Monday, March 9, 2015

rehabilitating the girl (back to basics) - a sensory assault begins

This is not fiction....I just can't talk in terms of the first person when I write about these activities, I prefer to distance myself from the wanton slut inside me....

Last Friday....

He placed the red leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She felt an immediate calm when the leather tightened around her as He pulled at the buckles.

The black rope fell from the silver chains running across the ceiling. He directed her to stand under it and He pulled her wrists together fastening them high above her head so she was stretched from her leather heels to her fingertips. Later He would remove these shoes which would leave her stretched to tip toes.

He moved to the bench. Her breath grew quicker and deeper with the anticipation of what was to come. She could not imagine what was to unfold in its entirety. Had she understood this, she might well have started yelling her safe word before the shiny black ball gag went into her mouth. From the bench she heard the sound of metal and chains. The spreader bar was fastened to each cuff on her ankle. He drew rope between the chains either side that were stretch taught between the floor and ceiling. This was different. She was unable to move, to twist, to twirl. She was, in fact, immobile. She felt her breath catch, her pussy warmed and she grew wet waiting for Him to finish His work, His art, His perfection.

"Open" He said from behind her as He pulled the ball gag down in front of her.

She took the ball into her mouth and as he brushed away her long blond waves He fastened tightly the leather with its buckle at the back of her neck. Her head immediately bowed. She could not look Him in the eye as He moved around her. Things inside her began to swim. Her body reacting to her predicament. Her pussy tingled. Her breasts and nipples hardened, so exposed to Him was she in this moment. Even now as the girl writes this, she craves that same capture. She craves the vulnerability of being in His control, unable to move, unable to communicate other than through a desperate and guttural scream from behind the gag. Her pussy is warm and slick, her breath shallow and her head swims.

His hands glided over her breasts, buttocks, torso, as her cruised past her and around His creation. He was not finished. His girl needed decoration. She knew what this meant, this is the one thing she did know. The clamps! He walked toward her, the clover clamps with silver chains suspended from them. Her nipples were to be tortured with the decoration. She steadied herself and waited as He grabbed her heated engorged pussy lips. Her eyes widened, one, two were clamped. The pain was intense. Had he made them tighter she wondered screaming inside. She understood to her detriment that as the pain and sharpness dulled and eventually disappeared altogether, the greatest pain would come when he removed them one by one. He moved between the bench and His girl. He weighted the clamps intensifying the pain. Back to the bench and to the girl, this time clover clamps were destined for their rightful place. Her nipples were clamped and as the clamps bit viciously into her soft flesh the girl began to swim in a haze of near desperation.

The girl's final humiliation was the preparation of her arse. He would use that little piece of naughty heaven later no doubt. She felt the cold metal against her tight little hole. He worked her first with his finger, she squealed through the gag and writhed. The metal butt plug pushed its way into her, fucking her dirty little slut hole. Tears welled in her and despite herself she craved this treatment, she needed it. The more she squealed the harder He pushed, the more determine He was to violate her in this way.

His hand came down heavy on her buttocks.
He landed blow after blow. Wave after wave of wobbling flesh His reward. She winced and cried out as He stung her already sore bottom. 

The clamps pulled and tore at her lips and nipples as He connected with her soft, vulnerable flesh. She was in no position to run, to turn away, to cover her bottom. The sting  grew almost unbearable and she pulled forward away from His hand. She knew that this was only the beginning, by the time He was finished she would would have endured what she could not remember having endured before.

He swam around her in silence, taking the soft leather flogger from its resting place He stood quietly inspecting her breasts, her thighs and her predicament. Drool began to pool in her mouth, the final indignity she thought. The flogger hung threateningly from His red right hand. She steadied herself for the first blow.

Ken Marcus 2001


  1. Wow!! Very intense...and quite HOT! I get having to write it in 3rd person. There have been a couple times I've done the same. Just helped me process it a little better to step back from it personally.


    1. I think that's what it is, stepping away from it. I am glad you enjoyed it lg. The next installment is due tomorrow.
      Pop on back and find out the rest.

  2. Oh my that was smoking. Hummmmmm, lucky girl.

    1. Actually this is a highlight and I think one of the turning points in our relationship. It served to bring us much closer I think.

  3. Intriguing! My computer has taken a break, which means, so will I. :)
    I hope I will be back soon...

    1. Oh dear 1MV, I do hope you will be back in time for part two..there was just too much to put in one post.


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