. My heart almost stopped. Up to that moment, he had never let anybody into our games. I began to struggle; but it had little effect.
I was put face down onto a stretcher, my feet were reconnected and several belts fastened across my body. I was wheeled away. I silently begged him to give me a sign that he was still there. It was not to come. Instead an elevator took us down and I knew this could not be his home. After several turns I was lifted down onto a mattress and put on my side. I felt a tug on the collar. They left.
I assumed that he would take me out of my comfort zone but this was so drastic, so fast, my trust in him evaporated into thin air. I tried to get to my knees. The collar stopped me. I was on a leash, which permitted lifting my head by no more than a few centimeters. After a few futile attempts to free myself, I gave up.
It hit me that I had never verified that he was indeed working with the police, or living close to Sydney. I had gone by his word alone.
They came back about an hour later, deflated and removed the gag. The zipper over my mouth was closed. I felt their hands and I knew they were men. Shut out from communication, naked, not being able to see and with my wrists locked behind my back, I felt utterly vulnerable.
They got me onto my feet and made me walk to an area where they hosed my down with warm water. While doing so, they opened the zipper and gave me water from the hose. They applied an enema and I almost lost it right then and there. My pride and independence were gone, they had me and my body under their control, and I had no idea who they were.
From there it only got worse. I was led to another room, put on my back on a table so my butt was just above its lower edge and each of my arms tied to the two corners above my head. Ropes were pulled through the ankle cuffs and my feet pulled up until my legs were bent and spread and my vagina was exposed. I was frightened out of my wits and began to struggle. They tightened the ropes and put a strap around and across my abdomen until I could no longer move.
Fingers touched my lower lips and I screamed.
The fingers went deeper; they were covered in rubber gloves. An instrument was inserted. I realized it was a pelvic exam and forced myself to calm down. Was I in a clinic, but why? I could not figure our whether the hands belonged to a woman or man. They were probing longer than for a usual exam and it hurt. I was wearing an intra-uterine device, inserted just over a year ago. I felt it being removed.
"What are you doing?" Even if there was an answer, I could not hear it.
The person continued to examine me, heart beat, blood pressure, temperature. A prick in my arm, blood was drawn. A glass jar was pressed against my urethra and I was indicated to pee. After cleaning me, they left me alone.
I was obviously in the hands of people with medical knowledge, but this could not be a normal clinic. I mean what hospital would accept a bound woman and keep her tied up and hooded? And why were they keeping me exposed on the table? With the contraceptive device removed, I felt even more vulnerable. Did Alan want to impregnate me? Where was he?
A hand touched me. I jerked. Hands, male hands, took hold of my head and held it firm. A swab was put inside my nose, the smell of a disinfectant. Then the touch of metal near my nostrils, a clamp was applied. They are piercing my nose I thought, alarm bells exploding in my head. And they did. A sharp pain as the needle slid through the skin just below the cartilage.
I screamed, tried to get out of their iron grip, in vain. After removing the clamp, the wound was cleaned and a ring was worked onto the septum. The moves and jerks induced shockwaves of pain and made my eyes tear. A final tug and I knew it was there, protruding from my nose. I was ringed like an animal! The hands let go of my head.
"No, please! You can't do this! Take it away!" No answer and no response to my struggles.
A touch on my nipples. Fingers squeezing hard, then the clamp.
I shook my head, felt the ring in my nose, pulled on the restraints. They tightened the ropes then proceeded. Each nipple was pierced and ringed. The pain when they pierced the first was bad, with the second my distress became uncontrollable, I trashed around, began to hyperventilate, became dizzy and finally passed out.
Pain in my labia woke me. They were working on my outer labia, another penetration. I screamed but they proceeded, three times on my left, three times on my right. When they worked the rings on, I was sobbing, begging them to stop. I thought I would go crazy, but was still not prepared for the culmination, my clit. This time, the penetration went beyond anything bearable.
I was probably awake for several hours before my brain began to work again. I was lying on my back on the mattress, the collar tied to the ring in the floor, legs spread. My hands were encased in stiff mittens but otherwise unrestrained. I could not do anything with them. My nose and labia were swollen, a dull pain in my nipples and genitals. I was crying, more from the pain to my soul than body.
There was no way that Alan would do this to me. Something must have gone awfully wrong. They mistook me for another person but why did they not listen to my pleas to stop? Did he give me away? Was the whole thing about commitment and trust just a ruse?
The following hours were a nightmare. I had difficulties breathing; the hood was hot. Why did I trust him? I did not want this! There was no answer just darkness. Unbearable seconds elapsed to minutes, then the next, and the next, the throbbing in my nose, nipples and genitals becoming the chronometer for my abandonment and despair. I was in the abyss and I knew there was no escape and no way back.
At some stage, the two men returned. I was given water and fed a tasteless warm pulp then turned to the side, a blanket between my knees. Exhausted and too sore to object, I let them do whatever they wanted. From the moves, I realized that I was wearing a urinary catheter. I was given an injection and immediately fell asleep.
Pain woke me. I was disoriented, no knowledge of time. I pawed on the hood, but got no traction. My nose, nipples and genitals were throbbing. My head was pulled back by the leash. I tried to find a more comfortable position, settling finally down onto my back, legs spread.
I checked my nipples with the skin of my arms and felt the metal of the rings. The nipples were sensitive to the touch and I did not dare to explore any further. Was I done? What more could they do to me?
They came soon. Movement on the catheter between my legs, they disconnected the leash and tied my wrists behind my back. They helped me up and I was taken out of the room and down a hallway. I realized that somebody else was passing us and wondered how many people were seeing me being led around shackled, my nakedness, the hood, the ring in my nose, the urinary tube between my legs.
I felt the tile floor and assumed we were back in the shower area. This time they washed me with a sponge, careful not to touch my sores. The hood was removed to clean my teeth and face then returned.
Afterwards I was taken to the same room as the day before and tied to the table in the same manner. I was scared. Another person came and treated the piercings, first with something that stung, afterwards with a soothing liquid.
The person was sitting down between my legs and rubber-gloved fingers were spreading my labia, I flinched.
"Please let me go."
A second person was giving me two injections in the arm. I became drowsy but still felt a cold object entering my vagina. As it went deeper, it began to hurt. They waited. I was tired but fought to stay awake. I felt pressure inside the abdomen, flashes of things being pushed into me, probes being changed, tugs of being worked on. Even in my haze, I realized they were not simply inserting another contraceptive device. They were inside the uterus and there was only one reason for them to be there, to sterilize me.
When I woke up, I was back on the mattress, no recollection of how I got there. I felt sick and hot, drifting in and out of consciousness. The darkness of the hood mirrored my inside. I was numb from what they had done to me. Later they came back to give me more juice and pulp and another injection.
I spent most of the next two days on the same spot. I became an animal, dumb, deaf and blind, tethered to a ring on the ground, handled and not able to oppose. My abdomen hurt and I had cramps. They tended to my sores and in between walked me to the shower area to be cleaned. My hair which had gone to my shoulders was cut short.
Over time, the blindfold, hood and earplugs which first had only augmented my fears became my refuge. They hid my humiliation. I had no need to communicate and listen to why I was here and why they had done this to me. But I was scared. Every time they touched me, I jerked, sometimes screamed. They were not deliberately hurting me, but they were in complete control and I had no idea what they would do next to me. And there was fear, utter and terrifying fear of the future. I did not dare to think what would happen if Alan indeed had given me away and there were all indication that he had. The fear was mind numbing and instead of thinking I opted to simply exist from one moment to the next, hiding under the blindfold and the hood.
Three days after they sterilized me, the swelling and acute pain from the piercing had decreased and the pain in my abdomen subsided. They apparently thought that I had sufficiently recovered to get the laser treatment. I knew the process from previous experiences for more cosmetic purposes. Only that this time they applied it to my underarms, legs and crotch. And even though I regularly shaved my underarms and legs, to have most of my body hair permanently removed, including my crotch, upset my core to a similar extent as the piercing and sterilization had done. Another protection was taken away. In the evening I received another pelvic exam. I no longer cared.
The following day, the rubber bladder and hood were put back. They removed the urinary tube. I was led outside and placed in the trunk of a car. My wrists and ankles were locked. A blanket between my knees, a second one wrapped around me, some ropes to keep me from moving around. The lid closed and I was driven off.
We drove for several hours. Whoever had put me there knew what he was doing. The ropes were firm, held me in place but did not make me uncomfortable; the blanket between my legs prevented too much pressure on my genitals. It was only the unevenness of the tarmac that triggered pain whenever the car hit a hole or a bump.
It was obvious that the car was not a Land Cruiser. Strange enough, I did not care any longer to be passed to somebody else. Emerging anger had dug a small pocket of resolve into a world that had become so overwhelmed with fear I finally established that the fear was worse than anything that could happen to me. I commanded my brain to no longer think about the unthinkable. And anger helped -- anger about giving in and trusting Alan, anger about him breaking that trust.
After some time, the road bumps made the piercings so tender that I was swimming in a sea of sexual stimulation and pain. The car left the tarmac and changed onto a gravel road. While it promised an end to the travel, I felt like being electrocuted. I was screaming into the gag. Finally the car stopped and the trunk was opened.
