Sarah's Journey into Submission

When the box was empty, Mrs. Lucy came over with the things I was to wear. I slipped out of my cheerleader uniform, and it was replace with a thick leather belt that was buckled tightly around my waist. There was no crotch strap with this one, only rings at the sides. Leather straps were buckled around my wrists and ankles and I was collared as well.
Everything else, all my tender places, were left bare, and she led me over to where a bolster was. "Bend over."

I was helpless in a matter of seconds. She clipped my wrists and ankles to the struts of the frame. My belt was snugged down until my spine arched. My legs were spread and pulled forward. My hands pointed at the floor. My chin rested in the little hollow that had been provided for it, tilting my head up. My breasts protruded through two holes in the top surface of the bench. Even though I was belly down, my nipples would still be available. The frame was designed to thrust my ass out and open it. The skin on my buttocks and thighs was stretched tight. I could wiggle a little, but I wasn't going anywhere.

On the wall to my left, a row of implements dangled from hooks -– paddles, whips, canes, leather straps. The table on my right held the instruments I had laid out only moments ago. I could see my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors that dominated each wall, my face flushed and slightly puffy from being lower than the rest of me, the twin moons of my ass rising behind. The girl in the glass bit her lip as she surveyed the array around me.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was like sitting in a dentist's chair with a paper bib around my neck, waiting for the doctor to arrive and make small talk while he hurt me. I wondered again at the foolishness that brought me here.

The words brought me back to reality. "Would you like to enjoy her right away, or warm her up first?" asked my Mistress.

Mr. Munroe chuckled. "I wouldn't think of depriving her of the full experience," he said. "Anyways, I know that you are itching to hear her scream and beg for it."

His cool fingers stroked my taut skin. "I see that you have a lot of area to work with. I hope your Mistress don't take too long." He patted my well-toned and full bottom, now a blank canvas, waiting for the artist to begin a portrait of pain. Her palette would be shades of red.

Mrs. Lucy moved in front of me and stood looking at the closet wall, choosing her weapon. "We'll start with a paddle, heat her up first."

The paddle was wood. I could hear it bump the wall as she lifted it from its hook. I looked straight ahead as she moved behind me, my eyes comically wide with fear.

It sounded like a gunshot, and my first sensation was the thump of impact The sting followed. She struck again, on the other cheek, delivering another bright flare of stinging agony. I was too proud to let them see how much it hurt. I clenched my teeth and let the air hiss out of me.

"She can really take it!"

"I'm going easy until she gets more into the mood," Mrs. Lucy explained. "She will be signing soon."

Her comment was for my benefit, of course. She wanted me to know that courage was useless here. Intense as it was, this paddling was only a prologue. After all, she had done the same thing before she took my ass herself the first time, and I resigned myself to the same fate as before.

I stared at the mirror, seeing the outrage on my face. Anger is always my first reaction to a beating, even when I know I deserved it. All my training hadn't banished that defensive reflex. I surged against my bonds in a futile effort to cover myself, fight back, rise up and run.

The bench squeaked as a shifted and squirmed. Horror was creeping into my face, the certainty that I would be unable to bear this. My heart would explode. My lungs would collapse. I would spontaneously combust. My mouth was a frozen rictus.

Lust rescued me. It always does. The steady popping impacts still scorched me, but the pain became bearable as the warm crept into my loins. Mrs. Lucy sensed the change, and paused to toy with my puss. I strove to impale myself on her fingers and the result was a shifting of my hips, a flexing of my knees and elbows, a lot of straining and frustrated gasping.

"Poor little puss," she taunted. "does it want something?"

"Permission to cum?"

She laughed. "Not freedom?" she asked. "How about a squad of policemen? Cab fare homes?"

She was offering me another chance to end this, simultaneously reminding me of my options and narrowing the choices with deft fingers. She knew I couldn't refuse the pleasure, no matter how frightened I was of the ordeals that were its price. Another smack on the ass followed when I didn't answer right away.

"Changing your mind?" she asked.

"I thought it was too late for that, Mistress." There was an edge to my voice, the spirit she couldn't quite smother.

She shook her head. "You have only to say the word, and it will all be over."

"No Mistress," I murmured.

