5 comments/ 40786 views/ 8 favorites Bondage Images By: WFEATHER her heart soars as she kneels before the fireplace in the sitting room of the large mansion. The assembled throng is full of friends, Dominants and submissives she has known for nearly a full year, yet she is still uncomfortable being completely nude in the presence of so many people. Having always been much more of a "one-on-one girl," she must fight to control her nervousness, to keep from fidgeting, to prevent herself from rocking from one knee to the other. But when she hears her friend and Master finish His eloquent speech and step toward her, she is able to focus solely upon Him. she does not look up at Him, as she has been taught. Subtly, she spreads her knees just a little further apart and straightens her posture almost imperceptibly, yet as she looks at the hardwood floor between her thighs, she knows that He has noticed. Upon His command, she rises, never moving her wrists from their crossed position at her lower back, as if they have been secured there by an invisible chain. Only upon His next order does she look to His handsome face, gaze deep into His ash-gray eyes. His formal attire makes her momentarily feel scandalous, but her eyes are quickly riveted upon the elegant collar He withdraws from His suit coat. The next few moments pass so quickly that she cannot remember them later; she is only able to relive them by watching the videotape of her collaring ceremony. Her next memory is of standing proudly and facing the assembled friends as she is applauded for completing her "basic training" as a slave. ***** Crying out beautifully, she strains vigorously at her bonds as the relentless pussywhipping continues. Each strike also greatly jostles the vibrator she has been challenged to hold inside her and simply adds to the onslaught of sensations, so that pain and pleasure meld into one. The ultimate explosion is glorious, surging through her bucking body like a tidal wave and nearly drowning her senses. The sweet orgasmic song is prolonged with the sudden withdrawal of the vibrator and the insertion of something much better. her Master stills Himself deep inside until she has calmed herself at last, then He reaches forward to remove her wrist cuffs. T/their lovemaking is gentle initially, and grows rapidly to a primal dance which leaves both Master and slave quite sated and scratched, and melds T/their hearts into one. ***** On-screen, a nude, bound woman screams and struggles violently as the Mistress pummels her well-marked body with a bullwhip. On the sofa, the naked slave lays across her Master's lap, crying out and squirming as He times each strike of the paddle with the Mistress' use of the bullwhip. ***** As the train rolls on through the Kansas night, the collared slave is pressed against the window of the sleeper car, breathing heavily and trying her best to remain quiet as her Master fucks her, slowly but forcefully. As the train occasionally passes by railroad crossings, she feels an extra thrill at seeing vehicles waiting for the train's rapid passing, wondering if the vehicles' occupants are able to make out the fleeting image of a naked woman pressed against a window. ***** The massage moves up to her chest, and lingers there for a long time. Blindfolded, she is unable to look into her Master's eyes. Bound to the bedposts, she is unable to reach out to caress him. The best she can do is arch her back to press more of her breasts into His hands as He manipulates her womanly mounds. ***** Kneeling between his legs, she lovingly worships her Master's cock as He thoughtfully brushes her hair away from her face. her hands and tongue cause contented sighs and soft sounds of pleasure to escape His lips. Tonight, this is essentially a game. she is to keep Him aroused as long as possible, but not so aroused that lust takes over and He takes control - such as fucking her face - just so He can finally fill her belly with His seed. In short, she is to delay His climax as long as possible without frustrating Him. It seemed like a good idea when she had suggested it as a good test of her skills. Now, Ashe wishes that she had thought to move their activity to the bed. Instead, she kneels on the floor, and her knees ache from being on such a hard surface for so long. she considers going into "attack mode," just to bring this to an end relatively quickly so that she can stand and relieve the twin points of discomfort. As she considers her options, He whispers gratitude and encouragement to her, looking down upon her fondly. she pauses long enough to smile up at Him, then returns to her task. ***** He leans back against the headboard, with the slave across His lap. she reaches back, gently stroking and squeezing His throbbing