gangbanged in bondage

But she couldn’t take much of the shock, so, in spite of her
arousal, she would arch he naked body, pulling the weight away
from the box. Back and forth she would sway, slumping from
exhaustion, moaning into her gag when she heard the clank of the
metal plates making contact, then steeling herself for the shock
to her cunt. Her body glistened with sweat.

Her hair flailed about her as she shook her head and bit down on the rubber penis
in her mouth and willed herself into a balanced posture.

bondage until dawn

“Is it dawn yet?”

“It’s dawn.”

I feel a gentle pressure and a soft snap as a switch is thrown. I give
a cautionary tug. I tingle. Not just my ass, but I tingle, as if
shocked. The lurch rocks the weights, and my chest is blazing with
erotic fire. The buzzing stops. Tug. Pull. Yank! Nothing. Buzz.

“I’ll be hanging a little weight on that,” a cold voice emphasized by a
cold, dispassionate tweak on the clamp. I gasp, sharply. “I wouldn’t
jump around so much if I were you.”

A shock ran, electrifying my spine, as a *heavy* pull followed. I felt
a cold piece of metal swing against my breast, above (no, that’s below,
I’m upside- down) my nub, sparking and spitting with every heartbeat.
I moan, a wail sailing in my ear. The tears flow freely, and the tape
starts to give again. And it holds fast after giving precious ground.

The hell throbs down to a bearable onrush. My mind swims. Febblely, I
reach with my hands, knowing that they will never relieve the pain.
Bound as they are at elbow and wrist, I surprise myself by swinging the
coarsely past my buttocks. Firm hands, cool with sweat, grab the
flailing limbs. By my uncovered ear, I hear, “That is a no-no.”

Gasp. I clench in response, but too late. The head of the phallus is
already past the spinchter. The lubricant steal away what little grip
I had, and whatever it is is now inside my ass. It is cunningly
designed, with a groove near the base (pressing against my previously
warmed cheeks) preventing my natural reflex from expelling it. I bear
down, to no avail.

There is the faint tickle of rope brushing the cheeks, then my hands
are hauled back and down, tied to the attaching rope. I tug and feel a
push within myself, pivoting at the hole. I experiment, forgetting
completely the deep pulses from the front.

Suddenly, the pressure is snapped away. In response, a loud cry and a
sharp convulsion. That nipple is still tingling when the clamp is
applied to its twin. Slowly, like an evil vise. Knowing better than
to let it rest on only the nub, I try to force it into me. My owner
knows these tricks. The other one received mercy; a generous pinch of
flesh laid within its jaws. This one burned white hot as the jaws came
to rest on the erect, throbbing brown nipple.

Tears welled within my eyes, denied by the tape. I felt the tape start
to lose its hold, the tearing sensation as it parted ways with my
eyelids. Then it stopped. I stil could not open my eyes, and the hood
would admit no light even if I could. In agony, in frustration, in
pain, I thrashed as far as the bonds would let me.

Sixt–sensation! The lightest of touches, but something touched me. I
arch my back in a vain attempt to reach someone, something. I feel
nothing nothing more. A sigh escapes my nostril, audible in my inner
ear. That’s it! I can still hear myself, even if I can’t speak. I
wait for another eternity, then count twenty heartbeats, and hum a
moan.

My left ear buzzes with the sound of a thousand scratches. A jet of
cool air rushes to cool my sweat-coated skin. Then a warm, moist
feeling traces some shape. Wet sounds, followed by a sugar-sweet,
playful-cat-sneer voice, “Our little pet is not quiet, is umm? Our
little pet wanna moan, is um?” The tongue flicks in to touch the hairs,
not even the skin. It flicks again, this time at the lobe. Wet,
moist, lovely lips caress the node, tugging gently. The tongue flicks
again. I moan, arch my back and curse my hair.

My eyes are taped shut, but so long ago that I have come to accept that
my eyes no longer open. I faintly remember my discomfort, my mouth
straining at an object that filled my mouth from within yet still
touched my lips. Once this caused me to salivate uncontrollably, much
to my owner’s dismay. Hanging me by the spreader bar caused the
spittle to back into my mucous membranes, stinging, burning. But my
mouth is now dry, and I have no sensation of fighting an object that
gave yet does not tear.

