tagBDSMPain for Rent

Pain for Rent

byTerry288©

"Janet, are you all right? What happened to you?"

Sweet Jesus, I over slept. I'm still chained to the headboard.

"I'll call the police."

Where's that damn key? Oh yeah, move the tape.

"The phone won't work."

Found it. Come on fingers; don't drop it, make it work. "I'll get my cell."

Where's the end of the tape? This is going to hurt.

"Hang on, Honey."

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Pull the panties out quickly. Don't worry about the tape.

"Stop Joe! I'm all right. Come here, sit down, I'll explain."

He's shaking and I'm the one lying here naked. Admittedly, I'm something of a sight, handcuffed to our brass headboard. It's not every day your average Joe comes home and finds his domestic diva 'au-natural' chained to the bed. This is will take a lot of explaining.

I began with the want ad in the personals. We've all seen them. The "SWM/F ISO kinky mate with their own chicken," kind of things. (Send pictures of chicken?) At first, I didn't know what the author of this particular advertisement thought he would find. As it turned out, that was Mistake Number One – I found him. It wasn't immediate; in fact, I didn't even read the entire ad the first couple of weeks I saw it in the newspaper. But, like a moth to flame, eventually I did read it. I started filling in the blanks and attributing my feelings to the advertisement's author. Eventually, I took it personally and replied to the box number.

Mistake Number Two was assuming that I was the only person to take the bait; that this would be one-on-one. I felt these odds were fair, or at least even, given the caliber of domestic goddess with whom he would be dealing with. We talked on the telephone and eventually met at a White Castle. That should have also been a clue, but I wasn't processing all the data available to me. A month after our first conversation, the ad was still appearing in the personals and I wasn't paying it the attention it deserved.

A coup d'état between karma and fate that lead to my downfall. It's not my fault that my hands are tie-wrapped together, above my head, around this four-inch tree trunk. The straps are half an inch wide and have a steady bite into my wrists; any movement is rewarded with a sharp nip at my skin. I can't see or feel if there is a release mechanism. In fact, it's getting hard to just feel my fingers.

My boobs have a bluish hue within the rubber bands circling their bases. They sway with each breath I take and that's arousing. Breasts are among my best body parts, if I do say so myself. They arrived in the sixth grade, reached full blossom by junior high, and got me lots of attention all through high school. I usually wear a 34B, sometimes C, depending on the time of the month. I'm retaining fluids at the moment and could use the support of a bra. My nipples are supporting lead fishing weights with steel leaders noosed around the tits. The wind blows and I shiver, that shaking the rotten contraptions. Pain shoots through my chest. Okay. Basically, I like this part, but I've been like this for a good twenty minutes.

I'd shaved my pussy before our 'date'. That was Mistake Number Three. Since we'd not discussed that, I'm sure he inferred that I have more experience in this field than I do. My reward is a dildo in my asshole keeping company with the beer bottle shoved up my cunt. My pussy pals will no doubt remain in place by virtue of the duct tape coating my hips. Some fluids are seeping down my legs, and the flies are becoming bothersome. My knees are burying themselves in the mulch at the base of this tree and ants are crawling up stream looking for the picnic. My ankles are bungee corded together; also behind this tree and pulled up off the ground forcing my back to arch.

I can just barely see where we parked our cars, so I know he's still here somewhere, but I can't see him at the moment. I can hear birds and the river in the distance, but the sun is going to set soon. The colors are shifting toward reds and oranges and it's starting to feel damp. I try to shift my position, All that does is nip my wrists, shaking my arms and chest, which works its way around to my tits for another nibble. My crotch companions are definitely adding to my current state of arousal, but a vibrator would be a big help.

"Did you miss me?"

"Hey fella, I'm starting to hurt. My wrists are really tight."

"Glad to hear it. Open wide."

With that, he pulls my hair, tilting my head back, and pushes a tennis ball into my mouth. He wraps my head with more duct tape until the only thing not covered with the sticky stuff is my nose. He pulls on the lead weights and I scream, sort of. I mean I yelled for all I was worth, but I'm quite sure we're the only people who heard it. It is really hard to scream when you have only your nose with which to get air. When he got tired of pulling the weights, he started slapping me. First to the face, then he worked his way down to my cunt. He spent a lot of time on my breasts. Left, right, up, down, anything to make the weights bounce and me scream.

