Broken in Bondage

Her predicament is unenviable. Her blindfold hides her tears, but not her sobs. Her mouth is held wide open by a steel spider gag that grips her top and bottom rows of teeth, its metal circle painfully forcing her jaw into an obscenely gaping 'O'. Her moans of fear and discomfort are still clearly audible despite the gag, and adding to her humiliation and misery, drool is starting to drip down her lower lip onto her chest and between her naked breasts.

Her bondage is secure, but allows her a significant range of movement. She is suspended 2 feet off the ground against a cement wall. Her slender arms are tied together with rope at the wrists and attached, above her head, to an eyelet in the ceiling, pulling her hands and arms high above her. Her feet are pulled up, each ankle tied to the thigh of the same leg, bending her knees yoga style and giving her a strangely frog-like appearance at first glance as the soles of her feet touch each other just below her exposed pussy. Her thigh and ankle ropes are attached to rings in the wall behind her so that she is able to strain her thighs to relieve the pressure on her wrists, pushing her whole body up by levering against the ropes that also serve to keep her legs widely and lewdly separated unless she works hard to close them.

I started her out in this position when she was first delivered to me because it's so effective at breaking in new recruits. It simultaneously exhausts them, creates pain, and brings them rapidly to a position where they are forced to choose to orgasm in an unwanted and humiliating way. Sometimes it's even possible to get them to beg to be fucked with a vibrating dildo the first session, all without even having to ask them to comply. The real beauty of the system is that it starts out slow, but builds with an inevitable momentum.

My captive experiments with her predicament, realizing after a while that her wrists are beginning to hurt as the weight of her body hangs from them, the rope cutting them cruelly. She flexes her bound thighs, pushing the soles of her naked feet together as the muscles in her toned legs push her torso up, her squat thrust relieving the pressure on her wrists as her knees straighten slightly. As she grunts in effort, the space between her legs formed by her feet, knees and crotch slowly expands from a flattened diamond to a square shape. For a moment she feels better, the relief from pain in her wrists distracts her from the fact that her legs are already tiring, her thighs beginning to burn with the strain of holding her weight. Even in the least exhausting position her bondage allows, with her legs spread lewdly and her arms pulled high, pushing her breasts forward, she is only able to maintain a few minutes, and she slumps slowly, allowing her tender wrists to once again take the strain.

Her body is already beginning to sweat with the effort of shifting between the two positions, one painful, the other exhausting, and I take a moment to evaluate her. I know from her bio that she is a college student in her mid-20s, her shoulder length dark hair is echoed by a neatly trimmed bush between her legs that I make a mental note to remove. Her thighs look toned, but I notice her belly has a slight bulge, nothing serious, but certainly the beginnings of a muffin top that will need attention. Her breasts are her best asset, beautifully proportioned and pert, with large round gumdrops for nipples.

She is preoccupied with her predicament, and I focus her attention by twisting her left nipple suddenly with one hand, causing her to jump, simultaneously pulling herself up by her wrists and pushing with her thighs, struggling helplessly to avoid the sensation. She cries out in surprise and pain, her voice distorted by her gag. I make out the sounds of words 'please', 'stop', and 'help'.

"Sshh..." I whisper in her ear, keeping hold of her nipple. "Shh.. It will be easier on you if you stay quiet." I release her hardened nipple, in one deft movement attaching a small clamp connected to a silver chain, and taking hold of the other nipple as her body spasms in pain and shock, the pointed teeth of the clamp biting savagely at her tender bud.

Despite everything that will follow, these first few minutes are some of the most difficult for new recruits as they grapple with the fact that they are no longer in control of the most intimate parts of their bodies. I attach a second clamp, on the other end of the short chain, to her other nipple, and wait while her body writhes, struggles, and eventually calms, relaxing into the new sensations of pain, exhaustion bringing her to acceptance of her helplessness.

