1 comments/ 45227 views/ 2 favorites Caveat Emptor By: Cicero6 My life-altering ordeal began on a spring day last year when I responded to an ad for the selling of a 1960 Porsche. I didn’t have nearly the $14,000 the owner was asking so my curiosity was really a complete waste of time. I promptly arrived at the owner’s hillside home and he greeted me with earnestness. He was in his late forties or early fifties - I couldn’t really tell with his silver goatee and baseball cap. His first question was if I’d ever owned a Porsche. I responded in the affirmative which was not the truth. I didn’t want him to misrepresent the car regardless of my intentions. This turned out to be a mistake since he was an aficionado and grilled me extensively about my imaginative 356. His barrage of questions stopped when he got into the car and fired it up for me. He sat shotgun and patted the driver seat as I reluctantly took the helm of his re-conditioned coupe. I felt strange trundling down the alley knowing full-well I could not afford this machine and had no intention of buying it. The car whined down Queen Anne Avenue and we toured around Seattle for 15 minutes or so before heading back. “You’re not going to buy this, are you?” the man asked out of the blue. I hesitated at first. “It’s well-worth your asking price, sir, but I simply don’t have nearly the amount you’re asking,” I confessed. “You knew that before you even called.” “I’m sorry about that, sir,” I said. Then he paused and stared at me while I watched the road. “That’s okay, I like people with similar interests and it’s a nice day for a drive.” I nodded uncomfortably and slowed to turn up his alley. Just then he reached over and grabbed hold of my crotch hard. I was in shock and as I stared down at his hand, I sideswiped a fire hydrant. The man cranked his head out the window to assess the damage and told me to keep driving. We pulled into his carport and got out. The hydrant’s bolt had gouged a tear the entire length of the body. He rubbed his beard and breathed heavily through his nostrils. I could sense he was extremely upset as I assured him I was covered and the car would be repaired. “You’re going to pay for this, young man.” He said. “I know, I know…I apologize and will make this okay,” I said. “I mean you should be punished!” he quipped. “What? Hey…you grabbed my cock back there! This wasn’t entirely my fault!” I argued. “I’ll give you a check for $2000 and that’s it.” “I don’t want or need your money you little fuck. You’ve not only wasted my time but my energy, too, and now I am going to punish you.” “Punish? I’m a grown adult! What exactly do you mean by punish?” I asked. The man pointed towards his house and said, “Go down to the basement, strip off your clothes and kneel on the floor until I arrive.” I was agape as a wave of heat crossed my face. I couldn’t believe he was giving these orders with a straight face. “No way, man. No fucking way am I going down there!” I protested. “You will do as I say and you shall address me as ‘Master’, OR you can go down the hallway and exit out the basement door on your right. In that case you can keep going and never come back here. Got it?” The niceties were over as he stared me down. I looked to the ground and over at his house. I took a few steps away from him then glanced back to see him rubbing the car’s scrape. I walked down the outside steps and into the basement. He wanted me to call him ‘Master’? Was he implying that I was his slave? I was completely flush as a strange sense of excitement and curiosity swept over me. I approached the exit door and turned the knob. It opened and I could see my car still parked at the curb. I must have stood there for at least a minute before deciding to close the door and prepare for my punishment. I knew that if I drove away now I’d always wonder about this moment. I turned around and slowly undid my belt in the dank of his darkened basement. I couldn’t believe myself as I unbuttoned my slacks and shirt. “What was I in for?” I thought. Was this a brief spanking session or a long-term confinement? Isn’t that a gay thing? No one even knew I was there. The cool air added a chill to my perspiration and I shivered. I stood next to a punching that was hanging from the ceiling and held onto it while I pulled my socks off. I tucked them into my shoes that sat next to my neatly folded clothes. I was almost naked and had my thumbs in my waistband preparing to strip when I stared down the dark hall to freedom. This was reminiscent of my younger days at St. Benedict’s where Sister Paula would make me wait in her office and think about my bad behavior before returning with a heavy leather strap. That was a rite of passage however this was real life with a real decision. I chose to accept this. In a society with civil justice built around judgment, compensation and restitution, this man had his own brand of justice in store for me and I was both curious and excited. I removed my briefs and could feel a draft of air caress my genitals. Then I remembered I was to kneel on the cement of his basement floor. I sort of laughed at my situation but grew increasingly erect at the thought of this depravity. Soon I had both hands over my crotch in an attempt to suppress my excitement. But not soon enough. I heard his footsteps approaching down the stairway and then he opened the door. He had changed his clothes and had donned latex chaps with what appeared to be a black satin g-string. The stretchy briefs offered little support as his cock swayed with each step; this man was hung like a horse. He was also shirtless but had a full latex hood and mask. For some reason I let out a little laugh. Suddenly, I was truly scared. It would be one of those long-term ordeals! A Pulp Fiction moment for sure. He turned and walked to the door down the hall and locked it with a key. I could see that he was wearing women’s panties backwards that sort of gave the appearance of a thong He was very serious and his little exhibition would pale compared to the pain and humiliation I would probably endure. There were a couple keys on a ring attached to his belt as well as a set of handcuffs. He walked by me and pulled the heavy bag off a hook. He then turned to me and told me to raise my arms. His crotch was within three inches of my face as I began to tremble. I could smell his cologne. I reluctantly brought my arms up as he swiftly cuffed both wrists and dragged me to my feet. He lifted my bound wrists over the hook in the truss of the ceiling and cuffed my ankles together. “Are you a cop?” I asked. The man grabbed my nuts and squeezed them like a vice. “I told you to address me as ‘Master’! Now, we shall start with the first of many contrition.” When he released his grip I nearly