I'd been screaming for five minutes maybe more, when he stopped. At first I wasn't sure why, then I heard someone approaching.

"Greetings."

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic."

"No problem, we got a late start here too."

"How far are you?"

"Just warmed her up a bit, haven't used the instruments yet."

"Well don't let me interrupt you. I'll set up and just watch for a while."

"Feel free to join in if you see something that interests you."

"Okay."

He started slapping me all over again, as if nothing had happened. Somewhere during this beating, the wire nooses on my nipples were removed and replaced by rope on my neck and face. My head is now tied to the tree and it's harder to breathe. When he put his fingers over the openings of my nose, I really started bucking. They wrapped rope around my elbows and knees and repeated the test. They cinched all the ropes tighter and then pulled the beer bottle from my pussy. Something long and cold was shoved in next, and then they wedged it into the ground to keep me impaled on it.

Clamps chomped into my tits and clit. Then the pole up in my pussy caught on fire, the same time my tits screamed bloody murder. I thrashed against the tree and tried to fill my lungs with air to scream, but nothing would work. I can't tell you how many times they did this to me. I lost count somewhere around twenty, consciousness a good deal later. I am quite sure that was the goal; because when I came to, I'd been moved.

I'm now face down on a tile floor, smells new. I'm still or again gagged and blindfolded. My elbows are touching and my hands are taped shut and together behind my back. I can move my feet, but not my knees. There is something big in my pussy and I can't feel my breasts.

"Glad to see you're back with us."

I feel my wrists being lifted upwards as a pulley squeaks somewhere above me. He doesn't stop pulling until I'm standing on the points my knees, which are held about two feet apart by something tied to my thighs. My shoulders burn from the forced range of motion and strain.

"I'm putting a pan under your crotch. Do your toilet duties. You have five minutes." He must be kidding. I squeezed for all I was worth, but it is really difficult, when you have something akin to a baseball bat shoved in your cunt. Some minutes later, I peed but nothing solid would come. I'm now all wet down below and I can smell my acrid discharge.

"Are you hungry?"

I was afraid to answer, thinking that he would make me drink my urine. So, I shook my head no, figuring I'd be okay for a while.

"Bite down on your gag as hard as you can."

Apparently, I didn't respond in the manner he expected because he started slapping my face; hard, until I eventually met his expectations.

"Now, ease up a little bit."

I did and was greeted with water flowing from my gag. It's hard to swallow and clinch your teeth at the same time. It gets even harder if you let in too much water, and nearly impossible when someone slaps you. My tits came back with a bolt of electricity from somewhere and I almost drown. I was spitting water from my nose and trying to breathe all at the same time.

The next blast of fire was to my butt cheek, quickly followed by hits to the souls of my feet. Those weren't quite as bad, mainly because I was expecting them. The one to my cunt hurt badly, twice in fact. Once at the site and then my knees when I landed back on the floor. That jolt also hurt my shoulders. I was 'sipping' water for most of the next fifteen minutes and my jaws were cramping severely.

"I stopped the water. You can relax now."

Easy for him to say. The only things that don't hurt now are my once again nonexistent boobs. And, the beating is starting again. Just for the sake of variety I suppose, he's starting at my feet and working his way up. He's using a stick of some kind and it really stings, but not much of a burn afterwards.

Actually, it depends on what he hits as to whether it burns. When he got to my clit, it started a fire in me that consumed my backbone and exploded in my head. Meltdown took several minutes with sweat running down my body in rivulets from my armpits and under my breasts. Wind whistles in and out of my nose, as my chest heaves up and down trying to force air into my lungs. At one point I humped whatever it was in my cunt so hard my knees came off the floor again. That sent another jolt through my shoulders and crashed my knees into the floor once more. I'd reached the end. I couldn't hold my head up anymore. He took mercy on me and laid me down on the floor. As I was drifted away on my river of endorphin-laced sweat, I hear others in the room. I don't care at this moment as sweet blackness overtakes me.