Nothing happened. The sun was standing high and heating up the hood and blanket, midday. The tension increased. Where was I?
After a while, the ropes were removed and my ankles unlocked. I was lifted out of the trunk and put on my feet. When the blanket was removed and I felt his hands on my body, I knew it was Alan. I was so relieved my legs buckled. He caught me.
He led me across the yard and into a building. Inside, the temperature was cool, concrete floor. There was a lot of space around us, not like a house; a barn.
He motioned me to stop. He hooked a chain hanging from the ceiling onto the collar, put a spreader bar between my ankles and left me standing.
First I was shell-shocked. But as I stood there and nothing more happened, anger dwelled up and took over. How could he do this to me? All along it had been him. His orders had ravaged my body. He had caused the pain. He had deposited me and probably sterilized me like you would drop off a dog at the vet to get fixed. I did not want to be pierced and sterilized. He did not seek my permission nor would I have given it to him.
I had not finished the thought, when the unbearable truth was dawning on me. Yes, I had given consent. I had given him absolute control over me and he had taken it. I had set no limits, he had respected no limits. I almost collapsed. An animal like sound came from my chest as I realized what I had done. I wanted to run away, hit out but was immobilized and forced to stand still unless I wanted to choke.
I was standing there for several hours, alone. I could make no move to express my frustration, saw nothing, heard nothing, and it made things so much worse. By the end of the afternoon, I was reduced to tears, an absolute nothing, a non-entity, just his possession.
When he came back, he removed the leash. He buckled a second collar above my metal collar. Like the hood, it was made of synthetic material, wide and heavy. I felt the touch of more metal and had to lift my chin to be comfortable.
He removed the hood, the gag and the spreader bar, but left the blindfold and earplugs. I felt him watching me. I said nothing.
He pushed me down on my knees and fed me with cold and tasteless porridge. The collar forced me to bend my head back if I wanted to open my mouth, but I was hungry and ate until he stopped. Then a bottle of water. I wanted to ask him "Why" but knew that he would not answer nor would I be able to hear anything he said.
He moved me to another place where he hosed me down with cold water, head, body and all. I was so startled that I lost control over my bladder. I had enough.
"You bast..." The electric shock hit immediately.
I was on the ground, began to cry. The collar shocked again and again and again.
When I finally got myself under control, he finished the washing then cleaned the piercings with disinfectant and the soothing liquid they had used at the clinic.
He returned the hood and got me on my feet. Taking a firm grip on my right upper arm, he walked me across the barn. I felt a rubber mat under my feet. He pressed me down on the floor and locked my ankles. While pressing his knee into the small of my back, he reconnected my wrists so my hands were pointing towards the opposite elbow, left arm above the right, both hands facing out. He left.
First I did not move. I was lying on my side, feeling the unyielding grip of the restraints on my wrists and ankles. I was staring into the darkness and listened to my heartbeat. I smelled a horse.
After a while I mustered the energy to explore my surroundings. I almost immediately gave up. I did not dare to roll onto my belly because my nipples were still sensitive. Lying onto my locked wrists hurt and I could not move my legs against each other to push myself around. I tried to get onto my knees and sit up only to fall over repeatedly. I was crying of frustration, even more so when my next jerks banged my head into a wooden wall.
After reassembling my strength, I pushed against the wall and was just about to sit up when I realized that he was standing next to me. I almost screamed from the terror. He opened the padlocks to insert a short piece of chain between my wrists and ankles so I could no longer get up, or stretch out.
His action got me over the verge. I was terrified of him. He could do anything to me and he would not let me get away. The fear was back, I smelled it and it became irrational. It was like being sucked into the swirl of a river where exhaustion, soreness, humiliation, dejection, darkness and fear mixed and culminated at an unbearable level. I almost physically felt falling further into the abyss.
When I woke up later in the night, I knew that I had hit rock bottom. I was strangely calm. What reason had not achieved, sleep had. I remembered our times together, the way I had felt about him, his smile, his eyes. In spite of what he had done to me, I realized that there was still this irrational tie called love. At least that is what it had been; the bond was still there but had its matrix changed? Who was I to him and why did he do this to me?
As my feelings and mind battled over whether I could trust him, anger was returning, and a resolve to not give in. I was not yet beaten and given that there was no way back, I would put my whole effort into going forward. The question was just how difficult he would make it and, I had to admit, there was the fear that he would hurt me more and that he was altogether a different person than I assumed he was.
I decided to not brood further. The night was cool. In spite of the chain between my ankles and wrists I was still able to move somewhat. I shifted towards the wall, which I had hit earlier, then tried to curl up and get some more warmth. From the smell and the feel of the wall, I assumed I was in a horsebox. It really didn't matter, did it? He had put me here and I had to wait for his next move. I went back to sleep.
I was awake and waiting for him in the morning, so was prepared when his hand touched me. He removed the chain but left the padlocks. He helped me up, steadying me as I was swaying and trying to get the aches out of my legs. Then I just stood there, sensed him observing me. His hand went over my breasts; touching the rings in my nipples.
His presence returned the chaos to my head. I tried to sort out my feelings but couldn't. I needed to communicate, see his eyes, to understand what he wanted from me and who I was to him. But he did not let me communicate. The hood and the collar with its threat to shock denied it. The padlocked ankle and wrist cuffs were firm. I could only stand there, stare into the dark and feel his hands on my body, hands that I knew and hands that I loved.
I bit on my lips and reminded myself, I had agreed to this. The Power of Attorney and the Letter of Consent stated that I agreed for him to do anything to me that I could do to myself as a self-determining and sane adult. I could get myself pierced, hairs cut and removed and tubes plugged without that I needed a psychological evaluation. He had done it. I had also agreed for him to keep me confined, have oral, vaginal and anal sex any time he wanted, and he could punish me to the extent it did not maim me. I was his.
After a while, he let go of my ankles and gave me some relief by connecting the wrists behind my back with a piece of chain which permitted my arms to move to the side with the chain stretched across my butt. He had no troubles keeping me under control. The wristbands had four points of attachment and given that they had been locked side to side, he simply used the ones on the inside to attach the longer chain before finally removing the padlock between the wrists. My elbows were sore and I was glad to be able to loosen them up even though I could not do much else, at least not while he was around.
He mounted a leather halter over my breasts, straps over the shoulders and locked in front. It was tight and as he closed it, I realized that my nipples were protruding through holes. He touched them and I felt my body responding immediately. I bit my lips harder.
He connected a leash to a ring that was placed on the halter between my breasts. A tug and I was force to following him outside where a horse was waiting. He mounted it and took me for a walk.
I was not used to walking barefoot. And, not being able to see or hear, I had to find my footing based on my exploring feet and the leash. First, I was terrified of falling and was dragging behind. After a while I recognized that it was easier if I kept close to his leg, anticipating turns and the unevenness of the road through my body. I could have put my hand on his foot, hold on to it. I did not dare. I could not bear the thought of him driving me away.
I was so focused on keeping my footing, it could have been ten minutes or an hour by the time he stopped. I felt the tip of a riding crop touching my belly just above my crotch. When I did not respond, he gave me a slap. He wanted me to pee. I felt the blood in my cheeks, humiliation still left in me. I tried to hunch down. He stopped me with the leash and another swipe, harder now. I peed standing. Then a slap on my back. I did not need to. I tried to shake my head but because of the collar jiggled my body and breasts instead. My humiliation deepened but he accepted it. We walked on and I began to cry, silently.
He took it slowly. Nevertheless I felt like I’d run a marathon by the time we returned. He changed the leash to the collar and removed the halter and hood. The water was terribly cold when he hosed me down. I squirmed trying to get away. A swipe with the riding crop. I screamed. Another shock from the collar. I managed to remain standing, trembling.
Afterwards he cleaned the piercings using both the disinfectant and the other lotion. I was surprised that there was hardly any pain left; the spots were tender but none of the biting pain of open wounds. He motioned me to spread my legs. I felt him pushing a metal rod through the rings in the labia. He was careful, aligned them from alternating sides. I felt his warm hands, then the click. My vagina was locked with only the ring from the clit protruding.
He pushed me down on my knees. The same tasteless porridge, then a bottle of water. He cleaned my face and teeth. After I had cleaned out my mouth, I felt the tip of his cock. I hesitated briefly, then opened my mouth and took him inside. While making him hard, I was wondering why I was not biting him. Every fiber in my body screamed to do so, to take revenge. But I simply kept working on him. I did not do what I knew he liked, was much more mechanic. It nevertheless got him to orgasm quickly. I swallowed and let him slip out.
He gave me no indication whether he was pleased or not. He returned the hood. I felt his hand between my legs. He established that I was wet and I felt betrayed by my body.
He pulled me to my feet and took me to the house, now using the leash to my collar. I was wondering whether resistance or obedience was worse while being led around like an animal, but ultimately just followed him over gravel, tile and wood floor into his space. After a couple of turns he pushed me down to lie on the wooden floor.
He connected both ankles and wrists to each other using the padlocks straight on the restraints. He added two leather cuffs to my upper arms and pulled them together until my elbows almost touched. He locked a metal bar to the ties on the elbows and wrists, pulled up my ankles and connected them to the other end. I was on my side and immobilized, my shoulders straining to balance the pressure on the elbows.