cock, even as He alternates between spanking her and fingering her. Time loses meaning for T/them in the darkened bedroom; all that matters is that N/neither wants the scenario to end. ***** Naked and with only her wrists chained to the bed, she closes her eyes and permits her mind to wander. Almost immediately, a picture forms in her mind. she imagines her Master returning, fully nude, His cock long and hard as it bobs like a symphonic conductor's wand with every step. As the images of His climbing upon the bed and mounting her play out in her mind's eye, she can practically feel His fleshy sword sheath itself within her. her soft sigh is loud in her own ears as she imagines His hands at either side of her head, His face above hers, T/their eyes permanently locked together as He makes love to her, slowly, respectfully, romantically. her legs instinctively wrap around His imagined body, her hips counterthrusting in accordance with the images in her mind, her breathing and heartbeat both slowly quickening in sympathetic response as she pulls at the bonds once more. ***** she watches with happy curiosity as He makes His way around the bed, securing first her cuffed wrists and then her cuffed ankles to the short chains extending from the bedposts. Despite her nudity in His fully-clothed presence, she feels no fear and no apprehension, although perhaps just a touch of nervousness. As He secures her in place, He continually caresses her with hands and eyes; when finished, He shares a lingering kiss with her before applying the blindfold. Time passes, but she cannot measure it. The battery has been taken out of the alarm clock, so she cannot even count the passing seconds from its sound. There is no music from the radio or the CD player. There is no sound from the TV. There is only the occasional rustling of pages as her Master reads a book or magazine. she is thus left alone, allowing her to focus upon the feel of the leather, the limited slack of the chains, the darkness of the blindfold, and the freedom of restriction. ***** her body still feels aflame after the lengthy whipping, the beaded tails of the whip having viciously assaulted her body, even through the thick leather corset. she hangs limply, her wrists attached to either end of the spreader bar suspended from the ceiling, her throat dry and raw from her screams, her tears continuing to fall upon her Master's chest as she sobs uncontrollably from the pain. Reaching behind the sore captive, He unlaces the corset, slowly lessening the tight constriction of her torso. This alone is quite a relief for her, and helps to bring her tears to an end. Once the garment is removed, He reaches up to free her wrists, then helps ease her to the floor as she slumps from exhaustion. He lays with her, holding her close. Perhaps an hour passes as T/they embrace, one seeking and One offering comfort and understanding. Only then are T/they ready to retire to the hottub to truly relax for the rest of the evening. ***** Gasping loudly, the slave struggles against her bonds, her breasts quivering nicely in reaction to the hot wax dripped upon her left nipple. her Master stands beside the bed, thoroughly enjoying the wonderful view, slowly moving the candle across the submissive's body, the contrast of the red wax upon her pale skin absolutely fascinating. He relents momentarily, allowing the willing captive a few moments to calm herself and catch her breath before He tips the candle forward once again, eagerly awaiting the next gasp, the next struggle, the next soft moan. ***** He sits at His desk, working on new erotica - this time, a tale of several catgirls' capture and transport to their new Masters and Mistresses on other planets. However, He has some extra "inspiration" in working on this story... As He sits nude in his chair, she kneels underneath the desk and improves upon her already-wonderful oral talents. ***** Crying out as she strains against the cuffs anchoring her wrists to the headboard, her senses are overwhelmed from the intense orgasm. Yet it only gets better for her as the fingers are replaced by her Master's cock, slowly eased into her as her original climax subsides. With her legs free of restraint, she envelopes her Master, pulling Him deeper into her. Fully buried within her wonderful warm wetness, He simply holds himself still, enjoying the final spasms of her orgasm as His hands caress her. Only once the slave has mostly calmed does He slowly back out of her, then thrusts into her savagely, just once, causing her to cry out again and renewing her thrilling ascent to the peak of orgasm. ***** No clothing, no restraints, no blindfolds. Tonight, her limits are put to an intense test, to determine just how many strikes of the slapper she