I Still Have Fingers, Arms and a Head

Good thing last night wasn’t decapitation or limb-chopping night.

Last night, was, well, it was wow. Wow is a good word for it. And minus the first ‘w’, it still applies.

 

Like I wrote yesterday, it started with the butt plug. Eventually He skipped it and we went about our merry ways getting the kids to bed. After they were asleep He made me a drink, which had twice the usual amount of alcohol in it. I commented that I felt like I could breathe fire after taking a drink and He just snickered. He was so upbeat and excited, like a kid right before Christmas morning. He kept swatting my ass and pinching my tits, and it was making me jumpy and skittish.

I had to strip naked, bring my collar to Him and put on my buckle heels, and that is when I started to worry. He tied me to one of the floor jacks in the basement, spreader bar/shackle combo on my legs, spreader bar and velcro cuffs on the wrists, pulled out and above me. I struggled to hold that position in 3.5″ heels while He swarmed me, tugging on my nipples, pinching my ass, nibbling my neck, murmuring that I was right not to trust Him, chuckling as I tottered on my heels…then, the sound of the camera zooming in. I hid my face as He snapped away, laughing at me.

He took the heels off my poor feet and switched to a different style of spreader bars for my ankles, ones without manacles. He “warmed me up” with some light swats and a few bites, then started in with the thin rubber flogger. I jumped and hissed and tried to sink into the pain. Then He grabbed the leather flogger and laid in. Lightly at first, nice punchy hits that I grunted and absorbed. Once He had me lulled He started flicking it, using wrap-around on the hips and chest, intentionally wrapping it around my cunt and nailing me on the really soft flesh of my lower belly. I hissed and growled and screamed when he really bit in with the strands. He’d mock me when I yelped, asking if it hurt, assuring me that He wasn’t swinging real hard. Which is a useless fucking assurance when He’s utilizing wraparound. Really. I am not that damn dumb. The first time He snapped my stomach with it I screamed, and He came into my vision and asked so solicitously “Aw, did that hurt? I didn’t hit that hard.” to which I angrily replied “Yeah, it is called wrap-around, Asshole! Ever heard of it?!” He looked at me with the most straightest of faces and said coolly “Yes, yes I have.” before doing it again. And again, and again…

The hitting of me with various stingy instruments was randomly interrupted by moments where He would press me into the beam while finger-fucking my ass or my cunt, biting my neck and mocking me more. I struggled so hard to fight back the orgasm, to deny the pleasure, even as my cunt squelched and I could smell the musky aroma of my own betrayal. He fucked me with the handle of the rubber flogger, then whipped me with it. I cursed Him, His mother, the day He was born..

He let me down after a while and reached for the ring on my collar to drag me into the bedroom. Not knowing why His hand was reaching for me, I flinched back. He grinned before grabbing the ring, and that’s when I started to really feel the tingle in my belly that means the fear-monster is rising. He was letting the inner Asshole come out to play, and that meant it would be a long hard night.

In the bedroom He tells me to drink more of the lemonade mixer He made me. I had to lay my head over the edge of the bed after that (me protesting the whole time that if I puked it would “be on Him”, get it, aren’t I a laugh?) for some facefucking, pictures required. He attacked my clit as I struggled to swallow Him, and I was so confused my the mixed signals of “No Air!” and “Want to Cum!” going on in my brain. I was so damned turned on by this point that any more than 2 minutes of His attention to my clit made me ready to explode, which was always when He would remove said attention. After He’d had enough of the facefucking He got out the rope again and tied me up tight in a tit harness. He sat at the edge of the bed and diddled me as I sat astride His lap, and everytime I went to moan He smothered me with His huge rough hand. Smothering is one thing when you get to take a breath before hand. When it hits you on the exhale, it takes a lot less time till panic sets in. At some point it became too hard for Him to control me while He was sitting, so He shoved me into the wall and kissed me violently, raping my mouth with His tongue as His hands roamed across my body pinching, pulling, scratching, mauling. He hungrily sucked away my screams and pleas. Then He threw me across the bed, and I didn’t have the will to do anything but lay where I landed. I was gasping, trying to catch my breath. First He pulled out the locking bit gag, strapped that on tight. Then it was the blindfold. I balked at that, I know it is cheating, but I like to know what is coming at me, dammit. He commanded me to all fours, and I slowly complied, warily.

