Staked Out Naked

"Fuck that was cold," she giggles.

I laugh as well.

I'm aware I must be insane but I'm enjoying this game.

This frightening, deadly, thrilling game.

One last kiss and then my Mistress gives me the mouthpiece and, in her kindness, uses duct tape to bind it on and keep me from losing it.

"You just need to survive," she says as she stands, straddling me.

I keep my eyes on hers and the tide sweeps over me again and again.

I'm so tightly spread that the sea can rock me only a little, but it can also rock the small trees that I am tied to and they pull me in different directions.

Wrenching my already strained muscles.

Mistress sees my pain and I see her realize the cause.

Her eyes light up in pleasure and she laughs at me, even as she is now being buffeted by the sea.

I know that my joy and pleasure in suffering for her is clear for her to see.

Even as the sea completely covers me, and Mistress moves to the side, so as not to step on me, I keep my eyes on her.

Until her dress is swirling around her upper thighs and she has to leave, or swim, and I am powerless and abandoned beneath the sea.

I try to concentrate on the sky high above as the water smothers me. I must keep my breathing steady.

Mistress said I just have to survive, but for how long?

Twenty minutes maybe, no more than an hour.

My heart is pounding though.

The water is oppressive.

I was coping when Mistress was with me and I could look at her, but now I'm alone and the opaque rolls of power feel threatening, as they crash overhead.

Like they are going to crush me.

The sky and trees above me are distorted and the waves look somehow solid and heavy.

I'm scared.

A shape suddenly flies through the water above me and I jerk my head, shifting the mask strap.

Saltwater leaks in and I close my eyes tight as the mask quickly fills.

Shit, Shit. Now I'm blind as well. What if something hits the breathing tube.

Think of something else, concentrate on what is happening, what can I feel?

I force my mind to my body.

The ropes cutting into my wrists and ankles as the trees that I am tied to, sway in the waves.

The sting as the salt irritates the abrasions.

My back and shoulders hurt as I'm pulled and tugged in different directions.

I become aware of the taste of salt and my heart thunders a few beats but then I tell myself that is normal. It's expected.

I'm not swallowing water, I'm breathing.

Find something that hurts, think about something that hurts.

My ass hurts.

My ass hurts like hell, but I would do anything to feel Mistresses fingers inside me again. Massaging me again, no matter how painful.

Cum over her hand again.

I let my mind focus on this. Eyes still squeezed shut.

I imagine Mistress coming back and running her hands over me. Stroking my cock.

Her fingers dancing over my balls and tugging gently.

Suddenly I realize that this is not purely my imagination.

The sensation is real, a gentle tickling and tugging at my cock and balls.

It's the water.

The water is retreating, the tide is going out.

I'm itching, it's water running down me in drips, I'm no longer underwater.

I'm alive.

- x

I don't hear Mistress approach, just her voice, abruptly beside me.

"Keep your eyes closed."

I keep them tight shut as the mask is removed and water, I assume fresh is poured over my face, rinsing the salt away.

"Okay, now. Open and blink, blink, blink."

I obey and the water gently washes out my stinging eyes.

She stands over me for a few moments, "Looks like the tide didn't wash the trash off my beach," she says nastily.

I watch her as she cuts through the ropes holding my ankles, removes the mouthpiece and packs everything into a large bag.

Eventually I'm left just tied by my arms, but I have no strength in my body.

She pulls the strap-on from the branch and tugs it over her hips.

"Mistress."

"No talking," she demands.

"Mistress, please."

"Shut up."

"I didn't do anything," I whine.

She kneels down and grips my balls, leaning over me.

"If you say one more word, I will leave you here for the next tide," she promises.

She looks angry, "Understand?"

I nod.

Mistress pushes my legs up and lines up the strap-on against my hole.

I think I have just made things worse for myself, and as she shoves in, I scream and know that I am right.

She watches me with a look of disgust on her face as she takes me.

Pummels me until I am gasping for breath through my sobs.

Then she starts to stroke my cock and somehow, despite everything, I harden.

She forces me to cum, as she rapes me.

She breaks me.

Then stands and cuts through the final ropes.

I just lay, still in my spread-eagled position as she looks down at me, shaking and crying. No even the strength to cover myself.

"You are nothing," she says quietly.

Somehow, despite my pain and weakness. I manage to stand when instructed, and stagger behind Mistress to the bungalow.