can endure upon her lower cheeks before she uses her "Red" safeword. The submissive grips the bedding fiercely, grunting loudly between gritted teeth with each strike, fighting to hold back the impending tears and keep her voice unwavering as she counts each strike aloud as ordered. Standing beside the bed, her loving Master at least caresses her briefly between strikes, occasionally fingering her for several seconds before continuing the test. As the next use of the slapper befalls her, she seriously considers using her "Red" safeword, but as soon as she finishes calling the current count, a pair of fingers squirm into her warm wetness once more and forces a very different style of loud grunt from her lips. Perhaps she really can successfully make it to 100 strikes, especially if she is fingered longer to provide her more of a respite from the actual test itself. But much too soon, just as her body begins to counterthrust against the penetration, the fingers are removed and cleaned upon her burning ass. The slapper descends yet again, ripping still another loud grunt from deep within her. Should she make it to 100, she has been promised an excellent reward, but that is not her motivation - she wants to prove to herself that she can indeed endure the 100 strikes. she is so close to the goal, yet she is still so, so far... ***** He fingers the bound submissive as He continues to lick the whip cream from her body. she whimpers and gasps softly, irrefutable signals that she is definitely enjoying this play. His fingers and tongue move slowly, lovingly, reverently. There will be plenty of time later for a hard, brutal, primal fuck. ***** Having had trouble forcing herself to study over the past few days, she has no choice now to alleviate her boredom. A singe lengthy heavy chain confines her to a chair at the table, leaving her arms free so she can turn pages and write notes. The heavy black curtains have all been closed to block out any hint of light from penetrating the cabin; the analog clock has been unplugged, so it perpetually reads 7:44 (PM); the VCR has also been unplugged, so its digital clock is not activated; her watch has been taken away for the evening - she truly has no concept of time. So, she continues to study. On occasion, she will pause and struggle a bit against the tightly-wrapped chain. With her torso confined to the back of the chair, she is unable to reach low enough to reach the combination lock which secures the chain's ends. Unable to free herself, she sighs, takes another sip of the ice water (with the ice long melted), and returns to her studies. ***** she lays in the grass, lengthy chains connecting her wrist and ankle cuffs with the metal stakes in the ground. The swimsuit provides no protection from the cool torrential downpour drenching the mountainside. The blindfold is soaked, making it a little uncomfortable, but it still performs its duty flawlessly, robbing her of sight. Absently, she fidgets as much as she can, primarily to give herself something to do and also to delay the inevitable ache in her muscles from being in one position for a long period of time. She is almost certain that her Master sits on the porch - dry and warm - watching her as He drinks coffee. An unexpected touch to her cheek nearly causes the willing captive to jump out of her skin. With the loud sound of the downpour, she had been completely unable to hear her Master approach. Recognizing the feel of His fingertips, however, she relaxes into His momentary caress. With a loud scream, the slave struggles fiercely against her bonds as a hot liquid is unceremoniously poured between her legs. she had been right - her Master did have coffee. Unfortunately, she had been wrong about him drinking it. ***** Bathed in the moonlight streaming through the nearby open window, she kneels at her Master's feet as He leans back in the armchair. Wearing only navy-blue panties, she watches as He avidly savors each small candy from a large bag of M&M's, her near-total nudity a severe contrast with the puppy eyes and the slight pout as she silently pleads for Him to share. If not for her severe lack of clothing, her "innocent little schoolgirl" expression may just work. Perhaps it works anyhow, as she is finally invited to sit in His lap. His clothes feel slightly rough against her bare skin as she leans into his chest. At his instruction, she closes her eyes and opens her mouth, and is rewarded with the final small candy from the large bag of M&M's. As she savors the chocolate taste, T/they share a long, warm hug. The candy finally ingested, T/they share a longer, warmer, chocolate kiss. ***** It is dark, the windows open to allow in the breeze and the sound of the thunderstorm rolling over the neighborhood. He