collapsed from the dull but intense ache. The man had just unabashedly handled my privates, I remember thinking. He turned to grab a black leather belt out of his work bench then reached up to closed a window. “What are you going to do to me…master?” I reluctantly queried. The man replied, “Have you ever been whipped, slave?” “Not really…I mean, as a boy I was given…” “You have not been whipped until today, I assure you.” he said. “You will be whipped until you bleed and then whipped some more. Let’s begin.” He wasted no time in meting out one lash after the other. He spared no part of my body as I thrashed in cadence to his whip. I screamed as each lash stung the welts of previous blows. I was shocked that this complete stranger had no problem administering corporal punishment on another. He circled me no less than a dozen times making sure he’d hit my privates repeatedly. He was sweating heavily and gritting his teeth as he wound up for the next stroke. His muscles were tone and his nipple rings were taut as he swung. “How much more?” I gasped. He took a moment to reach over to my underwear, wad them up and shove them in my mouth. I bit down to help endure the seemingly endless lashes I would receive. He grabbed a quirt and landed the remaining shots with painful accuracy. My semi-erect cock didn’t go unnoticed and my nuts were not spared from the diabolic lash. I could feel my testicles begin to swell from the trauma which only made them an easier target. Anyone who has never been whipped doesn’t know the shock and burning of each lash. The pain was awful. The time between whips began to increase and I knew it was probably near the sessions’ end. This was little comfort since the bulge in the man’s g-string was stretching the shiny fabric to capacity. He uttered a breathy “100” as he wearily tossed the whip aside. It was at that point I lost consciousness. When I awoke there was silence. I had been released from the ceiling and was bent and bound over the length of a saw horse. I felt as though I had the worst sunburn of my life as the crease of my arms strained in the confines of the cuffs. The faint squeak of the man’s latex was audible as he quietly approached me from behind. I turned my head and could see him reach under and tug his g-string to the side releasing his erect shaft and balls. This time it didn’t sway. His cock was fully erect with a menacing presence. He rolled a thick rubber ‘O’ ring down the length of his shaft. I looked away as he pulled down a jar and removed the lid. I was naïve in hoping it was a salve and he would mercifully tend to my burning skin but this was not to be. “Sir, I…I am not gay,” I reminded him. My comment fell on deaf ears as he replaced the lid. I could hear the familiar sound of him slather and stroke his penis with lubricant. I jolted as he fondled my nuts with his jellied hand and then felt a finger probe my hole. “OW!” I shrieked, as he twisted it around. “This is part two of your penance, slave. I’m going to enjoy teaching you a painful lesson.” He paused for a moment before delicately resting his member like a wiener between my buns and clutched them tightly. He began gliding back and forth like the bow over violin strings but then stopped, took a deep breath and stood up. After ten seconds or so I turned my head to get a peripheral view of what was happening when he said, “Shall I discontinue, slave?” I laid in silence wondering why I hadn’t instinctually agreed. That hot feeling of excitement and embarrassment rushed across my face as he discovered my secret longing to be violated. He crossed his arms with true concern as his bare shaft stood in waiting. “Shall I stop?” he repeated as if stepping out of character. “I. I’m…well…” I stuttered. “Would you like for this to stop?” he asked impatiently. I paused for a moment and said with resignation, “No, Master.” I could not believe I had just given the green light for this man to penetrate me here bound like this. The truth was: I needed him to dominate me in the most emasculating way. I was unsure why he gave me an option at all except that it placed the burden on me as a willing participant instead of victim. It became easy to shamelessly enjoy and embellish the session without contradiction. He readily moved back into position as the cold head of his penis made contact with my ass hole. My entire body shivered with adrenaline as master’s rubber clad legs straddled mine. “Just relax and breathe, little girl.” He whispered in my ear. “Good slave.” “Oh, my god! Ouch!” I yelled. I was being stretched beyond belief as his cock’s head penetrated my burning hole. With the head in place he slid his palms against my buns and slowly parted them open. My sensitive skin felt like it was tearing as it most definitely was. His knees bent slightly as he let gravity do the rest. I breathed and grunted like a scene from a child birth film as his shaft descended slowly into me. Each passing vein and rib of his erection seemed distorted as it wedged past my tightest opening. My mouth was agape but I couldn’t bring myself to scream; just the tears of unbearable pain streamed down my face. “I’ve broken in hundreds of boys and women before. Just relax,” he said. His ‘punishments’ were evidently a regular thing but I was slightly comforted by the thought of his expertise and domination. The pressure against my insides produced a strange sensation that worsened as he buried his member deeper. Then I felt his weighty scrotum rest against mine when he could go no further. He stopped and there was only the sound of our heavy breathing. He reached under and handled my rigid shaft while rubbing his thumb over the slippery tip to see if I was aroused. He released his grip but I still felt I was going to come at any moment. A bead of sweat ran down the end of my nose and eventually dripped to the floor in the minute before he decided to back out. I thought he was about to exit but then he began to plunge back in - this time a little faster. Again, I gasped and nudged forward as his heavy balls bumped mine. “It’s okay to scream,” he reminded me. “I want you to scream.” This seemed more like a request on his behalf and one which I honored but not once did I scream for him to stop. He slowly slid his hands around my throat and said, “You are a whore and a slut and are enjoying this to no end, aren’t you?” “Yes,” I uttered. “Yes? Yes what?” Master’s grip was intense and I couldn’t respond. “Yes, you’re a whore…” “…that needs this punishment.” I interrupted with my remaining breath. He removed his hands from my throat before repeating the pumping at a faster pace. He was relishing this moment I could tell. I began to shriek in cadence to his pumping. “This is not punishment for you, you dirty whore!” he seethed. He