Fortitude

They hang before Him, His eyes glinting in the candlelight like burning coals, igniting all they survey. I blush, the redness suffusing my pale features. Only my pantyhose and panties left.

I balance now on one leg, my mesh prison obstinate in the awkwardness of the moment. Finally, after no small measure of humiliation, they come free and I place them atop my pile of discards. I have only my panties left. Can I continue?

My last undergarment, chosen online so carefully, so long ago, has remained in my lingerie drawer for many, many months...years. Why I chose them tonight, I have no idea. Perhaps to bolster my confidence, for I think they flatter me. I rotate slightly to my left, obscuring the full frontal exposure that turns my flesh a timorous pink.

"No. Face Me," He states, as though He has the right. He does, and I know it. And so, turning back I slip my thumbs beneath the elastic band and disguise my humiliation with a flirtatious flick of my hips. He is not amused.

"Vanity. Another punishment stroke," He responds heavily. I am rebuked, and my gaze drops once more. It is He who pauses now, His inspection taking in the contours of my flesh, insinuating itself deep into my private places.

I shiver.

Then, rising, He circles behind me and discharges my instructions.

"Move forward, Anna. Bend at the waist and place your palms flat on the surface of the chair," He directs. "Then spread your legs."

I hasten to obey. No "punishment strokes" this time! I wait, seconds, minutes, centuries, and then He speaks.

"Do you know what these are?" He questions, dangling a pair of steel clamping devices before my eyes.

"No," I choke. "But I can guess."

"Sir!" he reprimands. "You'll address me properly, woman! Another punishment stroke!"

"No, Sir," I reply, trembling. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Yes, Anna. You will be soon enough. In the meantime, I'll enlighten you. They're for those ripe breasts of yours, girl. For your nipples to be exact, and they're going to hurt. Terribly. Shall I continue?"

My body refuses to cooperate, my mind numb with fear, but I nod my assent.

"Speak up, Anna! Ask Me nicely. I want to hear you!"

I cringe. "Yes...Sir," I croak. "Please, Sir. My nipples..."

He pauses, as though trying to decide if my tone was sufficiently differential, then circles to my right and reaches for my vulnerable tit.

His touch, oh his touch is gentle! It strokes me, it caresses me until my flesh responds and blossoms and the womanly spring between my legs begins to flow. Then, milking my nipple, much as one would the teat of a cow, He stretches its swollen fullness to it's most extreme, and...

"OH!!" I cry out as the steel jaws clamp into my tender flesh, sudden tears fouling my vision. It hurts! It hurts so very much. I want it off...I want it OFF! But instead I suck in my belly and fortify myself. I will not fail...I can not fail.

He circles now to my left, the second clamp held at ready.

"Shall I continue, Anna?" He asks, His tone unbending.

I search for my voice. "Yes...Sir. Please...please."

He grunts. Satisfaction? Then He begins to tease and prepare my second tit for its trial. Again I feel the moisture flow heavily between my thighs. This can't be happening. It can't!

The pain this time is worse, heightened by my fear and anticipation of the act. I sears through my breast, a screaming accompaniment to the throbbing agony shared by its mate. I can't go on. I can't go on, and yet I do.

He circles to the rear now, and His hands caress my rounded orbs.

Slowly He traces the contours of my crevasse, parting it with his fingers and exposing my puckered star to His gaze.

"Have you ever had a man up your ass?" He asks, the crudity of his question meant to unbalance me.

I falter, but remembering the "punishment strokes" I regain my footing and offer a response.

"No, Sir," I whisper, my mind beating back the dull, dark pain that pulses like a living thing inside of me.

Slowly, He circles my anus with his finger, then plunging it into the slippery wetness that flows below, He coats it and returns to His mark.

At once I am impaled! My body shakes under the assault, and for a moment I forget the flaming circle of pain that tightens about me. He probes...He thrusts, and my tears begin to flow in earnest.

Finally, with a sucking sound He retreats, leaving the warm, slippery wetness of his digit behind. Without hesitation He circles back to my right, and quickly removes the clamp.

OH!!!

If the pain of application had almost undone me, it was nothing compared to the searing, red torment that lances through my nipple as the blood returns to my breast. I gasp! I open my mouth to protest, but only silence fills the room.