is fully clothed, sitting on the sofa, eyes closed, enjoying the sound of thunder, when He feels a touch upon His knee. He opens His eyes to find her standing before him, fully nude, highlighted by a flash of lightning. Without a word, she settles onto the sofa, draping herself across His lap. No words are needed; it is clear what she wants, and she can easily imagine the Dominant's smile as she settles upon Him. As she feels His hands gently stroke her lower cheeks, the slave smiles herself, knowing that she will soon be punished for her supposed naughtiness. The first strike is soft, gentle, a "love tap." But the second strike - swift, harsh, stinging - is exactly what she needs. As the third and fourth and fifth blows befall her, the stinging begins to meld into a warm heat and a soft pain. This is exactly what the slave needs. ***** Blindfolded and bound to the bedposts, she cries out softly as the new heavy-leather whip descends upon her chest once again, a stinging yet powerful reminder of her femininity. she pulls against the tethered cuffs as her body squirms of its own volition, the fight-or-flight instinct in full effect. The distinct scent of the newly-purchased leather flogger is nearly intoxicating, its sound unmistakable as it slices the air milliseconds before another attack upon her breasts. Again and again and again and again, the heavy-leather whip befalls her. she grunts loudly with each kiss of the leather, her limbs instinctively pulling wither more force against the restraints. her chest feels hot, as if radiating heat like a sun-baked desert road in mid-summer. Yet her Master continues to escalate the intensity, testing her to find out how much she can take before using a safeword. "Yellow! Yellow!" At her use of a safeword, the intense whipping ceases immediately. she breathes heavily, her chest heaving. Moments later, a cool liquid is dribbled across her breasts, and they are quickly treated to a gentle massage that becomes more and more pleasurable and sensual as the pain of the flogging slowly fades away. ***** she finally lifts her mouth from her Master's erection, then moves into position, straddling Him. Slowly, as T/their eyes lock with love, she sinks herself upon Him, sheathing Him deep within her, B/both savoring the initial penetration. When she is fully impaled, she leans forward and lays upon His chest, whimpering happily into His mouth as T/they kiss. Now, the challenge begins. No thrusting is allowed. The slave can only squeeze the hard invader to try to cause her Master to fill her with His essence. Trying hard to keep within the limits of this challenge, the submissive begins to squeeze Him rhythmically, willing her hips to remain motionless despite her desire to make love to Him in a more "traditional" manner. Instead, she contents herself in contracting her muscles around Him, continuing to kiss Him as His fingernails rake across her skin. N/neither knows if this challenge can actually be fulfilled as designed. However, a significant part of the fun is simply trying. ***** Nude and blindfolded, she enjoys the unusual situation of her Master dressing her - making sure to boldly caress her and occasionally kiss her as He helps her into a bikini. Once she is dressed, He leads her to the basement wall, adding the hanging metal shackles to her ankles and wrists. After He fondles and kisses her for a few minutes, He removes her blindfold and walks away. As she regains her breath, the slave looks down, curious as to why He did not want her to see the bikini before this moment. she is surprised to see targets on each cup of the bikini bra, and the front of the bikini panties. Only when she looks up questioningly does she realize the significance of her outfit. ...as she watches her Master open a new bag of rubber bands and aim in her direction. Bondage Images Ch. 02 Although her wrist and ankle cuffs were still connected by chains to the pillars in the basement, she finally felt that she could truly breathe as her Master removed her new corset. Blindfolded, she could not look down her body, but she was absolutely certain that her skin would bear the markings of the ultra-tight corset for quite a few hours. ...as well as the myriad markings from His own hand, and from the paddle, and from the riding crop, and from the flogger, and from the bullwhip, and from the still-applied clothespins surrounding each nipple. Even as the slave gasped for breath following the latest kisses of the bullwhip, she felt her Master wrap an arm about her waist and gently kiss her cheek. Then she felt the first of many tickling brushes of a feather between her pin-cushion breasts..... ***** "And the capital of Belgium is...?" Having realized that her knowledge of world geography was