I awakened to the wonderfully pleasant sensation of my lover's warm hand around my cock--stroking, pulling, squeezing. Eyes still closed, I slowly came to consciousness, luxuriating in her massage, feeling the blood rush to my genitals and my cock engorge. I spread my legs wide, let my jaw go slack and undulated my hips in time with her ministrations.
"Good morning, Darling," she said, her voice a soft, throaty whisper.
I opened my eyes and looked at her, noticing in the half-light a sweet but evil smile on her lovely face. I smiled as well and was about to return the greeting when she suddenly raked her nails along the length of my rigid meat. She then sank them--hard--into the tender flesh of my shaft and twisted, raising my hips off the bed and dragging a long, plaintive moan from deep within me.
"Mmmmmm...nice," she breathed. "I'd like to hear more of that."
She then resumed her gentle stroking and cuddled close, resting her head on my shoulder.
"You know what I'm going to do to you this morning, don't you?" she asked.
I closed my eyes, thought a few seconds, then nodded. It had been more than a week since I'd suffered for her and it was about time I pleased her again.
"Look at the Chair," she ordered.
I turned my head toward the side of the room and heard the quiet sound of a light switch. There against the wall, bathed in the soft glow of an overhead lamp, was the Chair. A simple, sturdy device built of heavy black timbers, it looked menacing, almost macabre. It sported leather straps for the victim's arms, wrists, legs and ankles and was fitted with a large black dildo on which he'd be impaled. Most threatening, however, were the two brass electrodes that hung from its side. Once the victim was secured in the Chair, his ass filled with the dildo, those electrodes would be clamped about his balls and the head of his cock and in turn connected to a devilishly painful electrical shocking device. The switch would then be thrown and he'd "fry"--receiving four-second jolts at four-second intervals--until his Mistress had decided he'd had enough.
I gazed at the Chair, an odd combination of fear and longing welling up within me. I knew that soon I'd be sitting there, moaning and screaming in agony as I helplessly suffered. I was afraid but I was also sluttishly attracted to the prospect. I wanted it.
My lover was well aware of this, for I'd explained to her months before, when we were just getting to know each other, that every so often I needed to endure pain...erotic pain...genital pain. I'd told her that I frequently needed to step out of my normal, dominant role and offer up my rigid cock and tender, vulnerable balls for torture. Why? I hadn't a clue. I did know, however, that for me it was a basic need, one I'd attempted to regularly satisfy since I'd been in my teens.
At first she'd balked, explaining that she loved me and couldn't possibly hurt me. After a short while, though, and after a number of heart-to-heart talks, she'd come to understand how important genitorture was to me and she'd agreed to try it. Once she got started, she began to enjoy the role of the tormentress and before long was initiating the sessions herself on at least a weekly basis. It was then that I'd built the Chair.
My lover threw back the covers. Rising to her knees, she quickly straddled my face.
"Eat!" she commanded, lowering her tartly fragrant pussy to my waiting mouth.
I immediately plunged my tongue inside her, relishing the strong, overnight flavor of her sex. I cleaned her well, tongue-fucking her for a while, then sliding my tongue back-and-forth between the delicate folds of her labia. At last I gently settled on the firm bud of her clit. I pressed it with my tongue and nudged it this way and that, trying my best to pleasure her.
She ground down on my mouth, taking everything it could give her, and soon began to make the delicious sounds of a woman approaching orgasm. Unexpectedly, though, she didn't climax. She was no doubt preoccupied, for while I'd been eating her, she'd been at work between my own legs, using a rough leather thong to bind my rock-hard cock and aching balls into a taut, throbbing package suitable for "frying". Her task complete, she raised herself from my face and got out of bed.
"Come on, Boy," she intoned, reaching down and pulling on my balls. "Time to play."
I complied, easing up from the bed and taking the few short steps to the Chair. I was hot and very ready so I moved purposefully, not wanting to let fear overcome me--not until I was strapped in and wired, when I'd have no choice but to suffer, and suffer well. I mounted the Chair and eased my ass down onto the well-greased dildo, feeling it slide into my body, invading me, taking me. I then parted my legs and offered myself to the bindings.
While she deftly secured me, I watched her--my partner, my sweetheart--with a mixture of lust, reverence, appreciation, anxiety and love. I saw her perfect breasts sway from side to side as she tightened the straps. I gazed hard at the cleft between her thighs as she attached the electrodes. I looked deep into her eyes as she shoved home a mouth-filling penis gag and buckled it in. At that moment I wanted more than anything in the world to make her happy.
She leaned close to me, kissed my cheek and whispered into my ear, "I know, Darling. I love you, too."
She then slowly backed away, caressing her body, massaging her breasts and tugging gently on her nipples. Without breaking eye contact, she lay back on the bed and slowly opened her legs. Slipping a finger between her labia, she looked intently at my face--and tripped the shocker switch.