She's still mumbling, moaning and begging into her gag as I attach a light piece of slightly elastic line to the mid point of the chain linking her clamped nipples, and run it up to the eyelet in the ceiling, pulling it just tight enough for the cruel teeth of the clamps to tug relentlessly on the nipple clamps when she is resting on her thighs. The new sensation immediately causes her to tighten her leg muscles, lifting her body up a few inches once again, and releasing the tension on her nipples, although not the sharp pain of the clamps. I take the opportunity to tighten the string a half an inch, something she won't appreciate until she drops down again. For now though, she is pushing hard with her legs, straining to relieve the agonizing sensations on her engorged teats.

Perhaps realizing that her ability to support her body with her glutes is limited to a few precious minutes, she begins to try to communicate more lucidly, trying hard to be understood through the stainless steel gag forcing her mouth wide open. I hear several distinct words, 'please', 'stop', 'anything', and I reach behind her, loosening the ratchet mechanism that keeps her jaws propped just enough to allow her to speak more clearly.

"Thank you!" She cries out in a still distorted, but understandable voice. "Please stop this, I don't know who you are, I haven't seen you, and I won't press charges, just let me go, please. If you want money I can get it to you, just please, let me go." I say nothing, content to let her lead the conversation. I know the psychology of this situation well, and understand that having demands to resist and a captor to react to can be a powerful motivator to hold out longer. Leaving the captive in a state of ambiguity, not making any specific demands, and letting her lead the conversation leads to much faster capitulation as she will tend to rapidly burn through the options she has for bargaining without even being asked. As I watch her legs and abdomen begin to shake with exertion I predict that this young lady will be no exception.

She begins to relax her legs, undoubtably aware that as she does so the squat that keeps her body elevated becomes much more difficult to hold, and then suddenly she drops, taking her weight on her arms and wrists again as the chain tightens and tugs on the clamps on her nipples, pulling her breasts painfully upwards even as the burning in her thighs diminishes. She begins a fruitless process of wriggling and struggling to try to find a sweet spot that relives the pain in her breasts that is not exhausting for her legs, but she is not able to hold a half-squat, and collapses back down, trying desperately to push her breasts and upper body forward and up to relieve the agonizing tension on her delicate nipples.

She wriggles counter-productively, and begins to beg again. "Please, please stop, I'll do anything you want, just please stop - I can't bear it - please!" Perhaps feeling that her leg muscles have recovered sufficiently, she pushes again with her legs, straining to lift her body, releasing the tension on her nipples and simultaneously using her arms to try to pull herself up further.

This is an opportunity for escalation for me, and I bring a devilish new piece of equipment over to her. It consists of a long adjustable metal pole with a large, thick, slickly lubed dildo mounted on the end, and a Hitachi magic wand mounted at the base of the dildo. I screw the base of the pole into a mount-point below the girl, and position the dildo so that it sits just at the entrance to her sex.

She becomes aware of the intruder pressing lewdly at the lips of her most intimate area, and wriggles desperately to try to find a way to relieve the fatigue in her muscles without dropping onto the dildo positioned to violate her so casually. She struggles with every muscle in her torso arms and legs to move her crotch away from the dido, frantically thrashing within the few inches of awkward movement her bondage allows.

I understand that this situation is designed to be especially degrading to the victim because she feels on some level that she is in control of her own violation. Younger women are particularly vulnerable to this implicit suggestion, their social conditioning and insecurity tending to draw them to explanations that emphasize their own failings. She will soon exhaust herself, and be forced, though her body's inability to remain elevated, to lower herself onto the dildo, despite her desperate desire not to.

Sensing that she is about to give up her struggle to keep her body in the exhausting raised position I cup her hips in my hands, guiding her gently as I move the dildo so that it presses firmly against her, then turn the locking nut on the armature. "Young lady." I say firmly. "First, you can clearly bear it, because you are bearing it. Second, yes, you will do anything I want. Third, no. I won't stop. Now, lets see how you do with this."