He pushed a pillow between my knees, ensuring there was no pressure on my genitals, and connected something to the rings on my nipples and clit. Through the wooden floor I felt him moving a chair and sitting down no more than one or two meters away.
I tried to reassemble my muscles in a position where there was the least pain and strain but it was impossible. I could wiggle my fingers and toes, otherwise was strung like a bowstring, hips and breasts trusted forward. I tried to think about the morning’s events but was interrupted within seconds by slight vibrations on my right nipple. There was no pain but given my sensitivity, the sexual stimulation was immediate. It stopped after a few seconds. After a couple of minutes it was the other nipple, then the clit.
My focus was soon captivated by the unholy alliance of my sexual epicenters. I clenched, felt my locked labia, the clit ring. Another vibration and I was wet. I tried to squirm in the futile hope to find some release. Instead it only caused further tensions on my shoulders and elbows. Soon I was covered in sweat and was breathing harder.
He stood up, walked away and returned after a few minutes. He hunched down and touched my breasts. I smelled his familiar scent. His hand slowly moved down to the naval. I tried to suppress the urge to lift my hips to get him closer to my crotch only to realize that I was shivering from anticipation of what was not to come. I suppressed a moan.
He stood up and, apparently resumed his work at a desk. Another bout of vibrations to my clit and I felt the first trickle of my juices on my leg. The vibrations slowed down. I realized there was a connection between my arousal and the stimulation, more stimulation whenever the wetness between my legs disappeared. He returned at regular intervals, his hands on my breasts, naval and thighs. I attempted in vain to grind my hips, the pull on my arms increased.
My world was reduced to my sex and his hands, and soon to my sex and the expectation, waiting and desire for his hands. The vibrations were strong enough to get me into heat and the longing for a peak but never over. I felt the bolt locking my vagina and knew only one thing: he had the key.
Different to the day before in the car there was no pain from the wounds as such, just close to painful sexual stimulation. Imagine your nipples exposed to the coldness of a winter day, stiff and erect then a vibration. It was heaven and hell modulated by the wetness between my thighs.
On two occasions he dripped more lotion into the wounds. Again I was surprised there was no pain, indeed the vibration only seemed to assist getting the liquid to the right places and preventing the rings from getting stuck to the wounds. After the second time, he gave me water and a few mouthful of pasta.
In the afternoon it got worse. There was no way to escape the buzzing, no way to get to orgasm. He returned less frequently and the desire for him became almost unbearable. I smelled him. He was so close. I wanted to scream but couldn't.
When he finally released me from the pole, he pulled me to my knees and I had to please him again. I was torn between the animalistic desire for his smell and proximity and my head, which told me to bite. Before I could sort out my feelings, his hot semen filled my throat. I swallowed and felt the unfulfilled desire pounding between my legs.
After removing the ties between my elbows and freeing my ankles, he took me outside into the grass to pee. I tried to hunch down and he did not let me. I was furious.
We went back to the barn where he washed my legs, then hooked the collar to the chain hanging from the ceiling and put the spreader bar between my ankles. I spent the evening standing there, fuming.
Later I had to do him a third time. This time he mounted a ring gag, I guess he feared that I would bite him. A bottle of water and cold porridge was the only pleasure I got.
He put me back into the horsebox for the night. He inserted a steel cable through both wristbands and after feeding the longer end through a loop on the other end he locked it to the padlock between my ankle cuffs. If I bent my legs, I was able to move my hands to the side. If I stretched out, my wrists were pulled together behind my back. He added a chain between the loop and the collar, making sure I could not step over the cable and move my hands to the front.
With some effort I explored my surroundings. From the experience of the previous night, I feared he’d come back and restrain me further but he didn't. I even managed to stand up, but given the padlock between my feet could not walk around. Shuffling around, I confirmed that I was in a horsebox. A clean rubber mat, wooden walls reaching to my shoulders, steel bars above, door locked.
I discovered a blanket in one corner and sat down next to it. With my legs pulled up, my arms were on my side and I tried to get one hand to my crotch, while moving the other to the back. The cable and chain were just not long enough to succeed. I was swearing at him.
I tried to think, put reason and order into a jumble of conflicting feelings. The clinic and the sterilization, the bolt locking my vagina, the rings, his hands, anger, relieve over still being with him, his control of my future, my signature on the papers, humiliation, love and desire, the time we went rock-climbing, my desire to submit to him, fear of him. I could not sort them out and finally shuffled under the blanket and went to sleep.
The next days were repetitions with minor variations. Every day, I got three helpings of cum, now always ring-gagged. The walks became longer and I learned to pee and relieve myself on command while standing. As time progressed, I managed to remain mostly clean while doing my business, a rare opportunity for some perverse pride.
During the day, it was severe bondage and being close to him, his hands at random intervals on my body, stimulations to my nipples and clit, but never enough to come even close to orgasm. He was a master, pressed all the right buttons to make me tumbling into subspace with bonds and touch, only for my intellect and fury to take over during the long sessions of standing in the barn in the evening with nothing to focus, no sound and sight, fury over my body's reactions, fury over his control. After a couple of days, I was like a bitch in heat, releasing my juices whenever he was near. My senses became so fucked up that I thought I smelled him coming whenever he entered the barn or the horsebox.
The betrayal of my body and his absolute control fuelled a fury I did not know to have. I was just there for him, juiced up whenever he wanted me to be, frustrated of unmet desire, pleasing him on his cock and for his perverse needs, his sex toy and nothing else. He was using all his psychological tricks to condition my body and there was nothing I could do about it. And still with every touch he transmitted another message to me, that he cared about me, cherished my body, wanted to tease me to the extreme because ...
because... I did not know the because and I did not want to listen. I was just furious.
I was hoping for my piercings to get inflamed, stop him at his game. Instead they seemed to heal rapidly and became ever-willing assistants to his playing with my body and awakening an uncontrollable desire for him.
It was after three days. I was lying in the horsebox in the evening, tied at night now always in the same manner, cable loop through the wrist cuffs going to the ankles, a chain up to the collar. It gave me enough room to loosen my muscles and sleep somewhat comfortably but it did not permit me to get my hands on my nipples or sex, bar making any attempt to get out of the box. I was close to going crazy from my lack of relief, sight and sound, was squirming and clenching my vagina until I found a grip on the bolt holding my labia sealed. I was just about to get to the orgasm, when the cold water hit. I screamed, the collar shocked.
I wanted to kill him. I felt his hand releasing the bolt on the labia rings, only to reinsert it a few seconds later. I tried to close my legs and winced in pain. He had slipped studded rings onto the bolt. I was no longer able to clench, unless I wanted to draw blood.
I hissed at him, the only thing I could do without being shocked.
The next morning, things got harder. When I tried to get close to his leg during the morning ride, a hit by the riding crop drove me away. I had to walk behind with only the leash on the halter as a guide. He chose a fast pace and I received several more swipes when he thought I was dragging along too slowly. I was glad I was able to relieve myself without getting the counts too high.
Back at the barn, he washed and fed me. Before his usual morning blow, he removed the bolt to push a vibrator into my vagina. The bolt with the studded rings was returned, locking the vibrator inside and ensuring I kept my legs apart. He ring-gagged me then stuck his cock into my throat. A tug on the nose ring requested me to get going. When I did, he turned the vibrator on.
The stimulation was strong and I couldn't keep my attention on his cock as the orgasm was building up. However, the moment I stopped, the vibrator was turned off. After five cycles, he got off in me, while I was left once again unfulfilled. I keened of frustration and was rewarded with a shock from the collar. For the first time I feared that things might never change and I would never get release.
To my horror, he did not take me to the office. While still on my knees, he locked my ankles and connected the nose ring to the chain hanging from the ceiling. He pulled my elbows together then proceeded to wrap rope around my breasts. My nipples got sore simply from the pressure. He tied the leftover ropes to the ceiling chain, making sure that I could do no permanent damage to the septum if I fell, but not enough to give me support to balance on my knees. He pulled a string through the nipple rings and down to the clit, and then I felt the familiar move of him connecting the wires from another vibrator to the nipple rings, but not the clit.
He left. After a few minutes, the buzzing on my nipples began. It was set at irregular intervals and sufficiently strong to make the indirect connection to the clit through the string. The vibrations drove me crazy within the first cycle. I wanted to clench, but had to concede to the pain of the studs. I tried to release the pressure between my nipples and the clit by hunching down, more pain in my nose. After several circles, the internal connection between nipples and clit had firmed up, but there was no way I could come to orgasm.
When he returned after about two hours, I was panting and close to screaming, thinking I would go crazy. He ring-gagged me, put his cock into my throat and turned the vibrator in my vagina high as I began to work on him furiously. The same game, whenever I stopped to try to get to orgasm without the benefit of clenching, the vibrator stopped. When he was satisfied, I got water and was left to the buzz on my nipples.
He gave me some food before entering me for the third time on that day. He came, I did not. I screamed, and was rewarded by a shock. Back to my nipples.
When I was on him for the forth time, I was determined not to stop. I focused on his cock irrespective of what was going on between my legs. The vibrator stayed on and he was just about to come when I succeeded. It was the most unbelievable orgasm I ever had. He held me up as I went through wave after wave and until I passed out.