Lightening flashes through me and I hear giggling. Female noises nearby, somebody is being tickled. I'm not ticklish anywhere that I know of. My first husband broke it, and I'm glad he did. My boob is on fire! My wrists are chained to my feet and the ever-present something is still in my pussy. My other boob just caught fire. My eyes fly open and I can see; not well, but light is flooding into my head. Giggle bitch is holding a cattle prod to my right nipple. Another explosion of fire and my whole body seems to levitate right off the floor. For my next trick, I'm going to decapitate giggle bitch.

Just then, my left boob erupts again, as fire belches from her wand. I roll away from her and she stabs me in the back. Right between the shoulder blades and my arms nearly tear themselves from their sockets. Her next zap goes toward the butt; and she hits the interconnecting chain on the handcuffs getting both arms as well.

At least the gag keeps me from biting my tongue. Giggle bitch struts around in front of me, bends down, and begins removing my gag saying,

"Be a good girl and I'll put away the cattle prod."

I won't have to exfoliate for a month. Before I can spit out the tennis ball, she is moving her clit toward my nose. Guess what good girls do next? Good girls get help removing tennis balls from their oral cavity, or all giggle bitch gets is a wet fuzzy. After prying the orb from my face, they handcuff my elbows together and rope the connecting links to my throat. At first, it wasn't immediately clear to me why. But when my face started plowing her ditch, I learned real quick. One tug and my head popped up and out if she even suspected I had bared my teeth. My tongue hurt when I was finished; which I might add, was after two women's clits, a practice dildo and one full size male prick complete with sperm.

A canvas sack was then pulled over my head, trapping all the fluids on my face inside next to my nose. It was tied tightly about the neck, then something wrapped around and into my mouth, forcing it open. I can breathe through holes somewhere near my nose, but hearing is distant and of course, vision is once again gone. I'm dragged face down across the floor by my knees. The shackle on my left foot is released, and my pussy crashes into something big and hard. My ankle is once again chained, and both of my feet are pulled up, until my hips are off the floor. I'm now double handcuffed behind the back at the wrists and elbows and resting on my boobs. It hurts to put my head forward and on the floor, but gives my chest some measure of relief. Something is attached to the top of the hood on my head and pulled back. No more relief for the chest, it was too good to last anyway.

Someone has started drumming on my breasts. It's not painful right now, but they keep hitting the same spot and it's going to add up. After a few minutes, it stops and they pull up my head until my tits come off the floor. Then they release my head and I come crashing down on my chest. Smashing my tits against the floor and I hear giggle bitch again. She is really getting on my nerves.

I signed up - rented pain, if you will - for this weekend with the expressed understanding that it would be with the guy I had interviewed. If I wanted to be abused by a female, I'd call my mother. I'm thinking when this is over, I will get a refund or reimbursed with another weekend. Come to think of it, I'm due another two orgasms. Before I can finish my mental memo, I'm pushed up against the pole that trapped my feet. My neck is then tied to the pole. I'm half choking when I feel something wet against my clit and hear a vibrator's familiar buzz coming from somewhere near my pussy.

Good pussy, wet, warm, throbbing bundles of nerves in that slit right up the middle of my crotch. Someone pulled my filling out and the emptiness feels enormous. Fingers are moving down my stomach, groping for the spots that ignite my passion, so close. So very close. I feel the muscles in my groin grabbing at her fingers. It has to be the giggle bitch, only another woman would know where to touch, how to touch. I feel my back arching. I'm pushing out my breasts, aching for contact or stimulation of any kind. Naughty fingers finally meet my warm and wet pussy. My stomach muscles knot as I spasm on her digits. I can't stop grinding against her fingers in my cunt, humping her knuckles trying to increase the friction any way I can. Finally, it all crashes together, igniting one bright flame that burns me from cunt to cranium. Even my hair feels it as my eyes roll up into their sockets, unseen under the hood. I can't breathe. I'm going to die. A deep dark hole opens and swallows me.

I know this is bitchy, but they still owe me one more orgasm. My throat hurts and so do my knees. I would guess it to be Saturday evening. That would mean either I'm going to be tied up for another twenty-four hours or I'll be short changed a day. I'm now wearing clothes. No bra or panties, feels like sweats or maybe a jump suit. My arms are strapped above my head to this table I'm on and my legs are crossed and somehow secured. No gag or blindfold for the moment. Actually, I'm quite comfortable. I hesitate to move, alerting them to my presence.

"Ouch!" Someone just hit me, slapped me to be precise.

