Pound of Flesh

You hate being gagged. The taste of the ball is unpleasant and already you are having to resist your instinctive reflex to try to expel the intruder from your mouth, but you do your best to relax your muscles and accept it gracefully.

It helps that even you have to admit that you look incredibly hot as you gaze once more into the mirror. With your hair and make-up done nicely, the suggestive string of pearls around your neck and the expensive heels on your feet, you could easily pass for a rich young heiress having a night of illicit fun with a selected lover. But the fact that your body has been stripped naked, your wrists enticingly imprisoned behind your back and your mouth brutally filled by the gag, reveals that things are out of your control. Perhaps the heroine you are picturing has been kidnapped into a life of sexual slavery. Your mind starts to take a flight of fantasy as you imagine that this could be your first encounter with your new owner. He would keep you bound and gagged because you are not yet broken to his will, but he would plan to use and abuse you until you accept your situation and no longer need the restraints. You wonder how much resistance you would put up before succumbing to the inevitable and accepting your fate. You suspect that you have a fair bit of fight in you.

But he doesn't leave you to fantasise for long. 'Time to face the music, princess,' he says ominously. He takes you by the arm and helps you to your feet. He spins you away from him and releases the cuffs from your wrists. This comes as something of a surprise. You had expected to stay in bondage for quite some time.

'Don't get your hopes up,' he says, reading your thoughts. 'We just need a change of position and a change of restraints to match.'

He leaves you standing and moves once again to your case. This time he takes out a handful of silk scarves, all of which you recognise. It doesn't take long for you to realise that they will be put to a different use than the one you intended for them this evening. Some of them were quite expensive and you feel a little anxious that they will get ruined, but the gag in your mouth prevents you from complaining. You don't suppose he would pay any attention, in any case.

'On the bed, on your back,' he orders abruptly.

You notice that he doesn't bother with niceties like "please" and reflect that there would be little point. A few polite words would hardly disguise the reality that you are nothing but his toy. You do as he tells you and settle yourself back on the covers with your head resting on the luxurious pillows.

'Arms wide,' he instructs.

You spread your arms apart and grasp the conveniently placed posts at the head of the bed. You wonder if he inspected the room first to check that the furniture was suitable for his nefarious plans. He knots a scarf around one of your wrists and then ties it to the post, before moving around the bed and treating the other in exactly the same way. Then he steps back to admire his handiwork.

You lie, arms spread wide like a sacrifice, and look him in the eyes. They have a devilish glint in them. The naked lust he feels for you is practically exuding from his person. You know that he is going to make you sweat and suffer, but you feel wanted like never before and your body can't wait to be taken in all the ways he desires. If he offered you the chance to let you out of the agreement right now, you know you'd turn him down without a second's thought.

He strips off his clothes without any hurry, enjoying the view of your body as he does so. When he removes his shirt you enjoy the view of his strong chest. You long to run your hands over those muscles, but you know that he will allow you to do no such thing. When he pulls down his trousers you can see his erection creating a large bulge in the front of his underwear and you feel a sense of exultation washing over you because you have this effect on him, even though he came in your mouth just two or three hours earlier. When he removes his underwear, you watch his hard cock spring free and you want it inside you. You wonder how long he will make you wait for the pleasure of accommodating him.

He takes a couple more of the scarves and binds one around each of your ankles, above the straps of your shoes. You wonder if the bonds will reach the corners of the bed, but you soon find out that he has other plans. Instead of securing your feet to the foot of the bed, leaving you in a spread-eagle position, he lifts your legs until they are pointing vertically into the air. Then he holds the ends of the scarves and pulls on them, continuing to move your legs in the same direction and bending your body in the process. You shift your position down on the bed as much as your bondage allows because this is beginning to be a test of the flexibility in which you take such pride. He is relentless in his efforts and by the time he is done you are bent almost double and feeling the strain. Your ballet teacher definitely never anticipated this! But without allowing you any respite, he ties one scarf to the board at the head of the bed, securing your ankle tightly, and then the does the same with the other other, leaving you restrained in this uncomfortable, helpless and incredibly vulnerable position.