When I woke up, I was lying on my side, the rubber mat indicating that I was in the horsebox, my breasts throbbing, the ropes gone. I was deflated, literally over the climax of days of frustrations. Then I felt his presence next to me and realized that I was unrestrained. The shocking collar was gone. As I began to move, he pulled me up so I was sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around me. He was naked.
The fury exploded. I tried to oppose but he quickly subdued me and I began to cry.
There was chaos in my head, my feelings in uproar, contradicting, fighting, and no way to sort them out. I had tried before and failed, my cool logic and brain just not able to deal with what he was doing to me. After breaking all rational communication channels, he had stepped over all barriers, raised fear and sexual desires close to unacceptable levels, humiliated me, now he was holding me in his arms and, unbelievably, I still felt this irrational bond to him born from three weeks in the mountains, maintained I didn't know why. And he was in control.
"Why?" First I whispered it then I screamed it.
He did not answer, the hood, blindfold and ear plugs stayed on.
Cries turned to uncontrollable sobs. His lips, tongue and teeth began to caress my neck and shoulders. I struggled, he held me. After a while he turned me on my back, straddling me, using his hands to pin my wrists to the ground. I was in the most vulnerable position, women are raped like this. Still he kept on caressing my body. From the shoulders to the breasts, his hot tongue circling my nipples, touching the rings.
I screamed and struggled, desperation oscillating between my desire for him and the need to stay in control in a situation where he had taken all control. I felt like a couple of weeks ago dangling on the ropes with 150 meters of free fall below me, asked to give him a blow job upside down, however I did not know whether the security ropes were still there or whether he was ready to let me plunge into the void. There was nothing my mind could hold on to and build up on.
I felt his tongue, his proximity, smell and warmth, the way he was holding me so I could not move. My sobs became fewer, my inside calmer. The battle was lost; still I made a last attempt to sort out my feelings, my intellect trying to remain in charge. I found no answer and I knew he would give me no answer. There was a minute of absolute silence in my existence. I listened to my instinct and knew I was safe. And for the first time ever my brain gave in and submitted both to my instinct and him.
He licked the sweat between my breasts and, as my muscles relaxed, let go of my arms and proceeded to the naval. A few more sobs but otherwise I was just lying there increasingly focused on his play. As he moved towards my crotch, I spread my legs and realized that my vagina was locked. He licked the juices on my thighs, but made no move to remove the bolt. Instead he began to circle the clit, touching the ring, teasing until I could no longer hold it and trust my hips towards him. He stopped.
I had the distinct feeling that he was waiting for me. He would not remove the bolt without me asking him.
"Please take me."
He didn't move.
His warm hands were removing the bolt.
I woke up later in the night. I felt him sleeping next to me, my head nested in his shoulder, arms around me and his hand on my belly. I didn't dare to move. We had made unimaginable love. I didn't see him, I didn't hear him, just felt his body and communication through his lips, tongue, hands and careful trusts.
Later he had carried me outside to pee then washed me with warm water, tender, careful, sensual. I was disappointed when he locked my wrists and ankles and carried me to the horsebox. But he soon returned with a warm meal and juice. I did not talk. Given that the hood was still on and I was in the horsebox, I knew he did not want me to. He surprised me when he joined me for the night. He removed the padlocks and wrapped the blanket around us while taking me into his arms.
As I was lying in his arms, I felt the safety and comfort of my submission to him stronger than ever, the first time comfortable with my restraints. It was not a blind yes, it was a deep acceptance of him being in charge. As I snuggled deeper into him, I also knew there were two areas my feelings could not yet agree to or even deal with, the nose ring and that he had sterilized me.
The nose ring was all about pride. Whenever I felt it or he used it to make me comply, like the press of a button my anger exploded, yet my body had no chance but to display it and obey. The other piercings were different. It had not been my choice to wear all that metal on my body but his way of using them, teasing me both through body and mind, made them part of the love-hate relationship intrinsic to b/d.
About the sterilization, I did not want to think about it, it hurt too much.
The following morning I had few expectations for whatever was to come. And true, we went for our usual morning walk, then porridge and hose down, both cold. But the shocking collar was gone and I was not penalized when I yelped under the cold stream of the water hose. He tied a heavy leather belt around my waist, changed the bolt through the labia rings and connected a wire to the clit ring. The weight of the belt indicated that it contained battery packs. No blowjob.
He took me to his office where he pressed me down on my knees, then removed the leash and unlocked my hands. I was no longer restrained. He put me in position, fingers linked behind my neck, elbows wide, back arched, breast trust out, knees spread and ankles crossed. When he was happy, he made a quick manipulation on the belt, touched my left breast, and then went over to his desk.
Vibrations began on the clit ring. When my juices began to flow, it stopped. After a while, I tried to find a more comfortable position and moved, a slight shock to the clit. I resumed the original position, another shock, the vibrator turned on. I soon worked it out. I moved, I got a shock; if I was not sufficiently wet, the vibrator turned on.
Things became harder after a while, my muscles unused to the strain, my elbows began to shake. When I could hold it no longer, and released my hands, he came over, locked my wrists behind my back and took me back to the horsebox. Ankles were locked and he switched something on the belt. He hosed me down with cold water and left.
It was sobering. He had put padlocks straight onto my restraints and I could not move much. I had not even sufficient slack to explore the belt.
I spent the rest of the day lying on the floor, doing nothing. I got bored and tried to use my imagination to get some of the morning arousal back. As I got wet, I was rewarded by an electric shock to my clit. A second one five minutes later. I was afraid I would not be able to get myself under control. Fear did. I tried to sleep, couldn't.
He came back and got me out of the box for the evening pee and more porridge. It was all business -- he hardly touched me. When he left me for the night using the usual set of cable between wrists and ankles and chain to the collar, I was close to tears.
The following day, he put me in the same position except that he kept me standing. When I could hold it no longer and broke the position, I went back to the box, a hose down, then time out. I hated it. I did not even get close to a climax, he simply wanted me wet while in position and forbade any arousal while in the barn. And there was nothing more to my life, no intellectual stimulation, nothing, just existence.
On the third day, I put all my resolve in holding on to the position. I did not want to go to the barn. He kept changing the poses, and after a while I was rewarded with a decent lunch and it was only in the afternoon when my muscles gave in and he took me outside.
As time progressed, I was able to make it through the day. My body went on autopilot, juices flowing whenever I was on stage. My vagina was aching and I was wondering whether he ever wanted to get another blowjob. Also, I realized that he further attacked my mind. I could either do what he wanted or be out in the barn, in both instances there was nothing my mind could fixate on. It was submission and focus on what he wanted me to do, or penalty and focus on where he wanted me to be. I bit on my teeth, played my own mind games -- math, poems, geography, songs -- and assumed that he would not continue it forever.
Well he did worse: he removed the belt. I was so horny but knew that I was not supposed to get wet while in the barn. I could hold it for one day then gave in to the temptation. I wondered how he knew. Whatever it was, the whipping told me what he thought about it. He used the riding crop and kept on my butt until I was screaming. I was definitely not among the lucky ones who could get off on pain. I cried myself to sleep.
He did not relent and got me back to the study the next day. I was sore and returned to the box within two hours. I was desperate. Would he ever give me a break?
I got it the following day. After our morning walk, he tied a long lead between the collar and a tree and left me outside. My wrists were loosely connected on the back and I spent the day sunbathing and thinking about my former job. In spite of the pleasure, I was careful and did not even dare to think about sex. In the evening, he pushed me down on my knees for the long awaited blowjob. No gag. I tried hard to give him the best. I wondered why, but had no answer.
I should have known that things usually got tougher after pleasure. When I arrived in the study the next day, I felt his touch on my left shoulder blade. Resigned to another day of posing for him, I waited for him to put me into a position. After about a minute, he reconnected the leash to the collar and brought me back to the barn and into the horsebox. A cold shower from the hose, the padlock between the restraints. I was bewildered. Why?
The following day, the same thing. To the office, a touch, five minutes later the cold hose down. This time I shouted at him. "What do you want?" He gave my butt a 10-minute beating with the riding crop. I was devastated and over time it turned to anger.
Why was I putting up with this? I was no more than a sex toy to him. Everything so far had been about sex, anything beyond just an imagination of my screwed up mind. I was there for him to see, play and fuck with, nothing else. Whenever he had enough, he just deposited me in this stall with its hard rubber mat, like an animal. I was no match for him. He had sealed these restraints onto me and there was no escape. He was stronger and I could not see and hear, so it was easy for him to keep me under lock and key. And if ever the police should arrive at his house, he had a convincing proof that I was here out of my own free will. He claimed to be with the police, but who was he really?
And why the humiliation? He had never done so when we were in the mountains. Did I challenge him too much? Was it one way for him to get off on me? Look at her, I trained her to pee and relieve on command, that nose ring is really convenient to keep her in her place. Would he show me to his friends? Have other people seen me like this beyond the clinic? I did not know. I was blind and deaf since weeks and had no idea what was going on around me. During our morning walks he could drag me along a highway and I would never know.
It went round and round. I was furious and was crying, but like always could do nothing about it. My wrists and ankles were locked and I could not even find that stupid blanket as much as I was jerking around like a fish out of water. Why was he doing this to me?