Occasionally, I would feel the slightest of breezes on my skin, the
most sensitive part, the ones constricted by clothing by day. I know
not what is their cause, nor do I feel them on my face. I hear
nothing, and have heard nothing for an eternity and then some. What
once was warmth, and the soft tendrils of lambswool that encased my
head have become soaked with my sweat, the salty juices of excitment
and anticipation. After time, a concept that now exists only in my
mind, the water and the wool have warmed and now are my skin.

Dodds walked back to her supine form and experimentally wiggled each of
the plugs where they were attached to those outlandish looking
breasts. The anonymous but shapely figure within moaned with delight (
or frustration ), but did not move visibly. He looked over the
connections at her mouth, the air hose, the seal of the stomach tube,
the tubing from her rear. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he
began to spread old newspapers around her rigid form and the panel.

This done, he wheeled over the other equipment dolly that had stood
waiting in the corner for this very moment…

Apparently the ear plugs, covered by the helmet’s thick pads, prevented
her from hearing, for she gave no sign.

When the glue had dried, Dodds guided her backward to the edge of the
slab, positioning her feet with care. He opened his glue can again,
and coated the entire back of her suit with the latex cement. When he
was satisfied with the job, he stood astride her body, and after
threading her enema tube through a small hole, slowly leaned her back
onto the slab.

Moving with care, he firmly pressed each portion of her body against
the layer of glue, permanently bonding her suit to the slab. A few
more touches of glue cemented her arms, hands, even each finger down to
the rigid platform.

For a few moments, he left the room. The distant sound of a car door
slamming was heard… …but within her rubber prison, Mandy heard
nothing. She squirmed a bit, marvelling at the wholly pleasant
sensation of being enveloped in a warm and slippery womb. The dildo
pushed in a bit as she moved, and she tried to encourage it. She found
that she could shift a few inches within the thick rubber suit. This
also had the pleasant effect of massaging her breasts within their
cups. It felt delicious, but it wasn’t quite enough.

The additions to the suit gave her a sexier, postmodern look. The
huge, rounded cones of her breasts jutting straight out, and the
mounded cleft between her legs, emphasized her female shape to the
point of caricature. She might be a modern store-window mannequin,
Dodds thought, but one that few window dressers would dare display.

With a sigh, he returned to his work. He got out a large tin of latex
glue and carefully painted-in Mandy’s outline upon the slab. While it
dried, he examined a set of hoses and fittings attached to the
equipment in the corner, handling them lovingly.

Dodds smiled grimly as he switched on the light. He paused inside the
door, gazing around the room in anticipation. The spraying equipment
stood ready in one corner of the room, the respirator in another. To
one side stood Mandy’s circular bondage board, a motorized, padded
wooden slab to which a slave could be fastened and rotated. He had
already prepared the table on which he would mount his specimen: in the
middle of the floor sat a large platform, tilted on bearings, like a
giant see-saw. A shaft connected under one side disappeared into a
large machine on the floor. The panel was nothing more than a full
sheet of 1″ plywood, over which he had laminated a thick black rubber
sheet with latex cement. He lay Mandy back upon the table, then
carefully chalked her outline on it.

Her heart thumped excitedly as they entered the elevator cage and she
wondered what further devious ideas Dodds had in store. The sexual
feelings she had just experienced were so strong, she knew it would not
take much more before she got off. They dropped like a stone to the
ground floor, then took the stairs to the basement.

The small amount of exercise thus far had already turned her suit into
a mild sauna, the silicone lubricant warming slowly to her body
temperature. She certainly couldn’t feel the slight chill of the
basement. At the foot of the stairs, they turned right, cueing her
that they had headed into the room she often used for enemas or other
watersports, as it had a sink and a floor drain. She had begun to feel
heavy and fuzzy-headed, and she wondered what drug Dodds had given her
this time.

Dodds watched the slow progress of the tube as he gently fed it into
her mask. When a taped mark on the tube reached the mask, he slid a
metal coupling along the tube until it seated in the mouth hole,
sealing the junction.

The stomach tube came out a small hole in the side of the fitting. All
that was left was to attach a small puffer bulb to a valve above the
breathing tube, and with a few pumps, the inflatable skirt of the
oxygen mask swelled and sealed against her face.

Dodds must have been finished, at least temporarily, as Mandy felt him
guide her to her feet, lead her by the hand out the door, then down the
hall.

She was surprised he hadn’t put boots or shoes on her, he usually
considered some kind of uncomfortable foot wear de rigueur with his
outfits.