I make final adjustments to the positioning of the dildo, manually separating her vaginal lips with my fingers and introducing the tip into the entrance of her vaginal canal. She screams in shock and fear at my touch, tensing her muscles one last time before she closes her eyes and begins to sob again, slowly surrendering to the inevitable as her torso slides down the wall, the dildo pushing into her sex as her lips part for the obscenely proportioned artificial penis. As the tip of the dildo disappears between the delicate folds of her vulva, spreading her wide with its ribbed girth, she summons the strength to slow her descent once more, desperately straining to prevent the intruder from sinking further in. As she lifts herself, I adjust the mounting pole by the same amount, thwarting her attempt to escape the device, and ensuring that the tip rests in her most intimate hole even when her body is elevated as high as her bondage will allow.

With a frantic grunt of frustration she realizes the cruel twist I have applied to her torment. She begins to beg and protest again, but her breathing is labored as she struggles with exhaustion, desperate both to end the burning in her legs and arms and to avoid being skewered by the dildo waiting patiently for her resistance to end. Suddenly, she grimaces, and I see her abdomen tense as she realizes she must face the inevitable. Slowly she relaxes her arms, and the weight of her body slowly begins to push the dildo deeper inside her. She whimpers in discomfort as her vaginal lips fold over each generous rib as the cock slowly impales her, and I can see the look of intense concentration and pain on her face as she tries to control the rate of descent, fearing the device plunging deep inside her.

Her concentration is broken by the nipple clamps tightening, cruelly dividing her attention between the two tormenters as the tension in the chain increases, but she has no strength left to fight her inevitable descent, and merely tries to arch her back, throwing her breasts as far forward as possible to relieve some of the tension as she finally comes to rest with the artificial penis deep inside her, her mons resting finally against the round head of the inactive vibrator.

Her breathing is deep and deliberate, like a woman in labor, and her body tense and trembling with the shock of her violation. Suddenly her lower body slumps in exhausted defeat, only her upper body attempting to relieve her torment.

I take a moment to adjust a control on the base of the pole, expanding a small air bladder in the top of the dildo. While she flinches at the unfamiliar sensation, I know that it will not hurt her, it has simply inflated the tip of the penis, making it wide enough that it would be extremely painful to remove from her vagina. I am fairly sure that her bondage will prevent her from expelling the device, but it's always safer to be sure. In addition, the head will now give her some more tactile feedback as she reaches the top of her range of movement, helping her better manage her predicament.

Her wrists are clearly starting to ache once more, the rope cutting into the skin and applying pressure the delicate combination of bones and muscle. The time between cycles will continue to shrink as her reserves of strength are worn down. She takes one more deep breath, and pushes with all her might, using her strong thighs to flex her knees once more, pushing down with her feet and forcing her body upwards. Several inches of the dildo emerge, the ribs rubbing against her vaginal lips as she rises. Her body reaches the full extension that her bondage allows, the ropes gripping her thighs to her ankles at a 45 degree angle and her wrists almost able to rest on her head while the chain on the nipple claims hangs loosely, the agonizing tension gone, and replaced with the dull ache of the clamps.

For a moment she seems relieved, and then puzzled, as she strains more vigorously again, apparently attempting to dislodge the dildo from her uncomfortably filled vagina. I smile, watching her sob as she realizes that both the hight of the artificial cock and the inflated bladder in the tip prevent her from expelling it. She is trapped, the dildo still rests inside her even as she strains and struggles to push herself higher.

She is gasping for breath now, as her legs tiring and her body burning with the effort of holding herself up, but she is not yet ready to face the humiliation and violation of the dildo and the pain of the nipple clamps again. She starts to speak again, this time more ragged and desperate.

"Please. Please." She sobs. "What is it you want? I'll do it, just please, please make it stop."

I'm not tremendously interested in her pleadings, so I take the opportunity to examine her cunt. The trimmed hair is matted with sweat, and her vagina still plugged with the top quarter of the dildo. The lips are more visible now, having been spread so brutally. I notice that they are relatively large, the outer and inner lips distinctly visible, with a prominent clitoris covered by a generous hood. It's clear to me that she is not aroused by her situation, and the thought passes through my head that to have taken that dildo inside her with as little fuss as she did when she was clearly not turned on was an achievement. It does mean that I may need to intervene to help her arousal however, unless she corrects things soon.