When he got me in the evening to pee and one more round of that disgusting porridge, I tried hard not to show him that I had cried. Good thing I had the hood. I was wondering whether I should refuse to eat. But as I knew him, he would find a way around it. I hated the porridge. If he added some vitamins, it was probably enough to keep me alive forever, and it was cheap.
I was fuming into the night until I had enough. Using my imagination, I got myself aroused and wet. It did not need much these days given that he kept me juiced up whenever he was around. He was back within ten minutes. I wondered how he knew.
He pulled me out of the horse stall and spread-eagled me upright in the barn. He used the riding crop. It was not as bad as the whip but this time he did not keep it to my butt. He did not relent until my whole body was aflame and I was crying. I spent the night in the spread-eagle, feeling safe and sorry. I had challenged him and he had answered.
He touched me in the morning to check whether I was awake. I expected him to release me. I was tired and my arms were numb, but the effect of the beating had almost gone. I was completely unprepared when the riding crop struck again. He gave me another whipping. Even though it was physically the same, this one went straight to the soul and I was sobbing uncontrollably when he was done. It taught me to never underestimate him; whether he loved me or not, he would not hesitate to punish me.
He returned an hour later to give me porridge and water, but left me standing. It was a strange day. I was hurting all over, could hardly stand and quivered from the strain on my limbs. But instead of anger, I was thinking about him. Who was he and what was I to him? Was I just a sex toy or was there more? And why the dual beating? Was is just a release for his anger, or was it about something that was important to him?
Like before my mind could not find an answer. Over the day the ache to find out and do what he wanted became stronger than anything else and I hardly realized when he hosed me down in the early afternoon and put me back into the horsebox.
I woke up in the middle of the night. I knew and could hardly wait for the morning to come.
Indeed as he took me back to the office, he touched me on my breast. I went down onto the knees, ankles crossed, back arched, fingers linked behind my neck. Every position had a different touch. I stayed and as I felt the moisture flowing down my legs, I smiled.
There were about 20 different positions and I learned them all over the next two days that is I did not recall them all and he let me feel the riding crop whenever I didn't. Another lesson, don't play your own mind games when he wants you to focus on him. Like school I thought, cynicism rising as the number of slaps increased.
After coming back from the morning walk on the following day, food and hose down, he spread-eagled me in the barn. I was afraid to get another beating, more so not knowing why. But instead he put thin half-inch leather bands around my wrists, ankles, upper arms, another around my belly and finally one going across my shoulder blades, crossing between my breasts and returning to the back. They were all made of thin leather, and he stretched them before he seemed to rivet and glue them close. I was wondering what was to come.
Back in the office I was not disappointed. After he disconnected the leash, I was left standing. He locked my ankles and wrists so I could not move. Then I felt a slight motion under the band around the upper arm, followed by another on my belly. I immediately understood. The leather bands contained small vibrators, I assumed activated by a remote control. The vibration was so slight, I doubted that they used much electricity, but they were also easily missed.
After playing through the sequence once, he unlocked my restraints then activated the one on my shoulder blade. I followed suit with the upright position. He kept changing them and I realized that the tiny tugs were easily missed. As the day before, he had brought the riding crop for if I did or if I could not remember.
I still had no idea what he wanted with all of this. He probably got a thrill from me doing what he wanted and some of the positions were quite obscene, but what the heck as long I did not have to do this in the Sydney Opera House, he could have his fun and I had my workout. I realized however two things; I learned to tune into my body and that the blindfold and ear plugs helped to focus on the tiny vibrations.
During the night I explored the leather bands. They were tight, riveted and sealed closed. I could have probably pulled them off, but I didn't want to.
I was somewhat frustrated when he returned me to the stall after our next morning walk, restrained so I could hardly move. What did I do wrong?
Things changed in the afternoon. He took me for another long walk, then removed the hood and washed me with warm water and soap, hair, face and all. He left me in the sun to dry, but did not return the hood. I tried to remember how long I had been under the hood, three or four weeks, maybe more. I felt the sun on my face, the wind and almost began to cry. I was both excited and terrified, knowing that he would not let me out of sensory deprivation without a big bang.
He took me inside. We did not go into his study but another room. He disconnected my ankles and wrists, and removed the earplugs. I heard him whisper, "Keep your eyes closed." The blindfold was removed.
I kept my eyes closed, breathing hard and close to an orgasm. He waited until I calmed down, said no word, the room absolutely silent, I only heard my breathing. Then he took me in quick sequence through all the positions. I had to focus hard to not miss any of them and keeping my eyes closed was no longer difficult.
Then he turned the music on. He took it slowly and the music kept changing as he indicated me to change position. I had not been able to see or hear for close to a month, and the music went straight to my core. As I began to understand the beauty of what I was doing, tears began streaming down my face.
I was at it for a long time, didn't want it to stop, like in a trance. When he turned the music off, I kept my eyes closed. He walked over put his arms around me. My body exploded in an orgasm.
I finally opened my eyes. He was sitting on the floor, next to me.
"I am sorry." I said. His eyes were soft.
"What do you mean?" I had troubles expressing what I felt.
"You made me feel beautiful in a manner that I never felt before. I don't know why." I was thinking, he just waiting then it dawned on me.
"That music, it was me. That is how you chose to describe me."
"So, why do you feel sorry then?" The tears were back, I looked away. He did not relent, forced me to look back at him.
"Because... because I thought you just wanted to get off on me, get your own pleasure from my degradation, humiliation and pain... and the blow jobs." The latter came almost with a sob.
His eyes were locked on mine but they remained calm. I thought I was looking into his soul and yet I could still not figure out who he was and felt as insecure as ever.
He gave me a kiss and got up. "Stay there."
I looked around. I was lying in quite a large living room, the light set low. I liked what I saw. Light wood furniture, colorful rugs, a fireplace, white walls and ceiling intersected by dark wooden beams. The room was tidy and clean.
He returned with a plate of food and a large glass of apple juice. He sat down next to me, pulled my head into his lap then fed me chicken with rice and salad. I ate slowly, relishing every bite. My mind was filled with ten thousand questions but the magic of the moment forbade me asking any of them. We were both silent.
When I was done, he picked me up and carried me over to his bedroom where he put me down on the bed. While he was undressing, I was looking at the rings in my nipples and genitals. I was just about to touch them, when he thundered, "Don't!" I sank back, arms to my side. His eyes were smiling.
He took a rope from a drawer and tied my wrists and ankles to opposite ends of the bed, so I had some slack but not enough to get my hands to my face.
He straddled me and began to caress my body with this lips, tongue and teeth. I moaned. I wanted him so much inside, my vagina started to ache almost immediately. When he got to my nipples, I had the first orgasm. He proceeded down between my breasts, to my belly. I was afraid what would happen when he hit my clit. He worked his way around it, instead licking the juices streaming out of me until I screamed for want of having him in me. He stopped. His and my eyes locked before he slowly touched my clit with the tip of his hot tongue. I rode the waves for an eternity.
Sunlight was flooding the bedroom when I woke up in the morning. I smelled breakfast, coffee. He brought a tray with two plates and cups, which he carried to a table near the window. When he returned, he was looking at me. He smiled when he saw my wet crotch. "Is this a response to the sausages or me?" I blushed.
I had always been an ample excreter, but he definitely had honed my body over the past weeks. As he talked and I saw his gaze on me, moisture turned to trickle. "Are you aware that you are an absolute beautiful and unique sexual being?"
My blush seemed to extend over my entire body. There was only one way I knew to break the spell.
"Please, can I go and pee?"
He laughed and walked over to release me, but locked my hands behind my back before letting me go. The bathroom had a wall-sized mirror and I couldn't help but look at my body with its piercings and metal bands, the leather bands were gone. I was thinner, my hair short and unruly but not too bad looking. He showed up behind me and gave me a slap. "Come on, you do not want to keep a man waiting."
I had hoped for a normal breakfast, I mean sitting at the table and so. Instead he chose to feed me while on my knees, hands locked, constantly aware of an increasing puddle between my legs, my vagina hurting.
I felt terribly insecure, more like a newborn baby than anything else. The music, his description of me and my sexuality had been upsetting, I had troubles accepting that sexuality could be so much cherished, so much part of who I was and called beautiful with no single thought of obscenity. And I felt embarrassed because I had fallen once again into the trap where I thought that b/d was all about the Dom while all along he had worked towards uncovering feelings in me which were so sensitive I had never exposed them to the world.
He had chosen to feed me by hand. It was outright sensual and only contributed to increasing my self-awareness. I was glad when he pulled out his cock. I drew it out as long as I could and from his groans I deduced that sometimes the controls were mine.
After a shower, he spread-eagled me to the bed, with about an inch of slack on each of my limbs. Then he tortured me with his tongue, focusing entirely on my crotch, but careful not to touch my clit. Every time, my back was arching and I was about to come, he gave the clit ring a painful tug, waited for a few seconds, then went back to lick the skin. He unlocked the vagina, only to be able to tease between my lips. After an hour I was screaming on top of my voice, begging him to let me come. Like the evening before, he finally looked at me then slowly extended his tongue to touch my clit and let the volcano erupt.