I know it is clichéd, but after the first few light hits with the mahogany bastard, I trembled with fear and pain. I hate that fucking paddle. Hate HATE HATE it. It bites, it stings, it quickly reduces me to a shaking sobbing pile of bitch. I stayed on all fours for the beginning, but as the hits started getting nastier I was doing everything I could to minimize the blows. It seemed like everything I tried just made a nice target of something else, and I began to throw myself forward or on my side. He crawled on top of me, pinning me to the bed, and continued to whale on my ass, my thighs, my back. I screamed. I gagged. I cried, I begged…I bucked and heaved and clawed…and then I broke. I sniffled into the sheets and laid limp, unable to fight anymore.

He laughingly asked me if a good fuck sounded good right about then, and I wholly agreed…only the tone of His voice had me worried that my definition of a good fuck wasn’t going to be the same as His. I was right…it wasn’t. He had me get hooked up to the fucking machine and suck on Him as I was fucked by the insistent yet impersonal toolbox buddy. As I gobbled N’s cock He fingered my ass again, teasing me with accusations of being an anal slut, shaming me about my love/hate relationship I have with ass love. After a bit of this the machine dong fell out, so while I went upstairs to clean up a little He made a few changes. When I got back, He gave me two choices: more of the DP with the fucking machine, or N in my ass. Knowing that N was going to end up in my ass at some point or another, I chose to get it over with early. Stupid me.

He had me climb on Him, which is my absolute least favorite position for anal, mainly because He can see my face and can further deride and humiliate me about liking anal. And oh, did He. The stream of mocking, sharp comments was constantly on me, and all I could do was whisper “Shut up, I hate You” over and over as my cunt dripped and my nipples tingled. After a bit of this He pushed me off and told me to get back on all fours and fuck myself with the another dong from the fucking machine. I did so, face flushed with shame and embarrassment, and then He mounted and shoved His cock into my ass. I groaned and moaned and whimpered, tears edging out of my eyes as the pressure built. I struggled to catch my breath against the pain even as the orgasm built inside of me.  I inched forward on the bed, trying to lessen the blows to my abused orifices from His thrusts, and the dong fell out. Now it was just N, slamming into my sore ass, and I was flattened to the bed, His weight pinning me in place as He buried Himself in my ass over and over again. I cried out from the pain as He made His final thrust, filling my ass with His come. Hoping that He was satiated, I asked for a towel to clean up with, and He tossed me a towel to sit on, then suggested that He beat some more sense into me. I begged and wheedled, assuring Him that I was well-informed of my place in the world, tyvm. So instead, I was due for some more fucking, and finally allowed that damned orgasm that had been mocking me all night. When it finally hit, I’m pretty sure my heart stopped and I took ten minutes off of my life.

Aftercare consisted of me helping Him put away the instruments of doom toys and cleaning up myself. I drank a little juice and nibbled on a piece of cheese while He showered, then headed back to the bedroom and collapsed into a pile of well-used girl.

Today He has delighted in all the marks He left on me, and has used every chance available to grope slap and pinch my bruised ass. I have rope burn from the tit harness He wrapped me in, bruises all over my ass, sore spots on my thighs from where He pinned me to the bed, a split lip, and an invisible bruise on my forehead where I kept hitting my head on the floor jack pole as He was flogging me. He thinks it is hilarious and is still on me, poking and prodding to get me to whimper. I’m learning to press my ass against flat surfaces whenever He’s near me.

 

One thought on “I Still Have Fingers, Arms and a Head

  1. Yes that was a good time, good in deed!!! Also the added fun of slaping your brused ass today and watching you jump, has added to the fun of it all!

    Will have to start thinking about your next WOW! (evil snicker)

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