Clang, clang, clang went the trolley. Ding, ding, ding went the bell...
He described to me what it was like for him, how it felt, what he saw. I carefully sifted through my own images, sounds and feelings to add to his symphony of images. Together, we created a lush call back song of perverse delight.
Through Mykal's eyes:
There were 67 of them. That's how many clothepins were attached to my cock and balls. There's something special about the pain that comes from clothespins, something unique, pain unlike any other.She had me tied to a bench, rope wrapped around my body holding me tightly in place. My arms were pinned behind me and under the bench. A spreader bar kept my knees apart. She rhythmically whipped my cock, gently, using a flogger with soft, wide leather straps. Though she swung lightly, with all those clothespins each stroke sent excruciating jolts of biting agony from my crotch directly to my brain. I had forgotten where I was, even *who* I was.
She had reduced me to one gigantic nerve ending.All the while she whipped me, she slowly but firmly fucked my face. My head hung backwards off the end of the bench. The strapon she wore was at least a foot long, and thick enough to force my mouth open as wide as it could go. Her hips moved back and forth, thrusting the dildo all the way in until my lips brushed the leather of the harness she wore. Again and again she withdrew the cock nearly all the way, with just the head teasing my lips, then slid it into my eager mouth. Sometimes she would drive it in to the hilt and hold it there, and I would struggle to breathe while trying to suck it even further down my throat.
My mind reeled. If I could have formed the words in my head they would have been "Take me! Beat me! Fuck me! DO IT TO ME! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" I was a slut, a thing, a toy, an object. It was pure heaven.The flogger snicked down on my cock again as she shoved the dildo down my throat once more...
Through my eyes:
He was a work of beautiful, human art. I watched as the clothespins bobbed with each hard breath like waves of grain in an open countryside. His eyes were glistening with moistness as he tried to cool the fires building within himself while his chest pushed forward at me in submissive offering. He wrestled with the ropes that pinned his arms firmly in place behind him and adjusted his body to accommodate the demands of his continued posture.
I took a soft breath and smiled as I looked down at him, helpless to my whims and concentrating on something deep inside his mind with the devotion of an exceptional submissive. The spreader bar between his knees winked light back at me, as if we were both co-conspirators in a private game of torture and humiliation with my new toy. Lifting my flogger, I aimed at the source of his male pride with the slow, methodical accuracy of a sadistic dentist.
The clothespins clacked gently in response to each slow stroke against his balls and ass. Each time, he caught his breath sharply through clenched teeth not daring to utter a word of refusal or resistance to me. His display of agonized self control sent heated waves of pleasure through me. Moving around him, I positioned myself above his head. I dropped his head back off the bench and forced his mouth open with my dildo. I wanted to fuck him. I needed to fuck him. And nothing else would satisfy me more than the sound of his choking and wet gagging as he tried to appease the animalistic lust of my appetites by taking as much of me as his whorish throat would allow.
“Take it!”, I demanded. My voice husky and hoarse as if the demon inside me had possessed me. I could feel him resisting violently and I pulled the dildo out of his mouth slightly. He coughed and sputtered and when he took his next deep inhale, I plunged down his wet cavity again. Muffled groans of pleasure and hunger escaped from him while I plunged in and out of his mouth more and more aggressively. I lifted the flogger and began flogging his cock and balls again, listening to the rhythmic slapping of the leather against his skin followed by a cascade of clacking from the clothespins.
His body twisted and jerked with each stroke. His head bobbed up and down trying to control the frenzied probing of his throat with my dildo. His cock was beginning to cry for mercy with long tears of pre-cum escaping from its blind eye.
I pushed into his throat deeply in one final stroke and held him firmly in place. He held his breath and his position as he waited for me to offer some suggestion or hint of what was to come next, what he should do next, how he should offer himself next.
A muffled gag tried to rise from his throat but the dildo blocked its escape. Standing over him like this, I was satisfied that his training had created such a disciplined beast that it was now time to take him to the next level. I pulled the dildo back out of his throat slowly and watched the long, glistening streamer of saliva cling like an impassioned lover to my unfeeling, retreating dildo.
I stepped back and gave him a moment to collect himself. I knew exactly what I wanted to do next and he would need all of his wits about him to play my new game.