Knowing Mr. Dodds, she was certain it wouldn’t stay unplugged.

“Now comes the difficult part, I’m afraid,” she heard faintly. He must
have been shouting, so that she could hear him through the thick helmet
and ear plugs. She felt something small and soft intruding in her
mouth.

“Swallow this,” she heard.

Oh, no, she thought. God damn it, not this. Please, I’ll throw up!

The soft thing pressed against the back of her throat. Whatever it
was, it wasn’t very big. Shit, she thought, a stomach tube?! She
could only feel it as a faintly detectable pressure, so numb was her
mouth and throat. Okay, remain calm, she told herself. He’s obviously
anesthetized your throat, you should be able to do this. It won’t be
much worse than deep throating George. She chewed on the end of the
soft rubber tube for a second, salivating a little, hoping to fool her
stomach that she was just swallowing food, like a long piece of
spaghetti.

She really had no choice, she realized, since he could force the hose
through her gag until she choked on it if he really wanted to.
Eventually, to her suprise, she managed to swallow the end of the tube
without even retching.

About the time she realized that something was very different about
that hood, he quickly pulled it over her head, and zipped the suit the
rest of the way, up the back of the hood.

He’s changed the hood! she thought. She knew he was perfectly capable
of it, for he was a first-rate rubber craftsman; he had even started
his own company to make rubber goods for other kinky folk.

She realized now that he had removed the suit’s original open-faced
hood, and replaced it with a totally enclosed helmet of the same
thickness. This one had soft pads over the eyes and ears, and what
felt like a surgical- style oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose.
She was certain, though, that any surgeon would have been horified at
the use this one was being put to. The zipper had pulled the hood
tight, pressing the pads into her eyes and ears, and she knew she would
be totally deaf until he removed it.

Finally, he removed the shoe from her mouth.

“Open wide,” he said, holding up an atomizer. She did as she was told,
hoping that whatever he had in mind didn’t taste too bad. The cool
spray was bitter, and made her mouth and tongue numb.

“Now swallow,” he added. She swallowed. He repeated the process twice
more. It didn’t suprise her when he stuffed something else into her
mouth. It was some kind of form-fitting gag made of plastic, that kept
her mouth open slightly, yet her teeth fit into it, and when it was
seated, it was quite comfortable. With her tongue, she could feel a
large hole though it.

“Get into that.” He said it loudly, so that she might hear through the
ear plugs. He pointed at a black pile of rubber on the bed. She
picked it up. She recognized it as her own. It was her thickest suit,
custom-fitted to her measurements, made from two laminated layers of
heavy weight latex, making it nearly an eighth-inch thick. She had
only worn it on a few occasions; while motorcycling, or when walking
outside in wet weather, and once in the summer sun when she had felt
particularly masochistic. It was ideal for keeping dry, as it had
attached feet, heavy gloves, an open-faced hood and a watertight zipper
like those used in diver’s suits. It was also the devil to put on,
since it fit skin-tight, and the thick rubber didn’t stretch easily.
As she handled it however, she felt something different about it.
Closer examination revealed that apparently, Mr. Dodds had made
extensive modifications to it.

“How could you?” Mandy scolded. “This suit cost me over a thousand
dollars! Just because you own half a dozen companies, and can afford
what ever exotic gear you like doesn’t mean I can! I expect
you…MMPh!”

Mr. Dodds had shoved the toe of a patent leather shoe in her mouth to
shut her up. “Now you listen to me, you little minx!” he said. “I
have gone to considerable trouble and expense to bring this little
circus to you, and I expect you to show the proper gratitude! As for
your precious suit, it isn’t as if it were the only one you have.
Maybe Kris Kringle will bring you a better one this Christmas, but only
if you’re a very good girl.”

He knew she hated to be called a girl.

“Now why don’t you save your tongue for what it is best at,” he added,
“and look over my work- you may find that wearing this suit will be
quite pleasurable.”

Mandy stared sullenly over the high-heeled shoe filling her mouth at
the strange suit in her lap.

There were now many small rubber bumps lining the molded breast cups.
Stranger yet, the breast cups were now huge rounded cones, hard and
heavy to the touch, and each had a small jack connector at the tip,
like chrome nipples.

The seat of the suit had also been heavily modified. There was a thick
dildo at the front of the crotch, with numerous little rubber fingers
above it. To the rear of the dildo was a reinforced hole in the
crotch.