'Do you remember what I said earlier about having your naked arse at my mercy?' he reminds you. Then he continues, without waiting for you to reply through the gag, 'Now I just have to decide how much of a punishment you deserve before I replace that plug with my cock.'

He leaves you on the bed and goes to his case. While you wait, you wriggle slightly, but with no more success than an upturned bug. He has trussed you so that you can barely move. You cannot see the mirror from your position and you can only imagine what you look like from his perspective. But the thought of him looking your bound form up and down, enjoying the sight of your plugged arse on display and your heels pointing skywards, only turns you on all the more.

When he returns, he is carrying two items. He holds them both in front of your eyes, which widen when you see what they are. The first is a large and powerful looking vibrator. You are hardly surprised at its arrival. But the other is a vicious looking cane, and it is this which causes your eyes to bulge. You had expected a tough spanking, but you can imagine all too vividly the devastating effects his weapon will have on your tender, exposed flesh.

He balances both the cane and the vibrator across your body, just below your breasts, and rests his hand on your arse. 'Pleasure and pain,' he says simply, as if you needed any indication of what is to come.

There is nothing you can do to stop him, so you lie back on the bed and make yourself as comfortable as you can to prepare yourself for the imminent onslaught. He slides his hand between your legs, which have been forcibly parted by your bondage, as well as being harshly bent back above you, and targets your clit with his fingers. You are already slick with arousal at being reduced to a state of slavery, and you see a smile forming on his lips as he realises just how easy it will be for him to make you scream for the orgasms he has promised.

But you know that he is going to make you suffer before giving you any sort of fulfilment, so it comes as no surprise when he picks up the cane and gives a couple of half-hearted practice swishes at the air. You can feel it hissing ominously as it picks up speed.

'I was just going to use my hand on you,' he explains. 'I only brought this cane along on the off-chance, but since you've been so bratty, I think it's exactly what you deserve.'

You close your eyes and wait for the inevitable agony to begin, but instead he picks up the vibrator in his left hand, switches it on, and rests it on your stomach so that it is pressing gently on your clit. You moan involuntarily at the sudden stimulation, but his only response is to press the toy a little harder against your sensitive spot.

He keeps this up for a short time, allowing your moans to grow in volume as you allow the waves of pleasure to wash over you and you relax into the sensation as well as your bonds will allow. The vibe is doing such a good job that you soon forget all about the cane in his other hand.

But you get a harsh reminder when you hear the familiar hissing once again and this time, a split-second later, it makes contact with the exposed flesh of your butt with an audible snap. You yelp with shock initially, but your sound turns into a howl of protest as the stinging pain sets in just a moment later. He has spanked you with his hand several times before and that was hard enough, but already you can tell that the impact of the cane will be far more painful and far tougher to endure. The fact that he is not going to give you any choice in the matter only makes the anticipation more difficult to bear.

He presses the vibrator a little more firmly against you and swings the cane once again. The pain of the impact does not come as such a surprise this time, so you manage to contain your noise with some difficulty, but already you can feel your eyes beginning to water.

A third blow lands on your bare buttocks and by the time of the fourth, you can remain quiet no longer. You squeal with impotent, undignified protest at the unjust punishment he is inflicting on you. With futile effort you strain at your bonds, but although the silk scarves feel soft against your wrists, they hold you in place as effectively as iron manacles and you cannot prevent your arse from remaining an alluring target for him to hit.

He seems to sense that you are struggling to cope and he stops striking you for a while, focusing instead on the vibrator. Before long your sounds have returned to excited moans around the gag and you can tell that your second orgasm of the evening is close. But of course, he reminds you that he is not giving you an easy ride with a fifth blow of the cane, forcing you to jerk against your restraints and squeal once again.