incredibly poor, He had devised a unique "game" of sorts. Bound face-up upon the large dining room table, her body had been initially tortured with ten clothespins, five encircling each proud nipple. With each correct answer, a clothespin of her choice was removed. With each incorrect answer, her Master added another clothespin to a location of His choice. After numerous incorrect answers, forty-seven clothespins effectively turned her into a porcupine. The pain was plainly visible upon her face, and equally audible in her raspy voice. Tears trickled from her eyes as her chest heaved despite her attempts to remain perfectly still in an effort to lessen the jostling of the forty-seven erect sources of pain. "B-Brussels, Sir!" the helpless slave blurted out between gasps. Through tear-filled eyes, she looked straight up into the chandelier, as if perhaps future answers could be found within its many tiny lights. "Very good, little one," her Master praised her, patting her thigh. "And since it has been quite some time since you last answered correctly, I will take pity on you this time and allow you to choose five clothespins to be removed." "The four from my pussy, Sir!" she said decisively. "And one from my left breast, Sir!" A clothespin from the left breast was removed first, and the slave quivered visibly and somehow choked back a pained cry as blood returned to those few cells of her body. When the four clothespins clamping her labia were removed simultaneously, however, she screamed loudly and fought vigorously against the pain, her limbs flailing viciously against the bonds, which only served to increase the intensity of the sound escaping her upper lips as the forty-two remaining clothespins were jostled violently by her instinctive struggles. The hot tears cascaded down her cheeks like a rapidly-flowing waterfall. With the assistance of her Master's gentle stroking between her legs, the slave eventually began to calm anew. As the pain lessened and became internalized, she could once again focus her attention upon Him, react to His voice, and answer His questions... hopefully correctly, as her tears nonetheless continued to flow unabated. ***** she crawled through the thin film of snow upon the mountainside, her naked body shivering from the cold snow and the chilly air. As her Master sat on the back porch sipping His morning hazelnut coffee, she completed her fourth tour of the cabin, biting her tongue to prevent her punishment from being extended beyond the required ten slow rounds of the cabin. ***** With a loud grunt past her ear, her Master poured His desire deep into her bowels. With His orgasm overtaking Him, His hands tightened painfully around her tender dangling breasts as He practically lay upon her back, His weight upon her making it difficult for her to remain propped up on her hands and knees upon the bed. Yet, orgasm was still denied her, despite the thrill of the warm surges within her rear passage and the actions of the dual vibrating eggs in her forward passage. Groaning loud and long, despite her own sexual need, she tried to ward off her impending climax, her teeth clenched from her crumbling effort to maintain control of her own body as she was used for her Master's pleasure. ***** Slowly, her Master peeled off the last of the wax from her chest. A good waxing had long been one of her favorite activities, so her reward for having survived a full seven days without the need to be punished was being bound to the table with hot candle wax dripping upon her chest as her Master ate her from orgasm to orgasm to orgasm. It was the first time that T/they had used the over-the-table candle rack He had made, allowing Him to focus on other aspects of the scene while she enjoyed the dripping of the wax upon her heaving feminine swells. With the last of the wax finally removed, He bent down to kiss her, and she whimpered in response to her own taste still upon His lips and His tongue. When she heard Him unbuckle His belt while continuing to kiss her, she knew that there was even more pleasure to come. ...and she resigned herself to being much more obedient on a daily basis. ***** With a soft grunt, she tried to keep her feet spread wide as her Master pulled the crotch chain tight before clipping it to the waist chain. The way that the crotch chain split her labia and fondled her clitoris was simultaneously wonderful and frustrating. ...and she had yet to take a single step in any direction. "Now go get dressed," He instructed her. "It's nearly time to go." A quiet whimper escaped her lips as she suddenly considered the long, five-block walk to the nearest Starbucks. Five blocks with the chain pressed snug against her most intimate of places. Five blocks of wonderful frustration. Five