She leads me in and leaves me for a moment standing by a door, returning with a small metal stick.

"As per my original instructions, you will call me Mistress and only speak when spoken to," she says.

"Yes, Mistress."

"You can use this room. You should be aware that any attempt to escape, or harm me will go very badly for you."

"Yes, Mistress."

"This is what will happen whenever you speak without permission," she says, and places the stick against my balls.

I fall to the floor in a soundless scream as my limbs collapse. It feels like my testicle is being torn apart and crushed at the same time, while being burnt to a crisp.

Ten agonizing seconds and I'm left breathless, panting on the floor, shaking like I have been electrocuted, which I pretty much have.

"Have I made myself clear," she asks.

I manage to rasp out, "Yes, Mistress."

She pushes open the door to my new room.

Before I crawl in, she leans down again and whispers harshly in my ear.

"Kitty is nineteen years old, studying hard to go to medical school and she's a sweet hard-working girl. She identified you herself, which took more courage than you will ever possess, so don't tell me again that you 'didn't do anything' because I don't believe you."

I shake my head but don't dare to speak.

"The message left with you, asked me to punish you, and you can believe me. I will."

I manage to crawl into the room, and she slams the door shut behind me.

"Shit," I sit and cradle my balls for a while, feeling numb, struggling to get my head around this.

I don't feel like this 'Kitty' is lying or being vindictive, but she's got it wrong.

I manage to drag myself to my feet and stand in the shower for what feels like hours. Blissful hot water raining down on my head.

I find myself dozing off for the second time and carefully climb out, drag a towel briefly across myself and crash on the bed.

I can't think anymore.

I'll think tomorrow.

- x

I wake slowly and dreaming of Mistress pumping her fake cock repeatedly into my body.

I reach down and grab myself, stroking slowly and gently.

My eyes still closed, a moan escaping.

It's too soon to wake up, even though I know it's late, but this feels so good, until --

"What do you think you're doing?"

She speaks quietly, but I squeak and spring up, landing on my knees, my cock pointing directly at Mistress and bouncing slightly.

She leans forward on the chair; she must have been watching me sleep.

"That cock belongs to me now. You will NEVER touch it again without permission other than to clean it. Is that clear?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Get in the shower."

I swing quickly off the bed and walk to the bathroom, pleased that I seem to have regained some strength.

Shocked when Mistress moves her chair to the open doorway and sits back down.

I stare at her for a moment.

"Yes, I'm going to watch you," she smirks at my unanswered question.

Keeping my eyes down I turn on the shower, ignore my shaking hand and start to wash myself. Her eyes following my every move.

I push aside how exposed I feel and start to plan.

I've always known that I was submissive.

Ever since I hit puberty and discovered what my cock could do (apart from piss) I have fantasized about being at the mercy of a dominant woman.

I laugh inside, being sure to keep my face expressionless.

Looks like my fantasy is coming true.

Yesterday was frightening, and fucking dangerous, but the pain has faded and now it seems like a turn on.

Nothing's broken, I'm not bleeding, I can cope with this.

Maybe if I'm good.

If I'm really good and make her happy, she will let me explain more.

Explain that I'm not the man they think I am.

I soap up my hand and clean my cock, growing harder as I think about her watching me.

My breathing speeds up.

"Turn the shower onto cold."

I look up, "But, I'm not playing Mistress, I just want to be clean for you."

Her eyes narrow and I swallow hard.

"Cold," she repeats.

I turn the dial and gasp as freezing water hits me.

My cock shrivels and shrinks away in disgust and I quickly finish, leaping out of the shower and shivering.

Mistress hands me a towel, a dark smile in place.

"Five minutes," she says and leaves.

Exactly five minutes later I walk out of my room and find her, munching toast and watching me, her bright blue eyes amused.

She looks to be in her forties, but exactly where, it's hard to tell.

I stand and keep my eyes on the floor, not even looking up when she finishes and approaches me.

She grabs my cock, still recovering from the cold shower and bounces it on her hand a few times.

I breathe in sharply and can feel the blood already start to pump down towards my happy place.

Then she starts to run her hands over my shaved body.

I think she is trying to make me feel like an object, but it just feels fucking amazing, and soon I'm hard again.

Mistress continues to tease me until I'm trembling and then steps back.