'I don't want my princess to come too early,' he says, switching off the vibrator, apparently oblivious to your frustrated whines. 'You need to learn your lesson about being bratty first.'

Even in your unenviable state you have the presence of mind to reflect that he is treating you like anything but a princess, but he doesn't give you much time to question his choice of language.

He lands another couple of strokes in quick succession without any pleasure to mitigate the torture. By now he is turning you into a quivering wreck. Your eyes are streaming freely and you can look down to see the sweat standing out on the skin of your naked breasts. You are aware that you are making the bedclothes damp from your exertions, but the vision of his stiff cock as you turn your head sideways gives you a good indication that the whole thing is only turning him on the more. Again you ask yourself what sort of man you have chosen for yourself.

With all your dignity well and truly gone, you resort to begging him for mercy, but all you can manage is a muffled stream of gibberish because of the stifling gag. It doesn't help that he returns the fingers of his left hand to your clit. It's not as effective as the vibrator, but it's distracting enough to render your communication even less comprehensible because it merges into groans of helpless arousal.

'I don't understand a word you're saying,' he tells you, with a tone of mock apology which contrasts strikingly with the hiss as he swings the cane again.

All your sounds degenerate into nothing but a cocktail of submissive frustration. You are trying to speak, but even without the gag, you are not sure which type of release you would beg him to give you. Your mind is trying to convince you to rebel against his abuse, but your body is screaming to be allowed the climax it craves. Meanwhile the pain of the discipline with the cane has long since gone past being restricted to the moments when he strikes you. By now it is a continuous burning in your arse. You can only imagine what your cheeks look like. You feel as if your flesh has been cut to ribbons.

He seems to be able to read your thoughts. 'Such a pretty pattern,' he comments as he looks at your buttocks appraisingly. 'Almost ready for me to fuck. But first I think I'd better let you come.'

He picks up the vibrator again, switches it on and holds it to your clit, harder than ever this time. Within seconds you are screaming out as the first waves of orgasm hit you hard and you ride the crest in helpless ecstasy. But he still has something in store to make it even stronger, because he uses the cane to hit you once again. This time you don't even notice an increase in pain. Instead the impact just seems to push you over the edge into the abyss. Involuntarily, you arch your back as far as your bonds will allow, your screams hit an even higher volume and your brain loses all semblance of coherence as you can do nothing but feel at a greater intensity than ever before for several seconds. You lose all sense of normality. It feels as if your entire body is nothing but a collection of nerve endings, all tuned to the most sensitive setting possible as you experience the most incredible orgasm of your life.

When you recover some degree of coherent thought you are still lying on the bed in exactly the same bent position, but he has abandoned both the cane and the vibrator and is using the pen to record another mark on one of your butt cheeks. You wince in anticipation of the pain when the pen comes into contact with the welts which you know the cane must have left, but evidently he has left a spot unblemished, because the ink brings you no additional suffering.

'Two-one to you,' he says, matter-of-factly. 'Time for me to equalise.'

You reflect that it's typical of a man to turn a sexual encounter such as this into something resembling a football match, but there is little you can do to object as he reaches for the end of the plug which has remained inside you throughout his assault and starts to pull it from your arse.

The toy causes every bit as much discomfort in coming out as it did in going in, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the humiliation of being plugged and unplugged at his pleasure, as if you are merely a convenient set of holes for him to treat exactly as he likes. But you are forced to reflect that as a result of the bargain which you so foolishly accepted, that is exactly what you are for him this evening. He can do whatever he likes with any part of your body.

After a fair degree of pulling, the plug finally pops out of your stretched hole. He lays it to one side and starts to apply some lubricant with his finger once again. If anything, this is even more degrading. You know that he is just preparing you for his own entry. But it's probably the closest you will get to tender foreplay tonight.