The paddle fell again, hard. I yelped.

"I can't hear you!"

I wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, so I shouted out the first thing to enter my head. "Thank-you, Mistress. May I have another?"

She gave me another, and another, and still more, until the eyes staring from the mirror were wide with shock and gleaming with tears.

Her hand found my puss again, stoking the fire below even as the paddle continued to fan the fire above. "Permission to cum, Mistress!"

"It's much too soon for that," she mocked. "Ask me for something else." She used the paddle to put a period on the end of each sentence.

"May I pleasure you, Mistress?"

"Oh ho!" she guffawed, "You would like that, wouldn't you? We could take a break, share a bit of wine. Maybe I would be sleepy afterwards and less inclined to finish this." She returned the paddle for its place on the wall and took down a taws.

"Too much paddling will just make her numb. I need to use something a bit more extreme. Mr. Munroe, perhaps you would like to use her mouth before her ass?" She ran her fingers gently though my hair. I turned my head as much as I could, and managed to kiss her wrist.

"Ask permission to suck his cock."

I asked. I was very sincere. I had slipped into a state of terrified bliss, prepared to endure any trial if I might be allowed to pleasure my evil Gods.

Awareness of them both faded as a metal O-ring gag was pressed between my teeth and strapped around the back of my head, to keep my mouth open. My world narrowed to a sharp point of focus as the cock came into view, an organ that made me catch my breath with sudden alarm. It was much bigger than my Mistress' strap-on; it was circumcised, and the head was large and red, like a ripe plum. The shaft tapered, thickening toward the root.

"I would call that hesitation," Mrs. Lucy noted from behind me, punctuated her remark with a few harder slaps to my ass.

I slurped it in, running my tongue around the head and down the shaft. Gradually, I took more and more of the cock into my mouth, Mr. Munroe's hand holding the back of my neck as he finally pushed it all the way. The penetration was swift, I retched, and the pressure of his cock against the back of my throat almost brought tears to my eyes (or was that from the spanking? I couldn't tell).

I swallowed repeatedly, massaging the shaft and head of the cock with my mouth and throat muscles and this went on for several minutes, with not a word spoken between anyone.

"Look at me," he growled.

Lucy's rhythm was steady by then; down from my waist where the skin was close to the bone; over the sweet spots, thicker flesh that rode the sting like a lover's tongue; my thighs, stretched until the tendons and, tan and tempting flesh quivering between the knees I could not close.

When the tail of the strap was clicking against my knee, she moved to the other side and traveled up. Her aim was incredible. The way it felt, each new stroke half lapped the one before, so that the burn was a slow wave washing over me.

Several shots came from above, aimed into the crack. She used less strength when she worked my pussy, but nothing was spared, even my heaving breasts bore the brunt of the punishment.

By this time, I was more or less hysterical, blubbering incoherently from around the cock in my mouth. Like most men, he wanted me to look up into his eyes as he fucked my mouth, and when I risked a glanced at the mirror, the face before me was daunting. My eyes were wide and distant. My cheeks were glazed by tears I could not wipe away or check. I was barking out hoarse, helpless cries each time the strap whistled in.

I jerked as the lash laid small red stripes across my tender flesh and the cock worked itself in and out of my throat. Mrs. Lucy didn't strike me as hard as she could have, but pain was real, and the lashes were leaving red marks. My ass, thighs and calves soon bore criss-cross red stripes as I gulped and jerked on the cock, swallowing it down into my throat like it was the most natural thing I could do.

Then I felt her hands on my blazing buns. Her fingers seemed cool by contrast, but I was sensitive, and even her tough scraped me like sandpaper. I think I could feel her fingerprints.

"I believe her temperature is about right," she crooned, leaning over me to speak into my ear.

"And not a moment too soon," Mr. Munroe chuckled as he withdrew his cock from my mouth and they switched places. I was hoo-hooing, not yet even fully aware that the thrashing had stopped, but I sensed her moving around me, until I could see her hang the taws on the wall and return to face me.

"Look into my eyes," she said, squatting down in front of me and removing the ring gag. "Don't close them. I want to read every emotion that you feel when it happens."

I heard a ripping sound behind me as he opened a condom.