"Go make us breakfast," she instructs, "I'll have some scrambled eggs."

"Um, Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"What can I have?" I ask, I don't want to piss her off again.

She smiles, "I don't want you passing out on me, you must be starving. You re-fuel property," she says.

"Thank you, Mistress," I say and hurry to obey, grabbing an apple as I start.

I am still lightheaded and that is no doubt due to little food in well over twenty-four hours.

As I get breakfast together, crunching my way through about six slices of toast as I cook eggs, plus bacon for me, I watch Mistress.

She is setting up for the day.

Lots of large sketch pads and pencils, some rope, notepads.

She lays it all out like she has a routine.

Is she an artist?

We eat in silence and then she tells me to go use the bathroom if needed, it will be my last chance for a while.

I hurry back and immediately she binds my hands behind my back.

Tight.

I gasp as she pulls on the rope.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Thank me."

"Thank you for my pain, Mistress," I'm learning.

Mistress smiles and instructs me to stand in the light, to flex my hands if I need to and tell her if I get any tingling or numbness.

She seems to have mastered the art of allowing circulation in tight bondage,

because I don't have any problems with that, but it hurts.

Holding the same position for hours. My wrists tied tight together. The tension in my back and shoulders.

Finally, she puts her pad to one side, I catch a glimpse of my suffering wrists in a detailed pencil drawing. I can almost see the blood pumping through my bulging veins, the pain throbbing from the page.

Mistress pushes me on to the sofa, without untying me, and in a somewhat business-like manner, starts to fondle my cock.

I'm confused, it doesn't seem like she is trying to please me. It's more like she just wants me hard. More sketches perhaps.

Then I don't care because her hands on me feel so good and my head falls back as I pant and grow in her hands.

"Oh God, Mistress, that feels so good."

And then -- she stops.

My head comes up and I blink at her, she moves to the table and sits on a chair, flicking through her sketches.

"I'm a writer," she says, "and I paint. Mostly femdom scenes. Men's pain, women's pleasure."

She looks up and her eyes are full of an emotion that I can't read.

"Women's pleasure at men's pain."

I'm breathing hard, and not just because I'm so aroused.

"You are going to help me prepare some new work," she says.

"I'm pleased to help you Mistress," I say quietly, "but I only have my hotel room another day."

Mistress walks back over to me and cups my face, running her thumb along my lips and into my mouth when I open for her.

She smiles again, "You have a submissive streak a mile wide don't you?"

I close my eyes. I don't need to say anything, she can read me easily, as my cock reached towards her again.

She laughs softly and grabs a newspaper from the table, coming back and holding it in front of me.

"Don't worry about your hotel room," she says.

The paper is folded but I can just make out the headline.

'American tourist feared drowned.'

My eyes snap to hers in horror and I realize how trapped I am.

I shake my head mutely; I genuinely do not know what to say.

She throws the paper aside and pouts at me as she kneels down, pushing my legs apart and blowing over my cock, which had just been thinking about softening again.

Then, bliss, she takes me in her mouth.

I moan as her tongue swirls around my tip, then she licks me before sucking me deep.

This isn't punishment, this is heaven.

My Mistress worships my cock until I'm panting, my hips thrusting up and then.

She stops.

Again.

My eyes fly open and I look into her laughing face, and I see.

This is my punishment.

She's going to torment me. Edge me into insanity.

She pats my knee gently as she stands.

"Let's get you ready for bed," she says.

I sit uncertain until she comes back with some sort of harness.

I stand at her command and she unties my hands, giving me a five-minute bathroom break.

I just about manage; my arms are weak from a day being bound.

Then I step into the harness, it comes over my hips, around my waist and loops around my cock and balls.

It's soft leather, and not uncomfortable, but I feel like a stripper.

Then she fastens my wrists into soft cuffs at thigh level.

"How much movement do you have?" she asks.

I move my arms a little.

I have enough movement to not get cramp or stiff, but I won't be able to do anything about being painfully aroused.

"Perfect," she smiles, "There's your supper. Goodnight."

I watch her walk away, then walk to the kitchen, feeling ridiculous, my wrists clamped to my thighs, and drink the thick shake she has left for me.

At least she gave me a straw, she doesn't want to starve me.

Horny and frustrated I go to my room and flop onto the bed, falling once again into erotic dreams of pain and use.