rose from his prone position and grabbed my waist as he cursed under his breath. He was close to coming as he grabbed my blonde mane and yanked my head back before slam-fucking me. He called me every nasty name imaginable. I was shrieking continuously as he pounded away. It strangely occurred to me that no condom was in use but I didn’t care. Slaves don’t need that consideration, I didn’t deserve it and I preferred it this way. I felt the pulsation of his cock as it coated my inside one load after the next. When he was spent he collapsed onto me and whispered, “Pay back is certainly a bitch! You shouldn’t have lied to me earlier.” “Thank you, Master - I deserve it.” What?! I couldn’t believe I had just said that but it felt extremely naughty and at that moment I came involuntarily. He continued laying on top of me caressing my long hair. I could smell the rubber of his hood and the odor of our sweat. “I’m think I’m coming, Master,” I whispered. He sighed and proceeded to pull out. My hole was numb and his exit was hardly noticeable. He gave my butt a sound smack as he tucked himself back into his pouch. “It’s over,” said Master. After cutting my rope and undoing my cuffs he walked down the hall. He unlocked and opened the exit door and then returned to the room and said, “Please take your clothes and leave. We’re done.” There was the sound of the dead bolt and he was gone. I was ambivalent with his parting words, to say the least. I sat on the floor and bawled for quite awhile before regaining composure. Oddly, the pain was not the source of my anguish; it was the longing to be controlled and owned by this Master and the sudden realization it was through. No one had ever dominated me or even tried. Once he took over I dropped the veneer of resistance and found tranquility in submission. He must’ve sensed I needed a heavy hand from the start to force the issue and for this I’m grateful. I carefully put my clothes on and walked to my car. My skin felt raw and my anus was burning. The evening air felt good but my surroundings seemed familiar yet different. In fact, everything after that evening seemed different. I still think of that ordeal often and not with a trace of resentment. I cannot see an old Porsche without becoming sentimental and I drive past his home regularly. I masturbate constantly - sometimes two or three times a day. My office has a closet that is way too convenient but I am always cautious. I consider myself hetero in spite of all this. I have no interest in other men but cannot forget the look Master first gave me when he knew I was his: the silent, unwavering leer that made me shifty and unsure. But I don’t foresee this happening again. My punishment and subsequent violation has yet to lose its erotic novelty and my only hope is that someday we’ll meet again and he’ll take me as his slave and property. Next month I will pay visit to a ‘house of pain’ here in Seattle. I fear this could be an expensive hobby which is why I’m willing to live in bondage should the right master make him/herself known. Well, this was supposed to be a written experience of me buying a vintage car. Thank you for letting me share my depraved experience with you. Note: If you come across this, Master, please contact me at the link below. Caveat Emptor 'Are you afraid?' The question hangs in the air. It is a loaded question, of course. To be afraid is to not trust and, if she did not trust why then has she allowed herself to be in this position? 'Willingly', judging by her rapid breathing as the ropes circled her, the flush to her cheeks as she was restrained. The answer to the question, of course, is that she didn't know how this would feel. It's easy to trust when your wrists aren't bound, pulled up, arms extended behind you. It's easy to believe in your judgment when your ankles aren't kept wide apart by a spreader bar. And it all looked like a good call before I ran a rope from the ring on the collar around her neck to the bar between your ankles, tying it off, keeping her bent over. But it's like playing cards... I see your 'trust' and raise it my 'reality'. Not such a strong hand now, is it? Not quite so sure it shouldn't be folded, are you? And, to stretch the analogy further, I need her to raise. If she folds, nothing is achieved except a mild exposure to something this girl was born for and that is a waste of both of our time. So, slowly does it. No hard yanks with the rope as it went on, instead slowly pulling it taught. No assumption of permission, but instead telling her what I wanted to do, seeing that it was ok, different things in my mind to replace each step if she said no so as not to lose momentum. But in the end she just nodded, eyes wide, seeing it before it happened. A nod and a whispered 'I understand' or simple 'yes'. Permission given, minimal hesitation. So far so good. 'Do you want to go on girl? Do you want to go further?' I hear her inhale, maybe a little shakily, steeling herself and I know her answer before she gives it. 'Yes. I want to go on.' I have told her to wear what she wished to when she came to me as it was irrelevant. Once she got here, the next time she saw what she came in would be when she left. I had already decided what she would wear and it was laid out for her after I showed her into her room for the weekend. She arrived that morning, tired from a lack of sleep the night before, her mind no doubt in turmoil. I wonder if she wavered in her decision. Regardless, she is here now, dressed as I wished. But what was in her mind as she saw her home for the next two nights. I wonder what she thought as she showered in the en-suite, if she looked for a hidden camera or two. I wonder if she looked in the mirror as she put on her make-up and wondered if anything was behind it. Ah her make-up. I adore a woman in mascara for reasons we may come to later. Ditto lipstick, which should be dark and bloody and red, femme fatale lipstick, glossy and deep to contrast the paleness of her skin. It's a simple outfit but one that she would not have worn the like of before and one I have no doubt made her cringe and wonder what the hell she had let herself into even as she put it on. First is the high waist-clincher, steel boned, black and purely functional, and no frills. I told her not to worry about fastening it as tight as she could because I would see to that when she was ready. Hold-up black stockings for her legs but no shoes for her feet. Not yet, anyway. A pair of black silk panties and over it all a simple, loose, long, black chemise to finish and allow her to stand before me with some degree of modesty. But not that much. Her nipples push the thin fabric even as she first stood before me dressed. She looked tiny in her stocking feet, tiny and achingly vulnerable. Just one more little artifice stripped away and the more the merrier. And now she is bound, exposed, her vulnerability increasing with every minute. 