"Time to wake up, sleepy head. It's Sunday morning in the dungeon, and we've got body cavities to explore."

"Water - food - toilet."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"Abracadabra in this harem, Honey."

That came from a gigantic black woman with a very thin mustache. She disconnected the straps on my arms, lifted me up, spun me around, and handcuffed me behind the back. She put another pair on my elbows then corded them up to my neck. Probably was her the first time as well.

"Easier to control you this way."

Like she needed help. She could break me in two if provoked. Then she'd have meal-sized portions. Visions of my butt on a spit; rotating above a charcoal pit, killed my breakfast plans. Bowel movements helped. Actually, the Amazon helped; she wiped my bottom since I couldn't quite reach it. She didn't want to remove the manacles. She opened a bottled water, put it in my mouth, and carried me out to my car. The remainder of the water was taken from me when I was put in the trunk. It was a short ride.

She parked in our garage and lifted me from the trunk. She wrapped her arms around my chest and hauled me into the kitchen/dinning room. She then set me down in a chair.

"Where do you play with yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you're alone and want to tie yourself up, where do you do it?"

"The bedroom or basement, depending."

"Depending on what?"

"How much time I have."

"Okay, the basement it is then. Where's the door?"

"Second door on the left, down the hallway."

"Thank you. Where do you keep your toys?"

"The hall linen closet, in a makeup bag."

As we head for the basement, she curtseys at the closet and grabs the bag without setting me down. I was worried about the stairs, but she didn't need the handrails. She bounced my stomach on her shoulder but not too hard.

"Where do you do it?"

"The pole near the sump pump, by the window with the curtains."

By the time she set me down next to the pole, I had a very good idea where this was going. Lots of wet -dreams had stained the concrete in this corner of the basement and I was ready.

She dismembered my clothes. When she's done jerking me around, I'm ready for it. Bodice-ripper paperback books have nothing on the real thing, especially when you're manacled by a maniac. My tits are standing up so hard that they hurt. Good hurt, crinkled cunt, soaked pussy kind of hurt. Not the gentle, looking for a stud-muffin, 'kind'. This is the "ankles behind your ears, pussy pounding, rip you apart" 'kind'.

I watched her intently, cataloging every detail to relive in fantasies later. She removed the shackles from my ankles, crossed my legs, and bound them together with a huge length of rope. Then the handcuffs came off my elbows and wrists along with the cord around my neck.

"Do you prefer your hands behind or above your head when cumming?"

I always disliked being stretched, so I said,

"Behind my back." Then it occurred to me, she might do the exact opposite. "As you wish."

She lifted me up, faced me toward the steel support pole, and folded me in half. She then pulled my arms back and handcuffed my wrists on the far side of the pole. The top of my head is now pushing against the floor, while the back of my neck is against the pole. I try shuffling my knees to relieve some of the pressure on my shoulders but nothing much helps.

She starts loosely wrapping rope around my trunk, toward my hips and I'm thinking this isn't their style. Everything so far has been "oh my gawd I didn't think it could get that tight" or worse and I'd survived. This will be a piece of cake after I figure out where to put my hands and feet. She loops a long piece of rope over the floor joist, around the pole and back down, brings both strands to the coils at my hips. Then she passes the rope through the coils at my hips and back up to the top of the pole. She bisects the loop against the pole and starts pulling down. My hips start moving up. Before long, my knees are off the ground and I'm standing on my head. This hurts; a whole lot, and I tell her so.

"I believe you," Was all she said, while continuing to slowly pull on the rope.

What a bitch, she was deliberately grinding my head against the concrete. If I get a bald spot from this, I'm going to sue. That's not exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking, more along the lines of plucking her cunt hairs out one at a time when I get free. I realize that would probably require the help of several big men to hold her down; but I wasn't planning, just 'emoting'. Actually, it didn't take long to get used to it, the less I squirmed the better it was. She didn't stop pulling until my head was about a foot off the floor.

I hadn't really experimented with being upside down before. It's hard to do by yourself. One can hang their head over the side of the bed, but it's not the same. This was pretty much ok. The rope at my hips was digging in a bit but certainly sustainable for the short term. My arms flopped away from the pole behind my back and my knees were bobbing around in the air above me.

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byTerry288© 0 comments/ 32697 views/ 2 favorites

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