- x

I wake the following morning. Still hard, no surprise there.

I walk out and find Mistress greeting the day with Tai Chi, which is beautiful, and I stand mesmerized, until she finishes and sees me.

I want to tell her that it was beautiful, but I dare not in case she fries my balls again.

She notices my frustration and smiles as she unlocks me.

It's clear that she will make me suffer in any way she can.

I remain frustrated and upset as I make breakfast.

Tense, as I step into the shower under Mistresses gaze.

I reach up and turn it on to cold when I wash my cock and balls before she has to ask me.

Then I realize with a jolt of shock.

She's training me.

She's training me and I'm learning fast.

As I step out of the shower, she hands me a towel again and she is smiling.

Mistress is pleased with me and that makes me feel?

"Five minutes," she says and leaves.

I dry myself slowly, thinking.

It should make me feel angry, manipulated.

It should piss me off.

I should be screaming at the heavens at the unfairness.

Afraid. I should be afraid.

But I'm not.

Okay. I am scared, but it's not creating the fight or flight response in me that it should do.

It's turning me on.

She's going to punish me today. There's going to be pain.

And that's turning me on as well.

I'm happy because she is pleased with me.

None of this makes any sense but I can't deny these feelings.

I walk out to meet her, and my excitement builds.

There is a rope hanging from the ceiling hook.

Attached to it are cuffs for my wrists.

Mistress beckons me forward, and after she removes the harness, I allow her to restrain me again.

She raises my arms above my head and strokes my body for a while. It seems like she is enjoying me. I hope so.

She looks up into my eyes and smiles.

"Today we are doing pain and suffering," she says.

I close my eyes, unable to stop the tremble that runs through me.

I honestly have no idea if it is fear or excitement.

"Slave," she calls.

I open my eyes, breathless at the sight of the flogger in her hand.

"I need you to describe this for me, for as long as you can," she instructs.

"Yes, Mistress, I'll try."

"Have you been flogged before?"

"No, Mistress."

She gives me such a wicked grin, that is so cute I actually laugh, and chuckling she walks behind me.

Waiting, allowing my fear to build.

"Oh, fuck, please just do it," I beg finally.

Thwack.

Okay, not too bad.

Thwack.

I can deal.

Thwack.

Except, shit this is starting to smart.

Thwack, Thwack, Thwack.

"Shit!"

Her hand rubs over my ass.

"Warming up nicely, pain toy."

"Yes, Mistress, it feels warm. Tingly."

"Hurts?"

"A little Mistress."

Thwack, Thwack, on and on. My butt, legs and back.

I'm sobbing before she stops again and strokes my back and my ass.

"How's it feeling now?"

"It burns," I sob, "It's throbbing."

"And when the blows land?"

"Um," I sniff, "Like a thump but with a sting. The thump and then the sting and then the heat and then the throb."

"Oh, that's great," she says and runs to jot down what I said, mumbling it under her breath.

She comes back and takes me by surprise by taking my face in her hands and kissing me.

"That was really helpful, thank you."

She seems to mean it.

"Can I get you anything, before I beat the front of your body?"

Oh Fuck.

Screw it.

"Another kiss?" I try.

Her eyes widen and she laughs, "You are so cheeky. Oh my God, how do you dare?"

"You're going to hurt me anyway Mistress, how much worse can it get?"

She watches me for a while, but she seems genuinely amused, and somehow puzzled by me.

Good. Let her wonder.

I'm not who she thinks I am. If I can make her doubt that.

Finally, she runs her hands over my chest, playing lightly with my nipples.

"It can always get worse," she says, as I groan.

Suddenly, to my shock she is tickling me.

My hands are above me; I try to move away but I can't defend myself as she dances her fingers up and down my ribs.

We are both laughing hysterically, but I am also crying and gasping.

"Please, fuck, please Mistress stop."

As I twist and flail on the rope.

She is ruthless, and I am hanging limp before she relents.

As I struggle to get my feet back under me, dragging air into my lungs, she comes back with some water.

"Thank you, Mistress," I say roughly once I have drunk.

Then she blindfolds me, and I wait, truly scared now for the beating to re-start.

When it does, it is so much worse than I imagined.

The front of my body seems to be much more sensitive than the back and when the flogger catches my nipples, or my cock, I fucking scream.

My chest, stomach and thighs are red hot.