~Empress Shibari
All copyrights reserved. This piece may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express permission of the author.
Through Mykal's eyes:
There were 67 of them. That's how many clothepins were attached to my cock and balls. There's something special about the pain that comes from clothespins, something unique, pain unlike any other.She had me tied to a bench, rope wrapped around my body holding me tightly in place. My arms were pinned behind me and under the bench. A spreader bar kept my knees apart. She rhythmically whipped my cock, gently, using a flogger with soft, wide leather straps. Though she swung lightly, with all those clothespins each stroke sent excruciating jolts of biting agony from my crotch directly to my brain. I had forgotten where I was, even *who* I was.
She had reduced me to one gigantic nerve ending.All the while she whipped me, she slowly but firmly fucked my face. My head hung backwards off the end of the bench. The strapon she wore was at least a foot long, and thick enough to force my mouth open as wide as it could go. Her hips moved back and forth, thrusting the dildo all the way in until my lips brushed the leather of the harness she wore. Again and again she withdrew the cock nearly all the way, with just the head teasing my lips, then slid it into my eager mouth. Sometimes she would drive it in to the hilt and hold it there, and I would struggle to breathe while trying to suck it even further down my throat.
My mind reeled. If I could have formed the words in my head they would have been "Take me! Beat me! Fuck me! DO IT TO ME! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" I was a slut, a thing, a toy, an object. It was pure heaven.The flogger snicked down on my cock again as she shoved the dildo down my throat once more...
Through my eyes:
He was a work of beautiful, human art. I watched as the clothespins bobbed with each hard breath like waves of grain in an open countryside. His eyes were glistening with moistness as he tried to cool the fires building within himself while his chest pushed forward at me in submissive offering. He wrestled with the ropes that pinned his arms firmly in place behind him and adjusted his body to accommodate the demands of his continued posture.
I took a soft breath and smiled as I looked down at him, helpless to my whims and concentrating on something deep inside his mind with the devotion of an exceptional submissive. The spreader bar between his knees winked light back at me, as if we were both co-conspirators in a private game of torture and humiliation with my new toy. Lifting my flogger, I aimed at the source of his male pride with the slow, methodical accuracy of a sadistic dentist.
The clothespins clacked gently in response to each slow stroke against his balls and ass. Each time, he caught his breath sharply through clenched teeth not daring to utter a word of refusal or resistance to me. His display of agonized self control sent heated waves of pleasure through me. Moving around him, I positioned myself above his head. I dropped his head back off the bench and forced his mouth open with my dildo. I wanted to fuck him. I needed to fuck him. And nothing else would satisfy me more than the sound of his choking and wet gagging as he tried to appease the animalistic lust of my appetites by taking as much of me as his whorish throat would allow.
“Take it!”, I demanded. My voice husky and hoarse as if the demon inside me had possessed me. I could feel him resisting violently and I pulled the dildo out of his mouth slightly. He coughed and sputtered and when he took his next deep inhale, I plunged down his wet cavity again. Muffled groans of pleasure and hunger escaped from him while I plunged in and out of his mouth more and more aggressively. I lifted the flogger and began flogging his cock and balls again, listening to the rhythmic slapping of the leather against his skin followed by a cascade of clacking from the clothespins.
His body twisted and jerked with each stroke. His head bobbed up and down trying to control the frenzied probing of his throat with my dildo. His cock was beginning to cry for mercy with long tears of pre-cum escaping from its blind eye.
I pushed into his throat deeply in one final stroke and held him firmly in place. He held his breath and his position as he waited for me to offer some suggestion or hint of what was to come next, what he should do next, how he should offer himself next.
A muffled gag tried to rise from his throat but the dildo blocked its escape. Standing over him like this, I was satisfied that his training had created such a disciplined beast that it was now time to take him to the next level. I pulled the dildo back out of his throat slowly and watched the long, glistening streamer of saliva cling like an impassioned lover to my unfeeling, retreating dildo.
I stepped back and gave him a moment to collect himself. I knew exactly what I wanted to do next and he would need all of his wits about him to play my new game.
~Empress Shibari
All copyrights reserved. This piece may not be reprinted or reproduced without the express permission of the author.
posted by Samois at 12:00 PM
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