Eventually he is satisfied. He leaves your legs tied above your head and you realise that the strain of the position raises your arse off the bed and gives him the angle he needs. Even so, when he kneels in position it becomes clear that your hole is not high enough to give him easy entry. Somehow, and you have no idea exactly why, you find yourself thrusting your arse upwards to make his life easier. Surely no woman has ever accepted her submission as fully as this? Your limbs are trussed tightly to the bed, your arse is still stinging from his punishment and your whole body is still tingling from its orgasm, yet you are trying to get your butt into the perfect position for him to fuck. Sometimes you are a mystery even to yourself.

When he is satisfied, he pushes himself inside you with a grunt. Your rear entrance is tight and you gasp audibly as you can feel him stretching you even wider than the plug, but you grit your teeth and do your best to accommodate him without complaint. With some effort he gets himself properly inside, but you only begin to appreciate the discomfort when he starts to thrust against you.

You struggle to brace yourself as well as you can so that your body remains still as he moves back and forth. You know that it will only last longer if you cannot hold your position. Even so, you feel like a ragdoll as he builds momentum, and a particularly masochistic ragdoll at that. But he is clearly getting somewhere. He starts to groan as he approaches his own climax and you see him close his eyes as you look up through your splayed legs into his face. Finally he grunts his satisfaction aloud as you feel his cock pulse and expel its seed inside your butt and you know that the job is done.

Yet it feels as if his orgasm will go on forever as his whole body remains tense for some time and his cock continues to spurt. Finally he relaxes his muscles and slides out of you with a gasp to match your own. You relax and close your eyes as you listen to his breathing gradually return to normal. When he has recovered, you feel him evening the scores with a mark on your other butt cheek and you wonder what is to come next.

'Time for a shower,' he says. 'We need to get you cleaned up.'

You could not agree more. Even the most casual of observers could hardly fail to spot your dishevelled hair, smeared make-up and perspiring skin, not to mention the trickle of his juices which you can feel leaking from your arse. He removes the shoes from your feet and unties your ankles from the head of the bed. Gingerly, wincing from the pain and stiffness, you return your bent body to its natural position with a sigh of relief, waiting for him to release your arms and take you to the bathroom.

But then he disappears. You can hear him rummaging around in the wardrobe in the corner of the room and you wonder what the hell he is doing. What sort of man goes searching in the cupboard when he has his woman trussed up on the bed and committed to obeying his every whim?

But when he returns you get your answer and with a gulp you realise exactly what sort of man he is. Right now you would give good money to replace him with somebody else. He is carrying a coat hanger. Of course, there is nothing intrinsically disturbing about that, although it might seem a little odd in the circumstances, but you notice immediately that it's one of those coat hangers with the pegs attached to the lower bar for holding clothes. It doesn't take any time for you to realise, with a shudder, that using the pegs to hang up his clothes couldn't be further from his mind. Instead he is clearly planning to use them on your nipples.

You have always been inclined to the submissive side of things, although he brings it out of you more than anyone else ever has, and you are not averse to taking pain in the interests of sexual arousal, as your performance so far this evening amply demonstrates. But you have never liked having your nipples clamped. Maybe your buds are more sensitive than other women's. Whatever the reason, you would do a great deal to avoid it. But the expression on his face tells you that he is not planning to give you much choice, and with your hands still bound, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop him.

He clambers onto the bed, still naked, and kneels astride your upper body, holding the hanger ready to clip the pegs into position. You squirm frantically, knowing that resistance is futile, but unable to accept your fate. He uses his knees to grip you firmly and hold you in place, and positions the clamps over your nipples before allowing them to spring shut on their targets. What feels like a jolt of electricity shoots through your entire body and you cannot stop yourself from screaming at the top of your voice. In spite of the gag you imagine that the entire hotel must hear you. The fact that nobody arrives suggests that the sound-proofing must be of an excellent standard. You'll have to remember to recommend it to the next evil bastard who wants to tie up and torture his girlfriend with no fear of disturbance.