"Young Lady." I say calmly. "I want you to be the best whore you can be. I want you to remember this as the moment in your training when you realized that you were in the hands of a professional who would coax performance out of you that you never thought possible."

I watch dispassionately as her legs give out again, and she slowly slides back down the dildo, her face more resigned this time, although I can make out a light grimace with every rib of the cock that she takes inside her. Finally she rests once more at the lowest point of her torment, her breasts and wrists taking the strain as her legs loose muscle tone and her filled pussy fully envelopes the dildo. Her breathing is more ragged, and her body is sweating heavily. I flip the switch on the Hitachi taped to the dildo, its head resting against the top of her vulva. Her demeanor changes immediately. She jumps, squealing, immediately pushing with her legs to escape the surprising and unwanted sensation. She pulls with her wrists, trying to gain more leverage to pull her self up, brought up short by the inflated end of the dildo in her pussy.

"No!" She screams. "No! Please!"

Now, I realize that the application of the wand to the area right over her clit was a shock, and her exertions have moved her cunt away from the vibrating ball, but of course, attached to the dildo, the wand is still transmitting strong vibrations through the dildo, which is resting firmly inside her. It's not obvious to me whether she has realized this, she is still pulling tightly with her arms, and pushing desperately with her legs, although it must be obvious to her by this stage that she cannot maintain this position.

I watch her exhaust herself once more, shaking at the end as she is no longer able to maintain muscle control, and slowly descends, painfully taking the vibrating dildo back into her vaginal canal. I'm watching her closely for any signs of arousal at this point, knowing that the exhaustion serves at least in part to lower her ability to resist external stimulation, and that her desperate attempts to balance pain and tired muscles will serve to distract her from other, more subtle assaults. She shows little ability to control the last inches of her descent, collapsing into her resting position, her nipples pulled tight by the chains, her mons resting firmly against the tennis ball sized vibrator, and her lips splayed lewdly by the dildo that fills her so completely.

She trembles, sobbing and writhing, trying desperately to focus and make sense of the overwhelming sensations her body is experiencing. She thrusts her upper body forward, trying to minimize the pain from the nipple clamps, but the action simultaneously tilts her abdomen and hips, her clitoris forced against the powerful vibrator. The sensation shocks her once more, and she jerks her hips, trying to pull away, her breasts tugging sharply at the chains. Perhaps unable to tolerate the sharp clamps on her tender nipples, perhaps curious about the sensation of the vibrator, she arches her back again, pressing her vulva back onto the ball, gasping at the intensity.

I take the opportunity to tweak the instrument of her torment, reducing the tension on the nipple clamps so that resting in the lowest position does not tug on the chains so long as her breasts are thrust forward, forcing her hips to angle down and her vulva to splay around the head of the vibrator while her clitoris presses hard against it.

I notice the subtle change in her motion immediately. She is no longer desperately struggling to lift herself away from the dildo and the cruel tugging on her nipples. Instead she has realized that she can rest her torso, and relieve the pressure on her wrists, by taking some of the weight of her body on her mons, pressed against the vibrator at the base of the dildo. The position is a terrible Faustian pact for her, and one that she cannot be unaware of. The only position that relieves her discomfort and exhaustion simultaneously subjects her to relentless stimulation of her vulva and clitoris.

She lifts herself from the vibrator, a sharp intake of breath accompanying her straining as she pulls herself up with her arms and pushes with her thighs, exposing some six inches of the dildo, slick with lubrication from her engorged vagina. She begins to pant, her body slick with perspiration, the exertion already taking a toll on her once more.

"Please." She says, her voice still distorted by the gag, "Please, please let me - let me go. I'll do anything."

"What will you do?" I ask?

"Anything - please!" she cries out, her legs beginning to tremble as she is unable to support her weight any longer, and starts to lower herself back down, a soft moan coming from her as she takes the dildo back inside her, thrusting her breasts forward and settling her pubis onto the waiting vibrator.