He let me recover, gave me some juice, and then continued. By the early afternoon he had conditioned another switch into my circuits. He could drive me wild by licking the skin around my vagina, making me buck like a horse. However, the orgasm was only released when he extended his tongue to the clit. He proved the point by doing nothing else than touching the clit three times over an hour, every time getting an orgasm. He was extremely pleased. I was absolutely exhausted, hardly able to function anymore.
He left me on the bed and I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was alone, spread-eagled onto his bed. The sun was still shining; it was late afternoon. The house was quiet. I was hungry and needed to pee. I looked at the restraints and noted that he had simply used carabineers to tie me to the bed. Ropes were slung around each bedpost, the longer end fed through a loop and linked with the carabineers to my cuffs.
I tried to get to them and couldn't and it made me furious. This was such a casual way to keep me confined. He could open them with one grip, I couldn't; the firmness of the cuffs prevented it and the ropes were not long enough to get me the help of the teeth, bedposts or anything to open the carabineers.
I considered calling for Alan, but my pride did not let me. I lifted my head and looked at my body, legs spread, the rings in my nipples. The piercings seemed to be healing okay, except that the rings kept my nipples poking out like two soldiers, always alert and in wait for him, as was the rest of my body.
The nose ring was itching. I tried to rub it against my shoulder and failed. I hated it. Why did I say I was sorry yesterday? He had induced all those feelings. Why should I be sorry for them? I was indeed just here for his pleasure; he was playing havoc with my feelings while my brain was drying up.
After a while I smelled dinner. Maybe if he had left me there for longer, I would have managed to find my way back to subspace, but he returned too soon and caught me while I was steaming along like a dragon.
"You are awake." He smiled. I looked away. He let go of my arms and asked me to turn to my side so he could lock them on my back.
"Alan, can't we just have normal dinner for once?" I kept my eyes averted.
He did not answer immediately. I became afraid, felt the wetness between my legs, the sting of the tears in my eyes. I was swearing at myself.
"We will. Now turn around." His voice was soft. I knew exactly what he meant. With an effort, I crossed my wrists behind my back and he locked them. After releasing my ankles he helped me to my feet and took me to the bathroom. After I peed and relieved myself, he washed me with the shower hose and a sponge, slowly and carefully, making sure that he did not leave out a single square centimeter of my body, almost like a ritual.
After toweling me dry, he examined the piercings. As my body responded to his touch, I bit my lips, even more so when he moved my head backwards so he could examine the nose ring. He was focusing completely on my body while my soul was aching and I saw that he knew. Yet he proceeded.
"Lie on the floor. I want to treat them."
I obeyed. He applied the lotion first to the nose, then the nipples and finally to the holes in my genitals, moving the rings as he apparently applied a fresh layer of sealant over the wounds.
I was observing him, his tenderness, every move emphasizing that I was his. When he was done and was just about to get up, I could hold it no longer.
"You sterilized me, didn't you?" I looked at him.
He took a long time to answer. "You agreed to submit, didn't you?" His eyes were dark and serious. I missed the narrowing which I usually saw when he was irritated. Why does he not answer me? I thought and yet he had given me the answer; he would not discuss it with me.
He left the bathroom and I remained on the cold tile floor. Something was tugging in the back of my mind but I could not grasp it.
When he returned, he ordered me to get up and spread my legs. His tone told me to not question his request. I struggled to my feet. He walked behind me and I felt something cool on my back. I saw with trepidation that he was locking a chastity belt on me, a steel belt locking over the hips, two chains leading down from the back, a crotch plate which covered the locked vagina and crotch, small holes to pee.
Looking at the belt and the locked bolt going through the labia rings, I thought 'Overkill.' It was only when he pulled part of the clit ring through a slit that I realized that the clit remained completely inside, inaccessible. He locked the belt and it felt liked it was molded and sealed onto my body.
I gasped, "You can't do that."
"Oh yes, I can!"
Worse he connected a thin chain to the clit ring to dangle between my legs just halfway down to my knees. He produced a leash and connected it to the nose ring. I looked at him disbelief in my eyes. His eyes were boring into mine, digging and grinding into the depth of my soul. If I opposed, he would not let me get away. My pride was staring back at him, I was breathing hard.
"You agreed to submit, didn't you?" It was a statement.
"It is 24/7 and I will not let you escape from this. It is not a choice I give you." A tug on my nose, another one harder. I was following him to the bedroom and the table near the window, fuming, my eyes down.
I did not wait for the tug but got down on my knees. It was normal dinner.
He brought the dinner tray and with it the hood, blindfold and earplugs. As he was feeding me with his fork, I felt the clit chain swinging between my legs, tugging and stimulating. Sex and pride, I thought. He saw me thinking about the upcoming frustrations, and had a good laugh.
"And don't you even dare to get wet while I am not there."
"How do you know when I get wet?" The question was out before I even thought about it.
"I don't think that you expect an answer to that." Yes, he had the upper hand. I blushed.
I did not dare to tell him that I was terrified to go back into sensory deprivation instead I let him proceed with mounting the blindfold, earplugs and hood.
Blind and deaf, my hands locked behind me, he led me on the nose ring to the barn. The tugging of the clit chain almost reduced my legs to jelly-o. The honeymoon was over.
In the stall, he pressed me down on the floor, removed the leash from the nose ring and tied me in the usual manner. Once alone, I couldn't get the past twenty-four hours out of my mind. My thoughts were honing into that one spot between my legs that was now inaccessible. He had left the chain on the clit ring and every slight move made me realize, it was there.
I was wondering whether I was out here because I opposed him, or had he planned it all along, or did he push me into opposition all along? Was I so predictable? My response to him using the nose ring was definitely predictable. Could I beat him at his own game and figure out what he wanted from me? I had no desire to stay another month under this hood, even less to be stimulated senselessly and no chance for relief.
The belt was uncomfortable simply by being there. It did not hurt anywhere but its firmness was a constant reminder that he was in control of my sex. I was pondering about how he knew when I got wet. It dawned on me that it probably had to do with the bolt locking my vagina. A conductivity sensor connected to a transmitter, not much magic in that.
I almost smiled, pleased by the thought that I might be able to beat him at his own game, I fell asleep.
Going on our walk the next day, he surprised me by leaving my arms unrestrained and removing the hood. The blindfold and the earplugs stayed on. I decided to not do anything with my newfound freedom. 'Submit' I told myself.
We walked off. The tugs of the clit chain turned my legs into jelly-o within the first hundred meters. I tried to grab the chain with my hand and got immediately a swipe from the riding crop. After a few more steps, my legs buckled and he realized I could not go on. He dismounted and tied the end of the clit chain to the chastity belt. We walked on. The tugging was less but still there, my existence reduced to one over-stimulated spot between my legs. I clit, ergo I am.
It was easier to balance with the hands free and he went faster, the clit chain jerking more. I knew I would feel sorry if I touched it again, that much was obvious. When he gave me a break to pee, I stood there, my crotch the epicenter of a sexual earthquake but not enough for an eruption. My whole body was tingling and I had ants in my hands. Knowing the forbidden destiny, I tried to find relief on my nipples. Wrong thought, the crop came down hard and fast.
He used the tip of the riding crop to guide my hands together on the back 'til they crossed. A tug on the leash told me to move on. I moved my hands to the side. He stopped me immediately, guided them back. Since it was difficult to walk with hands crossed, I wrapped one hand around the other wrist. Wrong move. A slap. I got slowly annoyed. Why didn't he simply lock them?
Ultimately, he got what he wanted. I walked back with my hands crossed behind my back. I lost traction twice and got a slap each time. By the time we were back at the barn, my clit was throbbing and I was almost baying for the blowjob. Instead I got the cold hose down. My hands moved involuntarily, another slap. I ate the porridge on my knees, utterly frustrated and close to screaming, even more so when he positioned me in the middle of the barn, legs apart, hands behind my back, but not restrained. No blowjob.
He added the belt with the battery packs, connected the wire to the clit ring and released the clit chain from the belt so it was swinging freely. The message was clear. I move or get wet -- I get a shock. Even though, I had trained for the various positions, this was worse. I was alone and I could theoretically move, get rid of the shocking device, probably even remove the blindfold and earplugs. I doubted that any of them were locked. And in all of that I was not supposed to get wet after he had stimulated every nerve ending in my clit to exhaustion. Bondage by mind -- where was the fun in that?
I decided to get some confirmation. I moved my arms to check whether the belt was locked. I was far from getting there, when the shock hit. He had increased the level of intensity. I almost fell over, cured once and for all from repeating the exercise.
Quite soon, my arms and legs cramped. I felt the chain moving slightly, and tried to empty my brain of sex. Anger returned. I was supposed to beat him at his own game, but how? As the minutes elapsed, my brain and clit began to compete for a losing game of frustration. Sex lost over brain. I felt the trickle, and then the shocks began. Again and again, five minutes interval. I was keening. He came, gave me another hose down then locked my hands behind my back, ankles to spreader bar, collar to the chain hanging from the ceiling. The hood went on. I was trembling.