'Are you sure girl?' as I say this, run my hand over the curve of her rump, resting it at the base of her back. 'Do you understand what awaits you? Where I will take you?' 'Not really... but I trust you.' I smile. 'Are you sure that's wise?' There's a pause. 'It's a bit late if it isn't,' she replies softly. Can't argue with that, though, of course, it's never really too late. I run my hand down her rear, the cleft of her cheeks spreading slightly under the thin material. Palm flat, I run my hand between her legs and over the heat of her. She lets out a low, shaky breath as press a finger down on to her, her head lowering as she does so. I gently move my finger around, pressing hard through the material and she utters a low, partially bitten-back moan. 'You're very wet, girl. Why is this do you think?' 'I don't know...' I pause, hand lifted away. A beat. 'Mind your manners girl. Remember your place.' 'Yes sir. Sorry sir.' 'Good girl,' and the hand returns to its place, finger to its duty. The moan again, not quite as hidden. 'Thank you sir,' comes the whisper of her voice. 'Why are you here, girl?' 'To learn, sir.' 'What do you want to be taught?' 'Everything you want to teach.' 'That could take some time.' I press hard, pushing my finger up and down against her clit and pressing my palm hard against. She inhales sharply, a gasp almost and I feel her press back towards me. So eager. 'Yes sir.' 'Do you like my touch, girl?' 'Very much sir. Very much.' I take my hand away and move to stand in front of her. I drop to my haunches, leaning to put my mouth to her ear. 'And what will you do for my touch girl?' I whisper, my hand reaching up to cup a hanging, unrestrained breast. 'What will you do for my pleasure in return for yours?' I take her nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently squeezing, rolling. 'What do you want me to do sir?' Her cheeks are flushed again, her eyes almost closed. She doesn't want to look at me, her own need betraying her sense of self-restraint. With my other hand I turn her face to mine. I smile as she meets my gaze. It's all about timing. I twist. Hard. She cries out. 'I want you to give yourself to me girl, mind body and soul.' I release the pressure on her nipple and she almost sobs. Her eyes glisten. 'Do you want that too?' She looks at me, her eyes brimming again. Her first time really, helpless, vulnerable and in emotional turmoil because she has chosen to be. She feels it, the depth of emotion welling inside her, like a geyser, pressure building and she doesn't really know why. Why is she here? Why does she want this so much? Why does she need it so undeniably? Why? 'Accept it girl,' I whisper to her. I reach my hand back down her body and, shifting to the side, I can comfortably put my fingers to her cunt again. She moans without thought as I once more resume the pressure. 'Look at me girl.' She does, eyes wide, tinged with red as she struggles with the turmoil inside her, struggles with the confusion of need and fear. I press harder against her clit, two fingers rubbing slow and purposefully over her. Her eyes almost roll back in her head, her mouth slightly open as she feels the pleasure of her moment. So close now, so very close. 'What are you girl?' 'Your good girl...' 'Do you want to stop?' 'No... Please sir. Don't stop.' She's shaking now, her pleasure building and building. She can have the first one for free. She'll be earning it. Well, almost free. I rub faster, fingers pulling the night back then slipping under the waistband of her panties to her smooth, shaven sex. The fabric of her panties is sopping wet as I resume my pressure on her clit. 'Oh God...' she whispers. 'Are you going to cum for me, girl?' 'Y-yes sir.' She is pressing back against my fingers, needy and greedy and I begin to very slowly lose the pressure, forcing her to contort and try to crouch to retain the impetus of sensation. 'You want to learn from me, do you?' I reach up with my other hand and take her other breast, feeling the weight as my fingers begin to squeeze gently on her hard nipple. 'Yes, sir.' 'What do you want to learn from me girl?' Faster fingers, harder, pressing back up against her, more pressure than ever. She gasps, eyes open, staring but not seeing as her pleasure bubbles inside. 'What do you want to learn, angel? Answer me...' 'Oh God... oh God... Everything sir... Everything...' 'Pleasure and pain, girl?' She nods, frantic, so close and a million miles away. 'Yes, sir. All of it. Good and bad. I don't care but don't stop. Please sir... may I cum sir? Please sir...' I squeeze her nipple and hook two fingers inside her. 'We will countdown... from 5... When I reach zero, I will tell you to cum. If you cum before that I will be very unhappy with you. Do you understand?' 'Yes... yes sir... I und-' 'Five... What are you?' Long, slow rubs, firm pressure. 'Your good girl.' 'Four... Where do you belong?' Faster... firmer. 'Here sir... Here with you.' 'Three... What do you want to learn?' Two fingers again, pushing forward far enough to almost penetrate her... but not quite. 'How to please you sir... oh God... oh God... I want to be perfect for you!' 'Two... What will you deny me?' Nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing harder as I press against her harder. Her face contorts almost in a grimace as I begin to twist her flesh again. 'Nothing sir. Please...' she cries out and keep her there, balanced between pain and pleasure. 'One... Who do you belong to now, girl?' I push my fingers past her clit and shove them deep inside her, fingering her hard and fast. I twist and squeeze her nipple to match. She cries out so loud it's like scream. Eyes wide, body taught, mouth agape, a look of astonishment on her face as the bubble finally bursts. It's all about timing. 'Cum for me, babygirl...' I whisper. She does. Caveat Emptor Ch. 02 'Good girl...' I whisper to her as her shudders begin to subside, leaving her breathless and a little dazed by it. I give her a minute or two to get herself under control while I attend to a few things out of sight behind her and then check her bindings. A little chafing on the wrists but nothing to persuade me she needs to be repositioned so we shall carry on. I kneel on my haunches beside her again, brushing her hair back from her eyes and turning her to look at me. 'Did you enjoy that girl?' She nods, eyes wide and suddenly wary. A kind of realisation is setting in that we're not done. She knew it, of course, that it wouldn't be this easy, but the beginning has caught her unawares, taking her preconceptions about what was to come and turning them upside down. She expected pain to earn pleasure, but instead she got the pleasure first. So... 