"Smack!" His bare hand connects with my left buttock, sending shock waves through my body and into my brain.

"Smack!!" Again!

I cringe.

He now circles to my left and reaches for the last clamp. I shuddered inwardly, anticipating the livid bolts of pain which are to come...and then they arrive. My knees began to buckle, but I hastened to bolster their tentative support lest I hear "Another punishment stroke, Anna."

Finally, I am free and the Master bids me stand once more. He resumes His seat now and again captures me with His intensity.

"You wanted to flirt, girl, to strut your stuff. Well do it now! Open that wet box of yours and let me see what you have. All of it. Spread your legs, jut your hips. Use your fingers and part your labia until I can see your clit and down into that dark, oozing hole you hide below. Be filthy...seduce Me."

A slight mewling sound escapes my lips, and my face reddens at the thought. What am I to do, what...

"Will you be at work tomorrow, Anna?" He interjects. You won't be able to sit if you keep collecting these punishment strokes! You've just earned another one! Stop whining! You're not a child! No child has breasts like those! No child has slime dripping from her vagina as you do! Open yourself!"

Another punishment stroke! How many now? I've lost count! Quickly I spread my thighs, hips thrust forward, and awkwardly display myself before Him. My vagina drizzles with slick arousal, and my bladder threatens insufferably. It shames me. I close my eyes, hips rocking seductively, and perform as commanded.

"You're positively foaming, girl!" He observes crudely. "You're sexually stimulated by this, aren't you! You like the thought of me stripping away your public façade, exposing your tender innards. I know what you need, Anna. Be prepared! Have you ever been spanked, girl?"

"No Sir," I reply quickly. "Never."

"Not even as a child?" He questions.

"No, Sir," I respond once again. "Not even as a child, Sir."

I can almost see a smile tugging at His lips...almost.

"Well, you be will today, Anna, but as a man spanks a woman, not a child. I will administer a quick set, perhaps ten strokes, just to open your eyes. Then, when you've had a taste of it, I'll allow you to beg for more. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir," I whisper, lips trembling.

"But first," He pauses. I want you to empty your bladder. I won't have you wetting yourself, or me!"

His eyes strip the very cover from my body now, and He continues.

"There is a door to the left, Anna. Do you see it?"

"Yes, Sir," I murmur. "I do, Sir."

"It is a small water closet, Anna, and inside of it you will find a clear glass vase on the shelf. When I give you leave I want you to scramble across the floor and retrieve the receptacle I've mentioned and place it before My feet. Do it...now!"

Quickly I skitter to the far wall, slamming painfully into the door jamb in my haste, and search the tiny room for the required item. It's small...so small, but the upper edge is flared to accommodate...what?

In a heartbeat I'm once again before Him, placing the vase at His feet as required. He pauses, as though deciding on the precise orchestration of the act, then continues with my direction.

He reclines, his feet between my own, and spreads my legs wide.

"Take the vase, Anna, and open your labia once more. Insert it tightly between your lips and fill the container."

What! What kind of man have I come to? Would He watch me relieve myself in so perverted a fashion? I ask myself the question unnecessarily, for I already know the answer. Yes.

Again I reach between my thighs and spread wide my nether lips, exposing the pink flesh which hides within. Then, inserting the clear glass, lens-like within my hairy slit I pause for permission.

"May I, Sir?"

He smiles now.

"Excellent, Anna! You're learning!"

I blush furiously, but it pleases me that He thinks I'm showing improvement. I want that. I need that.

But now the problem magnifies itself. He watches...He watches. Through the clear glass container, I'm sure He will see everything...the private workings of my body, the intimate gush of my urine as it fills the vase. Everything! Suddenly, my bladder fails me and I stand quaking, unable to do as directed.

"Relax, Anna, and let it come." He counsels, understanding my predicament. "Concentrate on the flow, on the wet relief it will give you. Fill the vase, but be careful not to spill any. You can't afford any more penalty strokes!"

I close my eyes now, blocking out the sight of His piercing gaze. His invasive stare pierces me as I stand straddling His thighs, exposed so obscenely. And then it comes. Slowly at first, a trickle, but finally gaining momentum as I gush forth, filling the vase with a sound like water cascading into a small fountain. He reaches forward. caressing my hip, then closes His other hand over my own and steadies the vase so that His view is improved. I want to stop...I want to stop...I want...

