The Sharpie Game

He rubbed my chest soothingly. "We'll return for part B of the breast torture later. For now, I think it's time to torture something else." He switched off the vibrator, and removed it from the straps. He untied my feet from the bed. Then I felt him pulling on some ropes and attaching a clinking metal object, and realized he attached the spreader bar, and was winching my feet upward toward the ceiling.

Once again I tried to struggle. I hated being exposed like this—it was so degrading. But I was helpless. He lifted my spread legs until they were perpendicular to my torso—thankfully, not tying them back further. I could live with this, I decided. Then I felt a crop once more, this time on the tender inside curve of my ass. This was our other crop—the one we bought in Stockholm. It was short, with a narrow leather keeper. Perfect for smacking pussies, he had said, when he bought it.

This is what he did. First he smacked my ass several times with it, reigniting the hot ache caused by the earlier blows. Then he began a steady stream of slaps against my puffy pussy lips and clitoris. He stopped periodically to take more photos. For some of these I felt his breath against my wet lips, he was so close. He rubbed the wetness, cupped my entire vulva under his hand and squeezed. He bent and licked up my slit. Then he rose, untied my waist bindings, and lifted my hips until he could slide a wedge-shaped pillow under me. He returned to the licking, but now could easily reach not only my cunt, but my ass as well. He licked all over. He pressed his tongue firmly into me everywhere he could. It felt so filthy, his nose and tongue pressing into me.

Then I felt something cold and very hard pressing against my ass. It stretched my anus open and I felt it pop inside. It was a steel plug, which we'd had for years, but never used. Once it was inserted it actually felt fairly comfortable, but so heavy, like it was pulling me to the ground with its mass. I heard the camera snap again.

Then he did something with the spreader bar holding my ankles apart and lifted. He pushed it, so my legs tilted further back, and my ass was exposed more fully. With his other hand, he brought down the crop all over my plugged ass for several blows. Once, hard, right on the tip of my clit. Then he switched implements, and I felt the smooth wood of the paddle, smack into me, not hard, but enough to push the plug inside me more.

He kept up a steady stream of fairly gentle blows, until my ass felt like it was warmed evenly all over. Then he unlinked my ankles from whatever held them aloft and eased them, still attached to the spreader bar, down to the bed.

"I think it's time for your first orgasm." He lowered his head between my legs and began to lick. He was gifted in the oral sex department, and quickly had my legs twitching and shivering with need. He sucked my still swollen lips and clit, and rubbed his tongue over and over me. Then he pressed his fingers inside me. I could feel the hardness of the plug, and he could too. He bumped against it, deliberately I thought, as he massaged inside my vagina. He circled my urethra with this finger while sucking my clit, plunged more fingers inside me and started to press upward to my g-spot.

I wanted to come, desperately. I knew I would either need some more consistent flicking and pressing, a vibrator on my clit, and/or more sensation in my nipples. Any of those three things, and I would explode. But he remained inconsistent. A lick, a flick, a press. It was on purpose, of course. He was torturing me.

I started to moan against the gag. At this point the gag, which was a small black rubber cock strapped between my lips, was causing my jaw to ache. I felt all drooly and messy, and wanted it to go away. I wanted to make noise, to talk, to scream and beg. I wanted to close my mouth. But I couldn't. I could only take whatever sensations he chose to give to me.

"Do you want to come," he lifted his head and asked. I tried to nod as vigorously as the collar allowed. "Do you want the vibrator? Or nipple clamps?" I nodded at both choices—I wanted both. "Dirty girl," he said approvingly.

He knelt next to me, and began to tug my nipples. They were already so hard and tight, but his tugs felt amazing. I could feel them pulling down to my pussy, causing me to shudder and ache. Then he tugged one nipple out tight and attached a clover clamp to it. These were the harshest of our clamps—they hurt! He attached the other, and I whimpered. "Hurts, does it?" he asked. He tugged on the chain that joined them. I whimpered more, and tried to strain upward. He kept tugging, then I realized he had attached the chain to whatever strap or rope had earlier pulled my legs toward the ceiling. Now my nipples were pulled tightly upward, as he winched the rope and chain tight. Any movement I made would cause the clamps to pull against my tender nipples. I knew I would come fast like this.