He gave me water at lunch time but otherwise only got me for the evening pee, another day spent with waiting. The leash went to the nose ring and my existence was again reduced to anger and my crotch. Another hose down, cold porridge and into the stall. He opened the chastity belt long enough to treat the piercings then the belt was closed again.
For the first time, he left my arms and legs unrestrained but pressed me down on the floor. Don't move I told myself. I resisted the temptation to get up, explore the stall and see whether I could get out, I knew I would get a shock triggered from wherever he had placed the motion detector. However, lying on the cold rubber mat, the clit chain turned into a living extension of my body. I was so focused on it that I thought I felt it moving as I was breathing. I could hold it no longer; my hand went down between my legs.
The shock was hard and fast. I was covered in sweat. Why? What did he want to prove to me? That he owned my sexuality? Could deny it forever? Like a film, my brain replayed the picture of him touching my clit with his hot tongue. I knew I was on dangerous ground before the next shock hit, and again and again. I must have passed out. When I woke up, I was feeling absolutely empty.
I approached the next day with trepidations, fearing that I would not be able to cope with what he was expecting from me. Indeed there was no change. Sexual explosions in my crotch and hands on my back during the morning walk, cold porridge, hose down, stand in the barn, the chain tugging and stimulating, my brain supposed to keep my body under control.
My muscles were sore from the day before. I got the first shock within an hour when my hands slipped. After the fifth, he came out, tied my arms behind my back, put a spreader bar between my ankles and tied the collar to the chain hanging from the ceiling. The clit chain stayed on. Same position, but no chance to get a shock, unless I deliberately moved or wanted to think about sex. Nothing was more remote to me than that.
The day dragged on. I was wondering whether I really wanted to do this. Not much chance to get away at this stage given the metal sealed onto my body, or was there? Why was he doing this to me? What did he want? Prove to me that I was not a sex toy? I couldn't figure it out, got more frustrated and desperate as the minutes elapsed. The chain was hanging between my legs, tugging. I wanted to scream. I didn't. I wanted to move. I couldn't.
When he came in the evening, I tried hard to not show him that I was close to tears. I yearned for him to touch me, his voice, any sign what he wanted from me. He didn't. He removed the spreader bar, took me on the nose leash to pee, got my juices flowing, hosed me down, the treatment to my piercings, back into the horsebox where the porridge was waiting. My wrists remained locked.
I didn't eat the porridge, half expecting him to come back and give me a beating. He didn't. I couldn't sleep; the floor hard, my arms hurting, the chain tugging. What if I told him, I could no longer go on? Would he listen? Probably not. He was the one who gave the directions, I had agreed to that. Could I stop him? I doubted it. He wanted me to leap and he would force me to leap. Where to? I had no idea.
What did he tell me? Trust your instincts. Well, stuff them now. They were telling me nothing. Anger told me not to give in. If he wanted me to walk all my life with my hands crossed on the back, fine with me, I would not give him the benefit of defeat. It was not so easy with the clit. I feared the chain. It was obvious that he wanted me stimulated and dripping wet while going on the morning and evening walks. The hose down helped, then it was all about mind control and not moving. Difficult but not impossible.
Given my newfound resolve, I was getting through the morning walk with not a single slap. I was proud of myself. I managed to get my juices under control after the hose down. Good. It got harder during the day, doubts rising again. I was thinking, if this is about getting through to the evening without a shock, I can do that. I almost succeeded but my hands slipped just before he came in the evening, I got shocked. I was furious at myself.
The next day, I succeeded. I got through the day with my hands on the back, I turned off my juices at the right times, I stood in the barn unrestrained, I did not get wet, I was silent, I did not get a shock. I had done what he wanted even if I did not know why, I had submitted to his will. I was waiting for the reward. It did not come. Same evening routine, same night routine, same morning routine.
After the morning walk, he put me back in the barn, same preparations as always. I had enough. I could not go through another day of just standing there, frustrations to sex and mind, not knowing what he wanted from me hence no way of succeeding and being able to change my fate. He had hardly positioned me and was walking away, I moved my arms to get to the ear plugs. I managed to get to one of them. The shock was released. He came back. I started to fight him, screaming at him. He restrained me, arms locked behind my back, spreader bar between the ankles, standing on the leash at my collar. I shouted at him, "What do you want?" He gagged me.
I cried. I felt the tugging on my clit, the ache in my vagina. I was no longer ready to suppress my body, got wet and the shocks started. After the sixth, he came and turned the device off. The tugging was still there. I was not ready to hang myself on the collar but close. So, I just stood there, feeling the trickle and the throbbing, one part of my body having taken over my entire existence, the fury in my mind uncontrolled. Within four days, he had managed to make me scared of my body, him and the thought of going crazy.
After a while, I realized that I had managed to loosen one of the ear plugs. I heard the birds, the snorting of a horse, his voice as he talked to the horse. Familiar sounds missed for so long, they gave me a point of focus other than my clit and finally helped me to calm down. When he was walking the horse into the barn, I realized that I was following the sound by turning my head. I froze, hoping that he did not notice. I was desperate to keep this little bit of freedom. He walked away. I was so relieved, I trembled from excitement.
There was not much going on afterwards, he was apparently in the house working. At lunch time, he gave me water then put the gag back. I gave him no indication that I heard him coming and leaving.
It was mid afternoon when I heard a car arriving, somebody walking to the house. About half an hour later, I heard the giggling of a woman. A cold hand was gripping my heart. They came to the barn.
A woman's voice, surprised, "That's her?" It took me all my efforts not to show that I could hear them.
"Yes, speak quietly. I don't her to hear us through her ear plugs."
After a while, "You see she responds to me." I was once again swearing at the betrayal of my body.
"I assume her smell."
"Good that I didn't use perfume." She giggled again. She sounded young.
"Can I go closer?"
"Just don't touch her."
I heard her walking around me. I tried to focus on my breathing, keep it calm, no moving, otherwise he would put me back into sensory deprivation.
"Let's go. I want her to be alone."
As they were walking out, she asked, "Did you make the bookings for the evening?"
I did not hear his answer.
Things were falling into place but I didn't cry. I was too far gone to cry. He had another woman. And I was indeed only the sex toy on the side, somebody he could wire to his liking, please his manhood and peculiar tastes whenever he wanted it, otherwise keep in a horsebox. Maybe she was not into bondage or not robust enough to serve as a playground for his psychological tricks. And I had been an easy and trusting victim. I had wanted more, searched for depth in a partnership. But there was no depth, just an awful reality. My mind went numb and my soul shriveled as my vagina was drying up.
He came later to take me to pee. As he removed the spreader bar, I kicked him hard and at the right place, the ankle cuff for once an effective weapon. He pushed me to the ground, locked my ankles and dragged me straight into the horsebox where he hogtied me. I could as well pee in there. No food, no water, the gag remained.
I was surprised he did not give me a whipping. Half an hour later I knew why. I heard them driving away. Off to their evening fun, I cynically thought.
Dark, black abyss.
He woke me up when he released me from the hogtie. I was hungry and thirsty. I had no sense of time. Then I heard that she was with him.
"Don't you want to take out her gag?" She asked.
"No, she knows that she is not allowed to speak. It will be a lesson to her. Anyway she got away easy." Then, "Come on, it's late. Let's go to bed." They left.
I was strangely calm, probably as calm as you get when you are told that you have terminal cancer and get to the point where there is no more than acceptance. I thought back over the past weeks, the time when we were hanging in the ropes up at the cliff. What did he say? "I want your trust." What a jerk! He had one single goal all along and I was here as a result of it, no more than a sex toy, a turn on in every sense of the word. He was busy wiring both my body and brain, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Why was I so stupid and believed him?
He started the morning with a hose down while still in the stall. No surprise, I had peed, I didn't care. I felt more like an animal than a human being. He disconnected my ankles and got me out, the leash connected to the nose ring. I did not oppose. He removed the hood, ear plugs, clit chain and the shocking belt.
"I’ll remove the gag if you promise to keep quiet. Do you?" His voice was calm and neutral. I agreed, my jaws were sore. He gave me water to drink.
"I will let your arms go. You can loosen them up, but otherwise you keep them to your side. Understood?" I nodded again.
We went for the morning walk. The ear plugs stayed out. After about half an hour, I felt the riding crop touching my belly. I peed and relieved myself. Again I was thinking 'Like an animal'. I had done it many times, but still felt the humiliation. Then he requested "Hands on your back." I obeyed; I was hungry and wanted breakfast. We walked back. In front of the barn, he said, "Stay." For once, he washed me with a sponge, warm water and soap, and then hosed me down. He had removed the leash for the morning walk and now returned it to the nose ring. I did not care.
He said, "Peanut, I want you to meet somebody."
My heart stalled.
The use of my pet name triggered something in me. Something was tugging at the back of my mind. Then, it hit me like a lightening stroke "I want your trust..."
He pulled on the leash. I fought it, struggling to get out of my animal like state. I needed time to think.
I tried to recall the times we went rock climbing, our talks. In my mind I heard him saying, "Because I want your trust, as absolute as my commitment to you will be." Could I trust Alan that this woman was not his lover? Could I trust him that he was still committed to me?
He pulled harder, pain exploding between my eyes. I had a split second to make up my mind.
Against all my senses, my frustration, sadness and humiliation, I followed him, hands to my side.