And then it's all over, the vase threatening to overflow.

"Place it on the floor, Anna, and wipe yourself with this handkerchief. Then put them both beneath the bench and approach My right side. With your pretty panties on, please, Anna""

Quickly I do as I'm told, carefully tucking the white square between my folds and soaking up the excess urine that threatens to drip from my private regions. Then, gratefully wriggling into my scant undergarment, I circle to His right and await further direction.

The replacement of my lacy undergarment is not long lived, however. For now He traces the flimsy wedge with His finger, probing within the meager triangle of silk until it fills the opening left vacant by the vase.

"You're wet again, Anna! So soon? Well, soak it up, girl, then pull those sweet panties down to your knees and lay yourself over My lap. Don't let them fall, mind you. I'll be watching!"

If it was difficult to remove the thin strip of lace the first time, it is almost impossible now. Desperately I try to close my mind to the heavy wooden brush which sits securely in the Master's fist and to the application of it upon my tender flesh. How will I account myself? How?

But, as directed, I lower my panties once more, anchoring them between my knees, spread wide to keep them from slipping any further. Oh how I want to yank them up one last time and run from this place, this man, but I can't. Again I feel a trickle of viscous fluid escape from my core. Have I no shame!

Awkwardly, I position myself atop His lap, my thighs spread wide in an attempt to secure my panties in the proper spot. He shifts beneath me, raising His knee so that I find my feet without purchase, suspended unsteadily above the floor.

"Do you have a 'safe word' in mind, Anna? One that will tell Me when you've had enough, or perhaps too much?"

I ponder the question. A "safe word"? Would I be needing one? Again I glance at the heavy brush, and the word "compassion" falls between us.

He grunts appreciatively, His hands roaming over my pale, rounded flesh, reaching between to probe my slick folds as I writhe before him, eager for the release that only He can grant. He strokes me, He caresses me, then with a powerful lunge He brings down the brush upon my vulnerable flesh...and I scream.

Again He strikes...and again. Left. Right. Left. Right, until I wriggle in agony and my hands involuntarily fly behind to stave off the blows.

He pauses not a mite, but captures my wrists between His massive hands and pinions them against the small of my back, holding me fast as He a pummels my ass.

"Ten," He announces finally. "Will you have more, Anna?"

[No...please, no]

But, I find myself mouthing the words that I dread the most.

"Y-Yes, Sir. Please..more..." I beg, like a Dickens waif.

And so He continues, redoubling his efforts as the room fills with the sounds of my demise. My wrists struggle, desperate to be free once again, but he holds me tightly, imprisoning me beneath the unceasing blows which rain down upon me. My flesh is on fire! No more...no more! You have broken me...You have...

And then it's over, my panties still stretched between my knees. He flicks them off over my ankles and allows them to drop to the floor.

He places his palm atop my steaming flesh, its welcome coolness doing little to ease the throbbing madness He has created. Once more he probes my slit, examining my copious response with His fingers, then pressing them to my lips.

"Taste it, Anna. It's the taste of liberation. One day yours, but not yet. Not yet."

Humiliated, I part my lips and he plunges the dripping mess inside. But, surprisingly, I find it less than repulsive! In fact, it appeals to me! Eagerly I suckle, drawing his fingers deep into my mouth, relishing the taste of...liberation?

He removes them finally with a quick "pop", then lowers me again to the floor.

"To the beams, girl. The night is short, and we have much to do before we're done with this session!"

THIS session? Is there more to come? I cringe at the thought, but curiously my sex begins once more to bubble its foamy delight.

* * * * *

Chapter Five

Quietly He follows me, then, in spite of His timely admonition He takes his time securing the restraints that hold me to the wooden implement.

Four buckles restrain each limb, leather bindings tightening securely so as not to allow for the slightest play. First one arm, and then the other falls prey, the Master testing the efficiency of my bindings until He nods in satisfaction.

Then, reaching about my waist, He likewise secures another thick belt of leather about my midsection, cinching me in such a way that my body puffs out obscenely both above and below. He examines His work appreciatively, then lowers Himself between my outstretched thighs.