Then he strapped the want vibrator back into the thigh straps. Oh no. Instead of licking, pressing his fingers, and allowing me to control the vibrator so I could come, he was going to continue to torment me. Then he said, "I'm going to fuck your ass now. I hope you can come while this happens, but if not, you will when I'm through."

He tugged the plug out of my ass, unhooked my ankles from the spreader bar, and spread lube all over my ass. Meanwhile the clamps tugged my nipples brutally, and the vibrator continued its unrelenting unchanging hum against my clit. He lifted my legs up and over his hips as he knelt in front of me. I felt him rub his cock over my dripping slit, and down to my asshole. He began to push into me.

I was, in a distant part of my mind, thinking No! but I could not stop him. And I wasn't sure I wanted to. I felt as if every part of my body wanted him, wanted more and more sensation. In this position, he couldn't easily plunge into me, but had to slowly work his way in. It hurt. He was large and I was unused to being penetrated this way, and the plug had only relaxed me a bit. But it also felt good. I wondered what I looked like for him, then heard the snap of the camera once more.

As he pressed further and further into me, he caused my body to move, and my nipple clamps to sharply tug. The vibrator lost and regained contact with my clit, again and again. Finally he was seated inside me fully. I was split open for him. But not enough, evidently, because he started to push something—not his fingers—into my cunt.

It was, I think, a dildo. And it was not a small one. I could feel every part of it stretching me open. He was taking up so much room in my ass that it was hard to push the dildo into me, but he kept forcing it in anyway. After a few minutes, he stopped.

And there I was. Stuffed full. My nipples tied to some point above the bed, and tugging so painfully. A vibrator buzzed to the left of my clit, then he nudged it so it was directly on the sensitive spot. I felt my whole body relax into the torment and pleasure. My mind went entirely blank. I could feel him move now, pumping into me slowly, grinding upward, but it was almost a distant feeling. I was consumed by an all-over body sensation, as if my entire body were one clit, and I was about to come everywhere.

I could feel the points of extreme sensation: nipples, ass, pussy, clit. My mouth was help open wide and invaded. My arms were tied down. My neck was gripped and held.

I came.

My body seized with the pleasure. Every part jerked into a huge contraction, then pulsed with wave after wave of pleasure. I felt his angle shift, and he began pounding me, pushing through the orgasm to make me feel his cock and the fake one in each orifice pressing in unison as his weight pressed the dildo inside me. I came again. I felt him come, huge spurts of hot come in my ass.

He slid out of me. But he wasn't finished. He was voracious, and attacked me. He smacked my breast hard, then the other one, until sparks of pain leapt behind my eyelids. Then crouched between my legs. He pulled the dildo out fast and slammed his fingers into me, pressing up and curling against the roof of my vagina. I began to come again.

I wanted the clamps off my nipples—they hurt so much now, but there was nothing I could do, so I let the pain sink through me. He was banging against my cervix, against my g-spot, and now I was squirting. I could feel the hot liquid all over my thighs. I entered the trance-like state that I attain when this happens to me. When I've come so much and so hard that I gush come. I become the orgasm. But he still was not satisfied. He rubbed his hand against the wetness, then pressed the whole thing inside—pop—until he was fisting me.

I cried out, but was no longer capable of resistance or thought. He jammed his fist into me—not removing it, but pressing again and again, hard against me. I was coming and coming, gushing, exploding, with waves of dark painful pleasure.

And then I was in some odd dark place, semiconscious only. I knew he pulled his hand out, that he licked me some more, that I came again, that he unclamped my nipples and sucked them hard through the agony of the returning bloodflow. I knew he removed the gag, and wiped my face, and untied my wrists, and removed the blindfold. But I was not truly cognizant of what was happening. I was somewhere else.

While the camera whirred around me, capturing the sight of me, I was lost in sensation. Still coming in my mind. Then I was asleep.

** The next morning I awoke to many aches and pains. My breasts hurt, my ass, my pussy. I looked down in the early grey light and saw bruises atop the scrawled words. My nipples were dark red and so tender I knew clothes would hurt them. I was sticky and the muscles in my jaw and shoulders were tight. I rolled over slowly, and he was watching me, smiling.

