I was under the impression a blindfold was simply deployed to steal my vision and keep me on edge, to anticipate what was coming next, or where Miss Janet was in regards to me, or what toys she had at her disposal. It did all of that, of course, but it absolutely heightened my senses elsewhere with my sight gone.
They bit hungrily, craving the thin flesh of my hard cock and bound balls. All told, Miss Janet informed me that she placed 18 total clothespins on my head, shaft and balls. Her praise kept me focused, not wanting to complain verbally or groan in anguish.
She flicked the clothespins with her forefinger and giggled when I would moan or try to wiggle my cock and balls away from her strikes. The second I settled into a pain on one specific pin, another would get flicked or pulled. I didn’t care to use either safeword, even with the current pain, I feared it might get worse. Still, as if Miss Janet could read my mind, when something really started to burn, she would place a vibrator of some sort on my adorned cock and make me forget all about the decorations.
“One of the first things you mentioned to me was how much you loved ball-gags” she said in a monotone, low voice that I strained to hear “and how you wanted to try everyone I have…” her voice was firm.
I nodded my head. Ball-gags were a first love. Their shine, how they look between lips, the drool. My cock hardened at the thought of my first ball-gag.
“Yes, that’s true Mish—”
The rubber ball spread my jaw wide and settled into my mouth before I could finish my sentence. My cock could have burst, an explosion of ejaculate and clothespin shrapnel covering the floor.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The way she spoke was somehow syrupy and smooth, and almost lacked intrigue, as if she were bored. I loved it.
I tongued the gag, tasting the rubber and whimpered into the mouth filler. I bit down on it to test its flexibility and tried to widen my mouth to give the sides of my lips some relief from the leather straps.
That’s when the clothes pins began to be removed. Miss Janet’s perfectly manicured nails began to caress my hard cock as she didn’t just open the pin and remove it, but slapped it off with a leather riding crop. An audible yell came from behind my now gagged mouth, which would explain why I was gagged in the first place. Not because I *wanted* to be gagged, but because audible yells of pain needed to be muffled. She wasn’t in the business of giving me what I wanted. She was going to deploy my needs in a way that I disliked them. You love ball-gags? Good, then you’ll get to wear one only because I can’t have you yelling like a bitch.
Every clothespin that was slapped off sent searing pain to the direct bit of skin that was now regaining blood flow. My struggles away from the crop were met with laughter, and a soft, tip of the finger swirl around the underside of my cock head. I was betraying myself, struggling only made my cock more hard as I was reminded of the hogtie I so lovingly was placed in. Miss Janet’s touched soothed the pain a little, as I was ready to blow.
“All done” she said nonchalantly, and pumped my cock soft and casual, with the same rhythm up my shaft and back down. I was ready to come, and as such asked (albeit gagged) for permission. I couldn’t wait for the release.
“Mai I come Miftriss Shenet?”
The hand was gone, followed by a hard slap to my now purple bound balls, and an “owwww phuck” from my drooling, ballgagged lips. I struggled and strained my neck to see where she was going. The pain from my balls sent waves of discomfort into my stomach as Miss Janet simply sat back down at her kitchen island and went back to work.
This was an obvious test, I had concluded. I wiggled very little in my hogtie, and drooled immensely. My cock had gone flaccid as a direct result of my prolonged abandonment. Any moans or groans of displeasure brought on by my muscles cramping and becoming sore was met with a “shhhh” from Miss Janet, as if I were in a library and talked too loudly.
At some point, I began to feel annoyance. I didn’t drive all the way here to be ignored, she provided no information to me, and I dare not speak up, not like the gag would let me anyways. But, the emotion remained: the hogtie was amazing, but I was becoming bored. I let out a loud sigh, closed my eyes and tried to rest my head. She must have been pleased with my resilience. My eyes were closed for a mere minutes when I heard her footsteps approaching me, my balls becoming free from their restraint, and a hard, plastic ring replacing the fabric. The cage soon followed, encasing my cock and locking it away before it could even think of getting hard again. And it tried to get hard, the thought of an almost complete stranger *locking away my cock in chastity* was as exciting as it could get.