"I said look at me," she murmured, stirring me back to reality.

A pair of thumbs slipped between my cheeks as he gripped me, prying me open. I let all the air out of my lungs and slumped. I learned before that total relaxation was my only defense.

"Ask for it."

"Please, Sir, I want your cock in my ass, Sir."

"Since you insist."

Thick! I was quickly aware that I was being filled as I had never been before. Yet the pain was bearable. I had been prepared for this; otherwise he would have injured me.

He oozed in slowly, letting me feel his length. The first flash of pain was fading now. I could loosen up enough to enjoy the soft -– hardness of him, the heat, so different from the plastic and steel and rubber that had dilated me. I could feel our shared pulse.

"You want some more?" he said behind me.

I nodded.

"Ask for it."

"Please, Sir, can I have some more of your cock in my ass, Sir?"

It was another pivotal moment, that final push and that final surrender. This was ritual degradation, being painfully, deeply fucked up the ass while my Mistress watched and I begged for it. My wail was inspired more by emotional release than pain.

"You little slut," she whispered into my ear. "That looks like pleasure in your face."

I could only "Ooohh!" and "Ahhh!" until at last he drove his taming point home and I felt his pubic hair tickling me, his balls thumping my puss.

"Well, you have a cock in your ass." He asked.

"Thank, you Sir."

"How does that feel?" my Mistress asked.

"Different, Ma'am."

"But it's not bad," she said in reply. "Because you have that fuck me look on your face."

And he reversed. My tight channel seemed to close up behind his retreat, so that the next thrust, coming with more speed and energy, caught me unprepared. I yelped, and yelped again as he grasped my hips and began a steady rhythm.

"UUGH! UGGHH! UUUGH!"

Mrs. Lucy was delirious with pleasure, seeing the parade of shock and humiliation cross my face as it had before when she took me herself. "Thank him." Her voice was raspy, as it had been before. "Tell him how much you love it."

I had been through this before with her, and knew my lines well. "Thank-you Master!" It came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I love how your big cock feels in my tight little hole!"

Mrs. Lucy called it verbal crawling. The general idea was to debase myself, ask for the very thing I most feared, and flatter my Master or Mistress. She had taught me well. Even on the verge of hysteria, I wallowed and begged for more.

"Please fuck me hard and deep, Master!"

Mrs. Lucy was swimming in and out of focus, drifting away. The trestle creaked steadily. Reamed, cored, I could feel him where my belly met the bolster under my hips, pressing against the walls of my vagina. It wakened my hungry clit. I could see the blurred white of Mrs. Lucy' grin. She could tell that I was beginning to quicken. "Go ahead," she nodded.

It was all I needed. A moment later, I clenched my fists and gasped out an orgasm. Mr. Munroe gasped too, feeling my grip on him go right as I spasmed. "So hot!" he moaned.

I paid for my moment of pleasure. He never paused in his thrusting. My orgasm finished, I melted into the trestle and endured while he pounded away. He paused now and then, when he felt his own climax approaching, and remained deep in me. As he caught his breath, I could feel his sweat drip onto my back. He massaged my scorched bottom, re-awakening the stings of my welts. When he was rested, I would feel him swell again. "Beg for it."

Even as I recited my litany, I could feel my own heat began to build again, field by anticipation, and I only had to frame the question in my eyes to draw a knowing smile and an indulgent nod from my spellbound Mistress.

"You fuck me so good, Master! Please do it again!" I meant every word of it. That's how debauched I had become.

He thrust deep and fast, while I warbled a riding note. Then he stopped suddenly, buried to the hilt inside me, and I could feel his shaft pulsing as he came. It was enough to make me soar over the edge for a third time, and with a nod from my Mistress I cried out again as my ass tightened around his cock and I milked every last drop from him.

He unsheathed himself, and I could feel my anus gape and pucker, as though silently begging him to return. I rested, gulping air like a winded sprinter. When my vision cleared, my Mistress was there, "Was it good for you too?" she asked ironically.

"Yes Mistress," I confessed. "Thank-you Mistress."

She put a soda straw in a wineglass and held it for me while I sipped. It burned my raw throat, but it was warm in my belly.