First, he told me to take a hot bath while he made breakfast. We ate pancakes and drank coffee in companionable silence. Then he told me to lay on the bed, naked. I didn't really feel like my aching body could do more sex, but I complied.

He gave me a long, luscious massage. He rubbed coconut oil all over my body, into each ache and bruise. When I looked down, the inked words were still on my skin, gleaming in the morning light.

He opened my legs and gave me long slow kisses on my clit, and then pushed two fingers inside me and rubbed. He gently rubbed a nipple with his other hand, and I came softly.

When I finished, he reminded me of our trip to Madison that night. I was stunned. He had meant that?

He said he wanted to prepare me for the event. So he crouched between my legs, and carefully shaved the day old stubble from my pussy. While he was down there, he licked me some more.

Then he said it was time to collect on one of the contractual words he hadn't pursued the night before. "Which one?" I asked.

"Double," he said.

"But..." He had double penetrated me. Wasn't that what he meant?

He explained. "Actually, I want to double fist you."

I was stunned once more. He had referenced this before, even tried it once or twice in a cursory way. But I thought it was not possible.

He told me to lay back and relax.

** That night I was anxious and nervous, but utterly relaxed in my body. He had not been able to get both fists inside me, but had a great deal of fun trying, and my body was humming from a surfeit of orgasms.

He had massaged me, petted me, licked me, pampered me.

And now, he was evidently going to share me. He told me to put on the black lace bra, garter belt, stockings, and panties that he'd brought along to the hotel. He told me to wear longlasting red lipstick.

Then he laid me on the hotel bed, blindfolded me. He wrapped my wrists and ankles in cuffs. He tied the ankles down so I was spread open. My wrists he linked together and tied above my head. "If you really had to, could you get out of these cuffs?" he asked.

I tried. "Yes."

"Let me see," he ordered.

I fumbled with the clasp, but was able to unbuckle my hand.

"Good," he said. "Because you should never leave someone tied up, but I'm going down to the hotel bar now. Get some rest, if you can." He kissed me, and left.

I didn't think I could rest, I was so keyed up. But after half an hour I became bored and dozed. I awoke to the sound of the door opening.

"She's right in here," I heard my husband say.

"Oh yeah," I heard another voice. A slightly higher timbre, a huskier tone. "She looks so hot like that."

"She is hot," said my husband.

"How am I supposed to do this? Does she want it?" The other man's voice spoke directly to me. "Do you want this? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," I said.

My husband explained. "I'm going to sit in this chair over here. I'll take photos—don't worry, I'll leave your face out of them. You can do as you wish with her—anything that is written on her skin. But you have to make her come. She should enjoy it. If you can't make her come, I'll help her, otherwise I just watch. Oh, and if you've never done something before, like say fisting..."

The other man's breath caught in a small gasp.

"...then I'll teach you how to do it so you don't hurt her. OK?"

** Afterward I looked at all the photographs. Here was my husband paddling me, here writing the word LICK. Here were my nipples sucked into clear tubes, then my pussy was being pumped taut. Here was the word SLUT imprinted by the force of the paddle across the other words written on my skin. Here my husband was clamping my nipples, there he pressing his cock into my ass. Here was a photo of my mouth stretched wide around the gag, there was one of my face as I came.

And here were photos of a tall sandy blond-haired man, about 30 years old, doing similar things. His cock in my mouth, in my pussy. His hands on my nipples, in my hair. His hand pressing the glass handle of the flogger into my ass, so I look like I have a suede tail, my husband holding my hand as he watches.

And here were the photos of the shorter, stockier black man, with his cock in my ass, his hand on my clit, his arm buried wrist deep in my cunt. There was my husband leaning in to see more closely.

And here were the photos of the older bald white guy with the huge cock. He was slapping my bound tits, tugging the chain between the clamps, inserting the plug, fucking me doggie style, my husband watching.

Here were the photos of my pussy filled with so much come it overflowed, it gushed out, into my husband's mouth.

Through all the photos, the words were marked onto my skin: PINCH, BIND, SPANK.

I can still see them now, faintly. The words are still there.