“I’m very impressed with your submission and obedience. Most of my new toys want out of the hogtie the minute I ignore them. Of course, that still doesn’t earn you a reward. It’s not even five o’ clock yet.”
The blood returning to my limbs as the ropes loosened their grip on my extremities filled me with a sensation of pins and needles. I collapsed to the ground in fatigue, not realizing what bondage would leave me feeling like. My gag remained in my mouth as I ran my fingers over my delightful ropemarks, as if they were a brand that marked me as a piece of property. I smiled around the leather straps. My cock stiffened and strained in its new plastic prison. I was insatiably aroused and wanted nothing more than to orgasm in my hogtie, but it was apparent that would be put on hold. When the gag was removed, I loosened my jaw and tried to come up with something to say, but I couldn’t. I was in new territory, a complete amateur despite all my teenaged internet surfing. Porn never showed you what happened after the sub was untied and denied orgasm.
“Those clothes pins hurt more coming off then going on…” I blurted out as I stretched my jaw, and got to my wobbly and unbalanced feet.
“I have more work to do, so until 5 you’re going to have to let me work, and not distract me. As much as I would like to uncage that cock and edge you for hours, I should finish this up so I can edge you all weekend.”
I stammered out an incoherent response. Surely I would get to come sooner rather than later. When I approached Miss Janet and her offering of water, the brass lock keeping my cock imprisoned rattled off the plastic. I blushed.
“I certainly can’t be distracted by that sound either. So, we’re going to have to find something for you to do until five. The plastic box on the end table has 4 matching leather cuffs. I’m sure you know how they work. Put them on, leave the locks open…”
I knew immediately there was more bondage in sight. I should absolutely have expected that, but I was already starting to wonder if there would be any downtime, relaxation between the bondage and bdsm.
The leather cuffs were warm and soft, of higher quality and clearly an expensive purchase, much better than anything I would buy off of some Chinese knockoff website. While admiring and locking myself into the restraints, I hadn’t noticed Miss Janet has slipped off her stool. My ears heard the new piece of furniture before my eyes witnessed it. The dragging, rattling resonance of the metal, rickety cot was ushered into the room by the backpedaling, heavy set woman.
It was 8 feet long and 3 feet wide, the springs had long ago lost the fight for firmness. I was instructed to get on the shoddy bed, with my weight now asking questions to the cot, the cot answered in creaks and moans.
I laid down carefully, any sudden movements might bring the whole bed crashing down. My arms were stretched out to each metal post, a chain was locked to my cuffs and then tethered to the post. Miss Janet repeated the bondage for my legs, as I was now spread eagle, fixed tight, and naked.
My cock strained in it’s plastic prison. I thought I was going to burst through the plastic when Miss Janet tapped the CB6000 with her manicured nails and gave it a kiss, her tongue slipping through the peehole and tasting my dripping precome.
I was pleasing Miss Janet, I didn’t have to ask and she didn’t have to tell me. Once she slipped her red thong down to her ankles and stuffed them in my mouth, I could surely taste her approval. Spitting them out wasn’t anything I would ever think of doing, but the packing tape wrapped around my head a dozen times took away that freedom. I groaned, gags are meant to be beautiful. This was degrading, and made worse by the insertion of earplugs, stealing my hearing; and the latex hood now encasing my head in a rubber hug, stealing my sight. I wiggled and groaned, even the cot couldn’t be heard underneath me.
The final piece was inserted into my ass. The vibrating prostate massager kept me buzzing all afternoon in my bondage.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5zdsvs/my_weekend_in_philadelphia_pt_ii_mf_bondage_femdom
Can’t wait for part 3!
Excellent reading…thank you!