'You understand that you have to pay the price for your pleasures, don't you? That you have to pay the price for my pleasure?' She looks at me, eyes wide and fearful again. She nods. Good girl. 'Have you ever been caned?' I whisper to her, stroking her hair, soothing her. She shakes her head. 'No sir.' 'Well, there's always a first time, isn't there girl?' Her eyes close, she takes a breath, exhales and again nods, accepting. 'Yes sir.' 'But first... a little torment.' I stand, fetch something from behind her, returning to show her what it is, holding the bright, glittering scalpel up so she can clearly see it. 'Didn't you say you wanted to be cut? Wanted to bleed? I seem to remember you did...' Her eyes are so wide as to be almost cartoonish. I hold my fingers against her neck and feel her pulse thudding frantically. 'Please... no...' 'Shhh girl. You're safe with me. I know that you're not ready for everything you think you want, not by a long way. Just stay very, very still. This is very sharp and I wouldn't want to cut you with it accidentally...' I stand up again and I can almost hear her trying to find the words, wondering what to do or say... confused and afraid. Out of sight, I put the safety cover back on the blade and swap it for the surgical scissors in my pocket. I rest the cool, thin, blunt back against her skin and feel her stiffen like a board at the touch of the steel. I lift the fabric of her chemise between the jaws. Slowly, almost entirely silently, I cut the fabric. She remains motionless, utterly frozen in place as I slowly part the material, finally cutting the shoulder straps so the whole thing falls to the beneath her. 'Well done girl... all done.' She lets out the breath she has been holding, utterly unconcerned about her sudden nakedness, her attention having been focused on avoiding an accident with the knife I didn't use. The clincher she wears laces up at the back and it is naturally not even close to being as tight as it could be. I rectify that, incrementally pulling it tighter and tighter, top to bottom, top to bottom, squeezing it around her, pulling her in, restricting her breathing slowly but surely until she can only take quite short, shallow breaths. I squat in front of her and see her pleasingly flushed face. I smile, stand and walk behind her, pushing two fingers deep inside her still wet cunt. She moans audibly, comfortably the point of hiding her feelings. I come back and put the fingers to her lips. She opens her mouth and takes them in willingly. 'Good girl... drink it down for me...' Her tongue swirls almost greedily around my fingers until I take them out, wiping them on her mouth and cheek and then standing again. From the cupboard against the back wall I choose the cane I think appropriate and, with no word of warning, I walk to the side of her, tap it twice against her skin and bring it down in a short, hard stroke against her flesh. She jumps, as much as the ropes allow, as if she's been electrocuted. Her cry is one of shock and pain. I hear her bite back a profanity and then just begin to suck in as much air as she can, the initial impact, I know, now giving way to that burning feeling which seems to grow and grow. It's like the bar of a fire igniting on your skin. The welt that raises is unremarkable, not vivid and bruised but merely a barely raised stripe. The cane I chose isn't going to give that result without a huge backswing but know the sounds fill in most of the detail in her mind. It will hurt, no mistake, but I know in her head she sees a vivid red welt, raised and high like a rail across her skin. 'How was that, girl?' 'Very painful sir... oh wow, that hurt.' 'Well that was just a warm-up stroke, get my range kind of thing. First, I'm going to get you ready and then you'll count off the next 10. Do you understand?' Her head drops and I can see her trembling again. 'Yes sir.' 'If you lose count, we start again...' 'Y-yes sir.' Holding the toy I took from the wall, I slide it inside her, turning its deep vibrations as high as they will go. 'Oh God....' 'Who do you belong to, girl?' 'You sir... you...' Her breathing quickens further as I begin to slide the toy in and out. 'Is this good?' 'Oh yes sir... very good... yes...' 'Do you want to be caned girl?' I hold the toy in place, pushing it deep into her. I think she sobs a little. 'Yes sir.' 'Good girl.' The toy comes out. Clamps now... nice ones too, my favourites. I call them lever clamps, though I don't know if that's their proper name or not. They're like very elongated U shaped, the two ends fitted with hard rubber cones, flat sides facing, to form the part that grips, or rather simply crushes. A three position lever in the middle dictates how close together those cones go, from quite wide and loose to virtually touching. And the lever locks in place, ensuring the grip is solid and lasting. I lay them on the floor underneath her head so she can see them and I put them on. 'Be brave for me angel... Be brave.' She doesn't scream. It's more a kind of sickened sob, like a low howl of pain as each on goes on, the jaws squeezing the flesh behind each nipple brutally. By the time they are both in place, she is sobbing, tears falling from her eyes to the floor. 'Such a good girl,' I whisper, once more sliding the toy inside her. 'Shhh girl... Shhh... Let them settle there. Don't fight them, don't move, let them settle.. Good girl...' I whisper, slowly sliding the toy in and out of her, the vibrations low and heavy. She calms, the hitches in her breathing smoothing out. 'Good girl... Good girl...' The toy comes out. The clamps, being the shape the are, are able to be fixed behind the nipple, not touching that nub of flesh at all, but bringing the brutal jaws together around the breast behind. This, of course, means the pain is less precise, less sharp than if they had the nipple itself in their grip. This torment is heavier altogether, more brutal and unrefined. The shape also means that tender bud of flesh is actually exposed and open for additional abuse, though the nipple can be somewhat distorted by the pressure behind it. I choose simple spring-loaded clamps, like crocodile clips and squeeze the jaws far apart before allowing them to close gradually, biting into the flesh, squeezing, compressing. Eyes squeezed shut, she just hisses as they close onto her flesh. When each is on, her eyes go from wide and astonished to squeezed closed in time with her laboured breathing. It takes longer with the toy to calm her again and this time I allow the pleasure to carry her further, using my spare hand to hold a second, small, bullet vibrator against her clit. Before long, she