blocks of people looking at her with wonder as she clung ever so tightly to her Master's arm as T/they walked slowly. But before those five blocks came the necessary journey to the upstairs bedroom, to the closet containing her few clothes... ***** T/they sat at the table, slowly eating a great Sunday dinner as the sunlight shone brightly through the massive dining room window. As T/they ate, the conversation roamed freely – from the previous night's barbeque with friends, to the upcoming canoe trip, to the next car T/they might purchase, to a recently-received letter from her college roommate. Everything about the scene was fairly normal, and would likely take place in many households on a Sunday afternoon. What made this scene different, however, was that she was completely nude, with dried, cracking splotches of white in her hair and on her face. ...just the way she preferred to enjoy a Sunday dinner. ***** she watched as a video clip downloaded from the Internet plays on the laptop. The woman on the screen was suspended in a horizontal position by many thick, well-tied ropes. Facing the ceiling, more ropes formed a tight breast bondage (tight enough that her breasts were turning purple) and also secured her forearms together behind her back. The several dozen clothespins were very noticeably jostled by the force with which a man truly fucked her. The result of the stimuli is that the woman on the screen cried out loudly, continually. ...and as she watched, the slave considered whether she should mention this scene – one of her long-held fantasies – to her Master. ***** Using the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she admired herself, admired the brightly-reddened parts of her anatomy. In particular, her Master had paid significant attention to her chest; between the whips, the hot wax, the thin pinching chains, the clamps, the ice cubes, and His own fingernails, her highly-sensitive breasts and nipples had been tormented quite nicely. Despite the soreness, she smiled, having quite enjoyed the evening – as evidenced by her pleasure trickling down her thighs. ***** Collapsed upon the hotel bed, she gasped rapidly for breath, fully aware of the thick layer of sweat covering her body and the seemingly-neverending stream of her Master's spilling from her body. Blindfolded, she had no clue what was about to take place until she heard the click of the shutter, nearly deafening to her startled ears. Suddenly, the redness in her face deepened as her heart shifted instantaneously from feeling thoroughly fucked to feeling thoroughly mortified. she shrieked with embarrassment and moved her hands to try to cover her most private areas, but in the back of her mind, she knew it was already much too late – with the click of the shutter, the dead had been done. ***** The slave had received explicit permission to climax whenever she needed on this particular evening, yet her longtime training had so engrained into her mind the concept that an orgasm must only come after receiving permission for each one that she was instinctively attempting to hold back the dam of pleasure which was about to overflow and burst through her body. Impaled in both her passages, the Sybian caused such thunderous shockwaves to course through her being that her mind could not discern which movements were due to the Sybian and which were due to her reactions to the Sybian. she knew only that each movement jostled the weighted nipple clamps, adding delicious pain to the delectable pleasure filling each cell of her being. Only later would she learn that she had screamed so loudly that it had hurt her Master's ears as He clutched her tightly from behind. All she would remember would be the overwhelming relief as the orgasm battered her, the feeling of floating upon a cloud yet tumbling without a parachute toward a sun-dried desert floor, and her Master's refusal to release her so that she was essentially forced to remain on the Sybian through a stream of orgasms so powerful that she truly feared she would pass out. ***** Walking arm-in-arm along the wharf, Master and slave are simply part of the sunset crowd on this cloudless Saturday evening. Having toured Alcatraz earlier in the day, T/their discussion focuses on what it must have been like to live there, to be imprisoned in the island fortress and yet be able to see freedom just one long, cold swim away. The tour of the famous prison had indeed been educational, and quite eye-opening as well. However, she could tell that it had sparked some ideas in her Master's mind. One of the things she liked most about Him was His ability to often surprise her with His originality. Nonetheless, the fact that the tour of Alcatraz had apparently inspired a new idea in His head was