A little later on, Mrs. Lucy returned to move a barstool so that it was positioned under my chin. She unhooked my collar from the trestle and lifted by head gently by my hair. With firm hand on my nape reminded me that I had work to do, her voice was husky. "Make it good."

Behind me, I felt an erection nuzzle the entrance to my anus. I opened for it.

He lacked the finesse I had been treated to the first time and with the same zeal as before, moved into place. I was used now, no need for gentleness anymore. His cock was a relentless pistol, and I moaned into the crotch before me. They came at the same time and I rocked between her bucking hips and his pounding cock, gasping as the force of his thrusts drove the air out of me and the steaming puff smothered me.

A little later on, I was still there when I felt an already rampant cock appear before me. "Make it hard," he said. I opened my mouth and took the entire chocking length of him, while my Mistress took my puss from behind.

Her strap on was a battering ram inside pussy, a bruising assault that had me barking each time she slammed it home. She would withdraw completely sometimes, then punch back in deep.

Awareness became confused for me. She played patty cake on my ass as he jabbed my throat with his cock, all the while his large hands callously massaging my plump breasts. I whined and shrieked as she ploughed her cock home inside me from behind and him from the front, while I gulped on the cock that two orgasms had failed to satisfy. I churned my hips from side to side, and she rotated his cock inside me, skewering me.

My whining was soon silenced, however, as his discharge violated my pretty mouth. For a while, I was forced to swallow, then he removed his penis, only to let it spray the rest of his discharge onto my outstretched tongue. The cum slowly poured over my lips and cheeks as I was coated with the substance.

It was all too much. Maybe it was oxygen deprivation, Mr. Munroe's free hand that played with my clit as he pummelled my ass. Maybe it was the exhaustions. Whatever the cause, the room closed up like a telescope and everything went back.

CHAPTER 16

I was roasting on the Devil's Fork, spitted like a hot dog at a cookout. I was held over the fire and the fork was huge and hot in my anus. My ass and thighs, the part of me nearest the flame, sizzled and blistered. I struggled with immovable arms and legs, unable to escape this impalement and drop into the purifying flames below. The smoke burned my streaming eyes and nose. I lifted my head, seeking air.

The chain connecting my collar to the trestle snubbed taut.

"Just the two of us now." said Mrs. Lucy.

I shook my head, banishing the nightmare, and traded it with another. She wasn't entirely naked; the large pink dildo was still strapped around her waist and thighs, leaving her crotch open. The dildo was glistening with a mixture of lubricant and my own juices, and the taws was dangling from her fist. Under other circumstances, I might have found the sight comical.

I became aware of fresh pains filtering up through the old. My nipples burned. Glancing down, I saw a small weight, like a fisherman's line sinker swinging below the trestle. My nipples had been clipped and joined weight a weighted chain to increase the tension. Shifting my hips, I felt the pull of more weight dangling from my clipped labia. The pain in my bowels was too acute to be left over from the sodomy I had just endured. I had been stuffed with the inflating plug. She had pumped it up until my distended hold protested. It felt like a balloon in my bowels.

"Please!" I whimpered. "I'm so sore. No more. Please!"

She held up a penis gag. "Open wide, you simpering slut." I hadn't used the safe word after all, hadn't truly been asking to be freed from my situation.

While I choked on the thick erection in my mouth, she worked my pussy thoroughly and deeply with the strap on. Her fingers finding my clit and forcing me to lose control of my vaginal muscles and weakening my already depleted resistance, I surged upward as it advanced and she pushed hard, inching it slowly and deeply into my tight pussy.

Then, with a deep, heavy "UUUUUUUUUGHHH!" my hips collapsed to the trestle as the implement reached its deepest insertion. She pulled the vibrator back hard and the tightness caused it to come back slowly. Then, with an intense effort she forced it back in, then back out, then back in. Over and over she plunged it in and out of my defenseless vagina. Like a piston, the vibrator pumped me higher and higher towards uncontrollable sexual devastation.

I wasn't given permission to cum.

She took the clamps off eventually, but only so that the multi-thonged cat she was using at the time could lap my breasts and pussy unimpeded. She removed the plug as well, deflating it and ripping it out to make room for the dildo that ploughed my distended orifice.