is lost in the pleasure, the pain there but able to be ignored. She begins to rock in time to my thrust into her, grinding herself back, losing herself more and more. Good. Next step. Toys away. Breast dangling freely, I wrap a length of rope around the base of each, twisting it in a simple figure eight, round and round. Between the breasts, I turn the rope to form a separator between them, ensuring they don't get pulled together. The rope isn't tight, but with the weight of the breasts heading south, there is little resistance to the pressure of the bind and, before long, they are nicely taught and swollen. Finally, the weights. As a general, all purpose weight, you cannot beat a padlock. They come in many shapes, sizes and weights. They can be left open and will still stay in place without worry or, with simple sprung carabiners to hook them on to, they can be closed. As well as being extremely easy to use, they are also identical in weight, shape, swing and heft, ensuring torments are equal. I choose carabiners, first hooking the narrow end of a carabiner into the base of the U of each clamp. I then add two sizable padlocks, hefty lumps of metal, per side. Initially, of course, aside from a few involuntary hisses, the pain is quite tolerable for her but that's because I am taking the weight of the metal in one hand and not her. Once I gently allow the carabiners to take up the slack and her flesh take the weight, her pain increases over and over and over. 'The less you move, the less it hurts,' I whisper to her as the weights, stretching her flesh, pulling her nipple down, stretching it, slowly turn and spin in the air. She is sobbing again, lost and in pain, no doubt miserable and full of fear as to how much worse this can be. She fights to control her movement, fights to stop her muscles causing her the slightest movement, praying for the weights to come to a stop. 'You can quit anytime you want girl... you can just tell me you've had enough, that this is all beyond you and in a few minutes it's all over... all gone. You get dressed, be on your way.' I whisper this to her, kneeling by her head again, stroking her hair. 'Or you can endure... you can show me what a good girl you are... and you can have your reward... and my approval, my satisfaction that I was right about you, and you were right about yourself... 'But just say the word, and it can end girl...' She almost shakes her head but remembers the consequence that might have and simply says 'No sir. Please. I'm ok.' 'Sure, angel?' 'Yes sir... I'm sure.' She is crying again as she says it, most likely because she doesn't know why she is doing this, what she is proving. She just knows she cannot give in, mustn't give in and that she trusts me to know the purpose of this, the point of it. She is in my hands and she believes in me enough to trust I won't drop her, believing more in me and my faith in her than she does in herself. It wonderful to lmow she is taking my word for what is in her best interests over her own. Wopnerful and gratifying and, most importantly, the whole point of the exercise. I move behind her again and take away the spreader bar from between her ankles and the rope holding it there also. Copiously oiling a thick butt-plug, I pull aside her panties and ease it into her, hearing her sharply draw breath but little more as it slips in place. A wire comes from the base and I smooth this between the cheeks of her ass, the controller hanging loosely between her legs. This is tucked into the top of the front of one of her stockings. A second vibrator, thicker and longer, is pushed into her cunt, with the wire trailing out to the controller which is again tucked into the front of her stocking top. She moans as this slides into her and then 'ahh's in sudden pain as she moves too far and sets the weights spinning. I'm trying to work a little faster, not wanting those breast bound or the clamps on for too long. Taking her panties by the back of the waistband, I pull them up between her cheeks, the material over the top of the vibrator, helping hold it in place. Taking the rope again, I fold it over and in half, pass it round her ankles, loop it through the fold, pull it tight against and wrap it round her ankles, taking the two loose ends to tie it off between. I do the same around her knees, pulling her legs closer and closer. Finally, a third rope goes right under the cheeks of her ass, pushing them out, and the flesh of the tops of her thighs back, exposing her and also squeezing the toys deeper into her. I retie her collar rope between her ankles to keep her head down, flicking the controllers to their highest setting, hearing her react to the vibrations inside her, trying to feel pleasure so as to block out the pain she is assaulted by with every movement. I stand back, see what I have done. A nod of satisfaction and I pick up the cane. I squat directly in front of her. 'I'm going to cane you now girl. Count each one clearly and don't lose count. There will be 10 in all across your bottom and 5 across your thighs. You will count them separately. As I said, do not lose count or we start again.' I lean forward and gently kiss her forehead. Two pats on the crest of her bottom and then the impact, short pullback, quickly forward like on a spring. The sound cracks across the room and she jumps forward, a cry escaping her and then a scream as the weights jump in place. She fears the cane but now she also fears wehat comes after it even more. 'One...' she says, her voice breathless and strained. I smile and move to reach underneath her, stopping the twisting of the weights. 'Feel the taps, expect the stroke, hold yourself still,' I whisper. Back behind her... two taps... a stroke across the crest of her bottom again, right above the visible red welt from the previous. This time she moves with the impact but not the pain, instead simply drawing in breath sharply, pushing back against it to try and cancel it out. Much better. 'Two...' she says through clenched teeth. Two taps... stroke. Sobs, choking and harsh, fresh tears. Fighting it has its own pain, the pain that comes when you feel just short of being overwhelmed, collapsing, like holding on by your fingernails to a crumbling cliff. 'Th... Three. Three sir.' Two taps to her bottom then a short backswing and a stroke across the backs of her thighs. I never told her what order they would come in. A moan this time, low and hurt, choking back this new, unexpected, fresh pain. 'Four...' she says in a whisper. I wait. 'Sorry?' Confusion for a second from her, a dread no doubt over what she has done... what her mistake was. Then realisation. 'No! One! One sir! One! Three and one! Three and one! Oh God... I'm sorry...' 