indeed cause for pause. As T/they stood at an intersection, waiting for the traffic light to change to green, she looked up at His face. He had suddenly become unusually quiet, His expression one of deep thought. she could practically see the gears churning in His head as an idea suddenly evolved from concept to prototype in His mind. Even though she had no idea of the thoughts flashing through His mind at that very moment, she found her legs becoming weak as she tried to guess what devilish fate awaited her once His new prototype was ready for use. Bondage Images Ch. 03 The park's long picnic table is covered with a thick blanket, to protect her naked skin from any splinters. Strong, thick rope connects each wrist and ankle cuff to the sturdy legs of the picnic table, with several additional ropes ensuring her torso does not have much freedom of movement; another rope even runs through the D-ring at the front of her wide collar, ensuring she is not able to lift her head. Blindfolded, she is oblivious to the eyes of the night creatures in the nearby grove of trees, but she is definitely quite aware of the chill in the near-spring air. The willing submissive shivers as she tests her bonds. Even blindfolded, she feels her Master's eyes upon her, even as He prepares for the core of the night's activity. Yet she is confused, as she does not hear Him moving about in the pavilion or retrieving items from His "bag of tricks." Surprised, she jumps - as much as the ropes will allow - as she feels her Master's unexpected caress between her breasts. But as soon as she has calmed again, He begins an all-out assault upon her with His fingers, tickling her mercilessly. her voice rings out, echoing off the roof of the pavilion, certainly carrying quite some distance in the crisp night air. her heartbeat is nearly thunderous in her ears as tears quickly cascade down her cheeks. her body's attempt to escape the rapidly-moving fingers is perfectly thwarted by her bondage, which holds secure, barely loosening at all. After the tumultuous events of the past few weeks, this is probably what she needs most. ***** Locked in a small cage like a wild tigress on display in a zoo, she can do absolutely nothing to protect her exposed body from the hot wax essentially raining upon her. Perhaps six dozen candles perched upon narrow rods above the cage produce enough hot drippings to ensure that no more than two seconds pass before another hot drop befalls her. The candles also produce the only light in this spacious chamber, and she is certain that somewhere in the shadows, her Master lurks, watching her, savoring the echoes of her gasps and moans from each hot drop affixing itself to her naked skin. Yet while the falling wax is indeed hot, she finds something quite appealing about the situation, and that "something quite appealing" carries in her voice. Although she may at times grab the bars of the cage and shake vigorously in an attempt to flee the waxy rain, she wonders, deep inside, if she truly wants the molten rain to cease. In time, her Master finally steps into the light of the candles, His shoes clicking upon the hardwood floor. As she squirms in the hot rain, she winces and groans as another drop of liquid wax falls upon her lower spine, her eyes pleading to be released from the cage. But He simply squats before her, reaching through the bars to gently lift her chin and gaze into her pleading eyes for perhaps a full minute as many more hot drops befall her. It is clear that He truly does care for her, and that despite the intense heat dripping upon her, she truly does enjoy both the waxing and the creativity. ***** Kneeling on the cold stone floor, a spreader bar connecting her ankle cuffs, weighted clamps torturing her nipples and her labia, her wrists secured wide apart by the shackles connecting her with the stone wall behind her, she takes in huge gulps of air, her Master's lengthy erection no longer lodged in her throat. A massive red-painted smile adorns her face as tears of triumph trickle from underneath the blindfold, for, at long last, after many weeks of practice, she has successfully deepthroated Him without gagging. As He kneels and hugs her and whispers His congratulations into her ear, she becomes giddy with laughter... and impatient to hold Him within her throat once more. ***** she is slowly led along the familiar path. Blindfolded, however, she cannot see around her. Blindfolded, she feels more exposed than usual, even though she often wears no clothing. Blindfolded, His grip upon her shoulder feels tighter than usual – tighter, but not angry, only intense. In time, she is stilled. In addition to her sandals and her blindfold and her collar, wrist cuffs are soon applied to her. Then she is backed