He led me around the house, onto the deck, and then motioned me to stop. "Kneel." I was scared; I felt like being given the death sentence. Worse, my crotch was wet, my vagina throbbing, my body proving my sexual addiction to him. There was only one thing I was hanging on now, "Because I want your trust..." What if he betrayed it? What if my hope was just one futile last breath of a person who was drowning?
He went into the house. Every fiber in my body told me to pull off the blindfold and run. I stayed. A couple of minutes later, they both came outside.
"Sabrina, this is Melanie."
"Peanut, I would like you to meet Sabrina." I don't know how I managed but I remained calm, sat there as if he had introduced me to a tree.
"Hi Melanie. Nice to meet you." I didn't say anything. He had not given me permission to speak.
Then, I knew what I had to do. I made sure I was facing him. I bent my head. I crossed my wrists and ankles, spread my knees wide and deliberately exposed my locked and wet vagina. Signs of absolute submission.
Well challenge the devil. I heard him saying, "Peanut, I want you to show yourself to Sabrina." I felt his touch on my left breast. He really wanted to make this difficult. I went into position, linked my hands behind my neck, pressed the elbows back, arched my back, spread my legs further. As I trusted my hips forward with the chastity belt locked on and felt the leash hanging down from my nose, I thought that it would be my absolutely greatest humiliation if he had sex with this woman, to show her how he kept me leashed and locked up. I am Alan's fuck toy, pleased to meet you. "Trust!" I said to myself.
After a while, he said, "Cross your hands behind your back." I obliged and went back into my original position.
They ate. He began feeding me with his hands. I kept my composure, trying to recall the many times he had done this when we had been on our own. I had no idea what I was eating but I felt the trickle between my legs becoming stronger, and strange enough I became calmer by the minute.
When we were done, he bent down. To my surprise, he opened the chastity belt and removed it. She must have seen the bolt through my labia rings. I heard her gasping. Then she asked the question which I had asked thousands of times. "Why do you keep her locked up like that?"
"Isn't it obvious, little sis? To prove to her that she is mine and mine alone, the most precious person in the universe to me."
She said, "As you quite obviously are hers and hers alone, big bro. Seems like I have to find my own way to my car."
"You’re right." With that, he lifted me up. 'Safe,' I thought.
He carried me into the house. I giggled, thinking that once again I would not walk on my two legs to the bedroom.
"What is it, Peanut?" I only smiled, feeling the power that was oozing from me.
I was dripping by the time he put me down onto the bed. I automatically lifted my arms above my head and spread my legs. He removed the blindfold. "Welcome back to the real world, Peanut." He gave me a kiss, then went to the bathroom and returned with a wet towel.
"I want you to cool down because I want to be inside you when you come. Can you do that for me?"
"I can try." Almost together we said, "Trying is not good enough..." We laughed.
He put the cold towel on my crotch, undressed, and then carefully removed the bolt. My vagina and clit were pulsating, bright red and sore from anticipation. I was shivering. He straddled me and entered me gently, just stayed inside me, moving only with his heartbeat. Then he said, "Now." The supernova exploded.
He woke me for lunch. I felt dog-tired. But I cherished waking up in a soft bed, having Alan nearby, and being able to hear and see, even though my wrists were tied once again to the headboard. There was a strange power around me, almost physical to touch.
"I hope you’re up for lunch."
"As long it is not cold porridge."
It looked like lasagna with salad and apple juice. He had brought one big plate, gave me several mouthfuls, then took a bite himself. When I felt I had enough, he urged me to take more.
"You need to get your energy levels back; you lost weight."
"Proves my point, don't feed me cold porridge anymore. I can't stand it." He smiled.
While he was finishing the plate, I was thinking about the events of the morning.
"What if I had not trusted you and thrown a fit in front of your baby sister? It was a good possibility. You got me so frustrated, I was almost ready to hang myself then you confronted me with my worst fear."
He contemplated it.
"But you didn't. You decided to trust me and even more so found the trust in yourself. If you hadn't taken the leap, like in rock climbing, we would have climbed from wherever you were able and ready to go. My commitment to you is absolute. I will never retract."
"Then why all the pain and the abandonment?" I whispered it, not sure whether he would answer.
"Because I wanted to take you to rock bottom. If you have been there and found your own way up, you know for sure that you will always prevail. I am sorry, Peanut, I do not like to hurt you, but I will do it again, if need be."
For want of anything to say, I was looking at my nipple rings and the labia which was bolted shut again. He saw it.
"And just to make it clear, I do not want you to touch them, unless I tell you to. Consider them off limits. Understood?" I looked at him. He was serious. I nodded, swallowing again. Couldn't he just give me a break for once?
It seemed he didn't. He got me off the head board.
"Turn around on your belly." He locked my wrist bands, hands pointing towards the opposite elbow, left arm above the right.
"That should keep you out of trouble."
He helped me up and took me to the bathroom where he unceremoniously put me onto the toilet, then into the shower. We were both quiet. As he finished toweling me off, he said, "Looks like you need some time to think."
He took me outside. Behind the house next to the deck there was a lawn and a swimming pool, shadowed by several mature trees. He got me to one of the trees, looped a short rope around its trunk, connected it to my collar, and then went back to the house.
I was alone, not able to get more than two steps away from the tree. I finally sat down, leaning my back and arms against the smooth bark. I saw that that the bark of all the other trees was rough. He had made a deliberate choice, as always.
I had somehow expected that with "getting back to the real world", he would let me back into a normal life, normal in my old terms, of course with some rope tricks scattered in between. With a few precise sentences and actions, however, he had catapulted me into a different reality, his world. And like I was tied to this tree, there was no way I could get away from it.
He had reestablished ownership over my body, but had gone further. For the first time it dawned on me that tying my hands on my back had a deeper meaning. It was not simply about bondage stimulating sexual arousal or assisting him in getting my frustrations high when he stimulated me. He really did not want me to get to my nipples, clit and vagina, ever. They were his and no longer mine.
I was surprised that I did not break out in a screaming fit but discovered quite quickly that my commitment and trust in him had gone far beyond my brain since I made the decision to go permanent. It seemed the past weeks had burnt them into my soul, an irrevocable bond between him and me. So, I strangely felt comfortable about the thought of him having access to my sexuality where I did not. Whether it would keep my hands away was a different question.
Then I remembered the music, his description of me. And all at once there were tears in my eyes. Why? I was pondering. It slowly dawned on me that that he cherished me, my body and sexuality more than I ever thought a man could do, or I could for that matter. I was his and he would never do anything to harm me. I breathed deeply but it took me a long time to get my composure back.
He returned late in the afternoon.
"Are you okay, Peanut?" I looked up at him and smiled.
He said, "Just proves once more, you are an amazing woman."
While he was removing the leash, I said, "Alan, can I ask you a question?" I was looking down, did not want him to see my eyes and that the tears were making them hot again.
"What is it, Peanut?"
"You cut your tubes, didn't you?"
He hunched down in front of me, lifted my chin so I had to look at him. His eyes were dark. He was studying me.
"Yes, I did."
"Do you tell me why?"
"When they examined you, they discovered several polyps both in your vagina and uterus. They removed them and did a curettage. They told me that there was nothing to worry about but that I should take you for a follow up exam in three months' time. You told me that you were not responding well to the pill and I could not stand the thought of doing anything to you that would put your health in danger."
After a pause, "But don't worry, there is plenty of my semen on dry ice. We may have just one problem. If we ever decide to have kids, they will be used to Antarctic conditions."
He said 'we' not 'I'. And he obviously did not want me to feel that my distrust had hurt him.
"I guess tomorrow we need to think about what to do with that brain of yours."
Another 'we'. He helped me to my feet.
"Are you up for an evening walk, provided I let you use the toilet first?"
I giggled. "So I assume the peeing and relieving into the grass go together with the horsebox, cold hose down and porridge?"
"Yes, they fall under ‘time out’, not really punishment though."
"So, what is punishment?"
"When I get the whip."
I decided that the day was too far progressed to spend more time under the tree and think about that.
"Okay, let's go for a walk."
After the toilet break, he introduced me to 'Socrates', his horse. For once he locked my wrist cuffs in front, connected the rope to them and mounted the horse. As we set out, I established that the leash to the nose ring seemed to be part of 'time out', even though the ring was still there teasing my pride as the other rings were teasing my sex.
For the first time I saw his farm, the surroundings. It was large, 300 acres, meadows mixed with forest and some rough terrain.
"I sell the grass for hay to the extent as it is not eaten by wild life. It keeps the landscape open and pays the taxes." He explained.
"You cut it yourself?"
"No, I get a contractor."
After a while I was wondering whether we were going in circles.
"Alan, where are we going?"
"I am looking for three perfect trees."
Finally he stopped and dismounted. He disconnected the leash then led me to three trees, soft grass in between. He put me down on my back, tied my wrists and ankles to the trees. I was looking at him as he finished with my legs, completely absorbed in the task. I just love this guy, I thought.
Redundantly, I asked, "What are you doing?"
He looked at me, twinkles in his eyes.
"I want to check out something."
He crawled over me, then very slowly bent down to my crotch, and while looking at me extended his tongue and touched my clit.
I didn't think one could have two supernovas in a day.