'Sshh girl. Hush for me. If there is a time to lose count, early on is when it should be. We shall start again, allow you to concentrate a little more, maybe remember daddy's simple instructions with a little more clarity....' Before she can answer the strokes are done... three and one, hard, fast, three to the bottom, one to the thighs to bring us back to where we were. As much as I didn't want to do it at all, it is better done when there are 4 to have rather than when there might be 14. I hope, sincerely, she doesn't forget again. The blows come too fast for her to do much more than give a short series of sharp cries. Back up to date, we return to the familiar 'two taps, stroke' ritual. After the quick successive pain of her penance, it is a blessing for her that she has that short preparation time. Where as once it seemed brutal and unfair, now, in comparison to the short, unannounced and unexpected reprisal, it seems like a mercy. As the last stroke across the thighs, is delivered, through freely flowing tears and gasping sobs she counts off the fifth. Her skin is a criss-cross of red welts, most of which will be gone in a day or two, the worst gone in a week. No scars, no blood, minimal bruising. The worst pain is reserved for when I take off the clamps. She hisses when the little nipple clamps come off but the agony simply knocks the breath out of her as the U clamps are opened as gently as I can and the clamp, carabiner and weights are lifted off. In their wake is crushed, reddened flesh, the shape of the rubber cones like a stamp in her skin. They look permanent, disfiguring... but they'll be gone completely in an hour or so other than a little redness. Her breasts are released, the skin a pleasant, stuffed pink by the time the rope slips off. I untie her legs and collar rope, sliding the toys thickly from her. I slide her stockings down and off along with her panties. I untie the clincher and ease it from her body. Immediately she draws a huge breath. Finally, her hands are released, the wrists a little raw and tender from the abrasion. Aside from a collar she is naked. I motion with my finger and she gingerly turns on the spot. Reddened breasts, deformed nipples, welted thighs and bottom, mascara tears drying on her cheeks. She looks, to me, beautiful. I smile at her with very real pride. 'Well done angel,' I whisper. She looks at me and just breaks down into tears, fresh and clean and pure. She sobs even as I wrap my arms around her and gently cradle her head against me chest. Tears stain my shirt as she just lets it flood through her... barriers gone... emotions raw and alive... all the suffering she has endured gone to be replaced by a realisation of her strength, her resolute determination and her willingness to prove herself to both of us. Before this, she was weak and thought she was vulnerable. Now she is vulnerable and knows she is strong. 'Shhh girl.... I'm here for you girl... I'm here...' She holds me very tight and doesn't ease until the tears run out and the sobs start to fade. 'Angel?' 'Yes, sir?' 'You know what you need?' She shakes her head, wide eyes looking up at me. 'I do...' Caveat Emptor Ch. 03 I lead her to the bathroom, turning her to face me and reach behind her to remove the collar. Her eyes are red rimmed, tired. Good. Opening the shower cubicle, I turn the water on, putting my hand under the spray until the temperature is perfect. 'In you go girl,' I whisper to her. I then remove my clothes and join her under the hot spray. I scrub her from head to foot, soaping her tenderly, hands gentle on her various welts and aches. I wash her face clean of the make-up that has streaked and smeared. Gently I turn her, lifting her hands high above her, palms against the cool tiles, her head hanging down as I run my hands slowly, gently up along the inside of her legs, to her thighs, to her hot, swollen sex. She moans lightly as I slide my fingers between her lips, smiling to myself as they slip easily into her tight wetness. 'Good girl...' I whisper, my other hand circling her easily, softly running her nipples between my fingers, feeling the stiff flesh, the pain already forgotten as her arousal once more takes hold. Slipping my fingers from her, I take my cock in my hand and ease into her cunt. She emits a low whine as I push into her, pushing back to welcome me into her body. She is bliss to penetrate, a delight of sensation, velvet and silk to my cock as I claim her. Taking her hips in my hands I slowly begin to fuck her, sliding in and out slowly and smoothly. She simply hangs her head, pushing back as easily as I push forward, meeting me, accepting me, and needing me. I move a hand from her hip to gently wrap my fingers in her hair, pulling her head back and then putting my fingers to her mouth, the water cascading down as I feel her lips part to accept my fingers in, closing again to suck on them like they are nectar, her tongue caressing them lazily. I know without seeing that her eyes are closed, that she is allowing her arousal to consume her, the suffering she has endured feeding her need for pleasure, for a pure sensation of desire and lust. I slide from her and turn her to face me, seeing her hair plastered down her face, her eyes heavy and languid, her face flushed pink. I lean forward and gently take each of her nipple in my mouth in turn, feeling the marks and dents, fading but still noticeable under my tongue, evidence of what she has endured and, to me, a precursor to what will shortly follow. Her fingers fold into my hair, holding me to her as my tongue and teeth gently savour the texture of her flesh. I look at her and smile, turning the shower off, the drip of water from our bodies the only sound as we leave the shower. I towel her dry, slowly, patting her skin rather than roughly wiping it. I dry her completely, taking my time, moving her when required, her body obeying without thought. 'Go to my room child, put on what is on the bed and then sit patiently and wait for me.' She nods and leaves and I set about drying yself, giving her the time she needs to prepare for me. When I return to her a little while later she is sat on the edge of my bed, her hands in her lap, head bowed. I smile at her conformity. She looks up as I close the door behind me and I motion for her to stand. She is beautiful in white, ethereal almost under the soft lights. Legs in white silk stockings, held up by the matching, wide suspender belt that graces her hips. As she turns I see through the thin, wispy lace of her fresh, white chemise, how perfectly symmetrical the straps are, two down the front and two perfectly framing her backside, the welts faded but still visible on her white flesh. Moving up I see her hard nipples pushing through the material and then to her face, deep red lipstick, mascara perfectly reapplied. On her nails is the matching varnish, shining and lustrous and, finally the scent she has adorned her skin with, a scent of my choosing that incites my senses as I drink her in. She looks perfect and she almost is. Almost. 