against a tree, its rough bark scratching gently at her naked skin. A gentle breeze brushes strands of hair across her bare shoulders. she hears her Master retrieving items from His "bag of tricks" and soon feels an arm lifted in front of her, something – likely a rope – tied to her wrist cuff. The arm is lifted skyward, and a moment later she feels rope smack her in the face and chest, bringing a smile to her lips as she realizes how she is to be restrained. Several times, her Master throws the rope skyward, and each time less and less of it smacks against her; clearly, He is wrapping the rope around a sturdy overhead branch until, at last, He lifts her other arm and ties the rope to the wrist cuff. After taking a moment to bend down and briefly suckle her right nipple, her Master retrieves another rope from his "bag of tricks" and begins to secure her torso to the trunk of the tree. The wrapping is snug, and she certainly will not be going anywhere anytime soon. Yet, after several years under His tutelage, she feels no concern, no fear; she practically melts into the tree and into the rope, feeling quite at ease in the familiar outdoor bondage scenario. How many times had He bound her outdoors like this, sometimes to make love to her, sometimes to punish her, sometimes to simply leave her alone with her own thoughts? The second rope tied securely on the opposite side of the tree, she tries to lean forward into her Master's touch as He stands before her, His hands exploring the many curves of her body for several long minutes as He kisses her deeply, His tongue slithering around hers inside her mouth. But then, she is left alone. her Master withdraws from her, and she can hear Him pick up His "bag of tricks" and walk away. This is not unusual, but after the way He had kissed her and touched her, it is a bit frustrating... After more than a few minutes of simmering in her own frustration, the slave hears it: the telltale sound of a train whistle in the distance. Fear suddenly consumes her: she has long known about the train tracks bordering the end of her Master's expansive wooded property, but just how close to the tracks has He bound her? Will she be several trees deep into the woods and thus essentially unseen, or will she be in the clear, unfettered view of the train engineers and any passengers? The rumbling of the train sends tiny tremors through the ground, signaling that the train is indeed approaching and not simply passing by the area on another rail line. Whereas she had previously tugged at her bonds to try to lessen the frustration of her Master's departure, she soon truly struggles as her fear tries to overwhelm her, her mind wrestling with whether she should use her safeword. ***** Blindfolded and fully clothed, she is secured to the bedposts, the chains connecting her ankle and wrist cuffs to the bolts underneath the bed providing her with very little slack. The headphones ensure that all she hears is a plethora of women loudly proclaiming their excitement to the world, moaning and crying and screaming with desire, and the sounds ultimately take their toll upon her, causing her to writhe seductively upon the bed and inherently pull at her bonds. In time, she feels her Master sit on the bed, His hand gently running up and down her body, and she can sense His smile as her body instinctively arches up into His hand, into His gentle yet possessive touch. But all too soon, His hand is gone, only to be replaced by EMT scissors, slowly cutting away her clothes, until she is fully exposed to His gaze. Then the waxing begins, alternating with ice and whipping. The contrast between hot and cold is tremendous for her, making the whipping even more intense. Her voice joins those being blasted into her ears as she instinctively struggles against the bonds. ***** Wrists and ankles secured to the bedposts with just a little slack, her Master straddles her naked body, carefully affixing the blindfold to her face, plunging her into darkness. For a few moments, He toys with her hair and caresses her face and neck and chest, then finally dismounts from both the slave and the bed. Shortly, headphones are applied to her ears. Soon, the sound of a woman being fucked roughly reaches her ears. For an unknown amount of time, similar sounds are played for her, forced upon her ears, one sound file after another without end. It begins to take its toll upon her, her sex moistening and her nipples hardening, her body beginning to writhe within the bonds. And on occasion throughout the ordeal, her Master returns to her to briefly caress her, or gently strum her clitoris, or suckle a nipple, or straddle her once more and slip His solid erection into her mouth, or even taunt her body with one of His whips.....