He opens my stance, wider, and wider still until my weight is fairly born between my arms and the pins upon which I stood. Four restraints are likewise buckled about my lower limbs, each securely fastened and tested until the upper set spreads the soft flesh of my thighs and leaves my tender labia ajar once more. To these specialized, upper bonds are added thin strips of leather, each boasting a pair of small, blunt clamps. The purpose here is obvious, and the heat rises to engulf my face.

Watching my eyes, he parts my slit and secures each side with the clamps. Then, adjusting the degree until I am widespread and completely exposed, He fondles me, His lips curling at my starving response. I writhe against his hand, willing it to continue until I have been satisfied, until I have...

But then he stands, wiping my desperate slime against my belly and reaching to my left along the wall. Again I spy The Nipple Clamps, and my flesh shrinks in response, an involuntary effort to escape their fate. But wait, there's something more! On the floor He drops a gag of sorts, something with a rounded attachment. I have never seen such a thing, but immediately I divine its purpose. My head thrashes wildly, the only part of me left immobile, but he ignores my throes and takes my left breast in his right hand.

He pinches, He caresses, and in no time my traitorous flesh blooms between His fingers. I open my mouth in silent protest, but it's to no avail. Immediately I feel the cruel teeth bite into my all too eager flesh, and I part my lips to scream. But nothing escapes, only the muffled sounds of my torment, for now He places the gag into my mouth, its ball pressing intimately against my tongue, stifling all response.

"You may nod three times to simulate your 'safe word", Anna. Do you understand?" He asks.

Thrashing, I nod once...my assent clear...and He continues.

I writhe...I moan, but He continues onward as though He doesn't notice.

My nipple is a flaming dagger of pain by now, and I buck against my restraints. It is then that He introduces a new element into the production.

Reaching into his pocket, He removes two earplugs, the foam kind that swell to fit one's ear canals. What does He want with those, I wonder. I'm gagged, I can't be all that loud!

But, they are not for Him...they're for me. Gently He rolls them between his fingers until they form soft, compressed cones, then quickly inserts them into my ears. Sound retreats, and only the pounding of my heart remains in the dim world to which I have been exiled.

My eyes widen, perhaps to compensate for the diminished degree of sensation I have suffered. Then that too is eclipsed as He snugs a blindfold about my eyes. Sensory deprivation, I think they call it, but it's a misnomer. For now the raging pain in my breasts is increased tenfold, the focal point of all being.

[Compassion?]

I writhe against my bonds, the unknown taunting me in the dim silence. And then I feel Him, His hand fondling my sex, His fingers drawing me out until I override my throbbing nipples and rut like a dog in heat against His erstwhile caress. He plunders me, He pushes me to the very edge...and then He releases the clamps from my nipples and stills His hand as the waves of pain wash over my features.

Blackness. Total now, and for a moment the pain subsides.

Then I feel His lips close about my tender tits, suckling, drawing them into the warmth of His mouth, and I begin to flow once more.

My inner thighs are slick with my response by now. I can feel it oozing undiminished in warm trickles along my skin.

[Touch me...touch me] I beg in the dim silence of my mind...and He does. His fingers plunge deep inside now, and I ride them with an urgency I have never felt before. So close...so close! If only He would touch my clit, if only...

His thumb begins a maddening dance about my swollen bud, teasing, tormenting until I am beside myself. Then, just as I can bear it no longer, my belly contracting for the inevitable explosion I so crave...He stops!

I moan in agony, frustration my soul companion in the darkness. Quickly He removes the blindfold, and I see Him poised, crop in hand, for a new phase in my education.

He wastes not a minute, but levying a rapid underhand swing He lashes out at my inner thighs, first left and then right, causing my cringing flesh to tremble in its wake.

I cry out against the gag, and immediately it is removed. He wants to hear me. I understand. Could I help but do less?

Again He strikes, unmoved by my pleas as they rake His ears. They are not 'safe words'. They will not bring me succor.

He flicks my nipples now, those swollen, tender buds that have borne so much this night, and that now offer themselves in obscene relief to meet the onslaught.

Long trails of salty tears run freely down my cheeks.

[Compassion]

And yet my "safe word" remains buried inside.

Finally, He drops the crop to the floor and strides from the room, His passion spent for the moment. I stay, as I must, bound to the beams, wondering how long I will remain there until His return, and what that will ultimately entail.

Finally the door opens, and the woman from upstairs enters. She crosses to me and examines the darkening lash marks between my thighs.