'Sit girl... I'm hungry.' She does so and I kneel down, smoothing back her chemise, opening her thighs to reveal her smooth, engorged sex. Sliding two fingers into her, I lower my head to seek her most vulnerable need, my tongue probing and seeking, revealing and then tormenting, slowly teasing her, moving around and over this little nub of flesh, pushing my mouth down further and sucking on it, teeth grazing it lightly as my fingers drive in and out of her, hard and slow and deep. I reach up with my free hand and gently push her back, the bed moving slightly as she stretches out. I feel her hands in my hair, holding me to her and slide a third finger into her. Looking up I see her stretched out, head arched back, body rising in time to my attentions. She begins to gasp, her breathing shortening as her orgasm approaches. It didn't take much to get her there, as I intended. I allow her to cum, feeling her bucking against me as I hold my free hand against her, keeping her in place as her pleasure crashes in. Her cunt is liquid, her body almost pouring her pleasure, my hand slick with it. Her moan is almost a cry of anguish, such was her need for release. I stand and smile and she looks up at me with lost eyes. 'Lay here girl,' I say softly, patting for her to move, to lay properly on the bed and she does so. I lay alongside her, turning her to face me. So beautiful... such a pleasure to indulge in, such a delightful commodity. Once more my fingers push into her and, as they sink to the deepest, my thumb hard against her clit, I kiss her, deeply, breathlessly, gently biting her lips as our tongues meet, tasting and sampling and savouring and devouring. Her need just grows and before long I draw back and see her eyes almost uncomprehending as I let her cum again. She gasps, mouth open, comical almost as this second assault on her senses consumes her. 'Good girl, angel... cum for me... show me how willing you are...' I whisper as she does that very thing. I undo my gown and open it, allowing my arousal to show, my cock growing before her eyes. I feel my own need, apart and separate from hers, begin to grow. She doesn't need asking, smiling at me as she moves to lower her head to my tip, her lips parting, her eyes wide and alive as she takes me into her mouth. I sigh in pleasure as she begins to try and please me. My fingers are still embedded inside her and I gently ease her into the position I need, laying by my side, her in before I can progress. 'Are you a submissive, child?' I whisper. She doesn't even raise her mouth to speak, nodding slightly, her eyes boring into mine as her head dips up and down. You need long fingers, which I do have, and the best to use are the index and middle finger. It is possible with three but you cannot arc three back against the hand as easily or as far as two. I turn my hand a little and then look for that tell-tale change of texture inside her with my curved fingers. I find it. Your eyes widen briefly and then almost roll back in your head as I push hard, running my fingers in a kind of 'come here' motion deep inside you. She looks at me with stunned, uncomprehending eyes; it's first time. How cute. 'Submission is obedience child, it is sacrifice. It is accepting what another needs over what you need, do you understand?' She looks at me mutely, her mouth trying to find its rhythm again as this wholly unexpected sensation overwhelms her senses, her instincts. I move my fingers faster, harder and she is gone. Hand barely moving, mouth to busy gasping to pleasure me as her orgasm screams through her like a banshee. There is no gentleness to this emotion, no quiet seduction. It is an assault on the mind and body, a ferocious howl that blocks everything out but itself. She cums explosively, unable to help herself, unable to restrain herself. I begin almost shoving my fingers in and out, each time the tips press hard against this place inside her, moving up and down over it. As my hand pushes home I feel her juice almost running out of her, flowing, splashing a little even. I reach down and push her head down on my cock as she continues to buck and shudder. I hold her down, her lips against my skin, her cheeks bulging as she gags, pulling her up to draw a gasping, desperate breath before plunging her down again. Her eyes are watering I see, mascara running again. I now drive my fingers in and out of her, hard, fast, brutal, her thighs glistening, her cunt wide and open and I pull her head back by the hair, lifting her to look at me as she finally breaks, mouth hung open, eyes astonished and blank; well-fucked, you might say. Tears flowing now, her mouth closing as she begins to cry, the final throes of her pleasure receding, leaving her overwhelmed, lost, shattered in their wake. She has never looked so beautiful. I sit up, and pull her face down, fingers digging into her hips, lifting her to meet me. Briefly I plunge into her gaping cunt, soaking my shaft with her before pushing my glistening tip to her tight, puckered anus. She says nothing, her fingers silently clenching the sheets as I push into her, merely gasping, head back as I penetrate her. Reaching down, I once more push my fingers into her, once find that place and once more press... stroke... torment. 'No.... please... no more...' she says in her broken, anguished voice. 'Ssshhhh angel... It's for the best...' As I thrust in and out of her, so my fingers bring an orgasm she doesn't want, a battering of her senses she cannot prepare for. She sobs openly as she cums, loud and free, pain beyond what she has experienced with a need she cannot deny, a pleasure she cannot avoid or accept. And as she finally yields, as the last fragments of her self-control crumble and she screams without knowing why, I cum into her, ramming home as my own pleasure overwhelms me, over and over, fingers dug deep into her flesh, body crushed against hers as I fuck her, truly fuck her, my fingers still stimulating her, still torturing her. 'Good girl... such a very good girl...' I whisper as I slide from her, spent and shattered. She simply rolls on her side and curls up, her body shuddering slightly as she seeks to regain her senses. Exhaling heavily, I roll from the bed and rewrap my robe. Looking back briefly, I see her laying there, still curled up. Her eyes meet mine. 'Thank you... sir,' she whispers, eyes red, face wet, lips trembling. I smile. 'You're welcome child,' I whisper, leaving the room, closing the door gently behind me. Nearly time fo rher to be on her way.