The front of the crotch had another large, hard, and weighty addition
molded on, shaped roughly like an athletic cup. On the outside, it
looked like her natural mons, but greatly exaggerated. It too, had a
jack connector in the front.

Her favorite had been made into a “grope suit”, and a severe-looking
one at that. She stared at Mr. Dodds with renewed respect, and some
trepidation.

“Well? What are you staring at? Get into it!” he admonished.

She knew it could not be put on without lubrication, and Dodds must
have realized this, as he handed her a large jug of viscous fluid.
“Here, this is better than wasting a dozen tubes of KY. It’s the same
silicone stuff I sent you, so it won’t hurt the rubber.”

She poured a third of the thick, slimy liquid inside, and smoothed it
into every cranny of the suit. Then she liberally greased her body
with more of it, revelling in the sexual feelings it aroused as she
caressed her slippery body. The greasy goo felt warm when spread on
the skin, like expensive massage oil. Almost eagerly, she began to put
on the suit.

Dodds indicated that she should thread the hose from her butt plug
through the hole in the crotch of the suit. There was a plastic ring
on the hose that stopped the hose from coming any further out, and left
several inches of slack inside the suit.

Dodds seemed unimpressed with his butterfly, however. He did smile
appreciatively, even licked his lips suggestively, but he said nothing,
just waved her towards him where he sat on the bed next to yet another
pile of garments and gear. He held something up. It was a large
plastic butt plug, hollow, with big holes in it. It had a largish
hose attached. From her experience, Mandy thought that the hose was
too large, it looked like it would allow an awfully fast flow. It was
obvious what his intentions were, so she bent over obediently. When
she was suitably plugged, he motioned for her to sit down on the bed.
She did, with a little groan.

Tortured to orgasm

“Sure, you called to order me over to England! By the time I got back,
Flora was nearly out of her head wondering whether I was coming home.
Say, what have you done with the others? You know I’m going to have a
hell of a time handling Jason after this stunt of yours.”

“Now don’t worry, love, I’ve thought of everything. First of all, they
have their own problems to think about right now, I wouldn’t worry
about them. And secondly…. secondly, WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME,
SLAVE?!” He grinned slightly as she cowered at his feet. “Get into the
shower, you smell like a locker-room!”

She scooted, smiling very slightly to herself. Truth to tell, she was
a bit whiff, having sweated out untold hours tightly bound and laced
down, and rubber body suits were not known for their breathability.
She was grateful for the chance to get clean. She spent almost a half
hour under the steaming water, luxuriating in the needle spray and
wishing she had a shower massager, that she might relieve the sexual
tension she had built up over the last few hours. She seriously
considered masturbating only for a moment though, for she knew Dodds
could walk in at any moment, and he would be furious if he caught her.
He preferred his slaves to get their stimulation from whatever
“torture” he dreamed up… to rely upon him for release.

He smiled again. “How do you like my visit so far?” he enquired.

“Not bad… But you know, you’re going to make it damn hard for me to
play the domineering bitch, after being mistreated like this! Every
time we meet, it ends up like this- me groveling at your feet while you
dream up new, er, torments for me. I really wish you’d call before
dropping in. And you might at least have asked my permission to top my
slaves first.”

bondage fetish

Damn, that feels good! she thought. She couldn’t stand it any longer-
she had to have him. She wiggled and squirmed up against him, no
longer caring what he did to her, or how desperate she looked, only
wanting to be satisfied. Alas, it was not to be. He stepped back from
her. She could not move forward without strangling herself within the
tight helmet.

Then light blinded her as the suit’s hood was unlaced and removed.

Dodds had pulled out a small pair of scissors and was snipping away at
the rubber tape covering the rear zipper of the second suit. In a
minute he had it uncovered, and the remnants of glue and tape peeled
away. He unzipped this too, and let it fall to the floor, her
collected sweat streaming down her body.

Behind Kink Porn

“I don’t know about you, love,” he continued, “but I am ready for a
change.” He began untying the straps suspending her over the bed. “I
hope you have plenty of energy left,” he added, “you’re going to need
it.”

When he had her down from her elevated position, he freed her arms and
legs of straps, and stood her upright. Shortly, he had stretched a
strap from the top of her helmet to the top rail of the bed, forcing
her to stand straight.

Dodds smiled as he pulled the massager onto his hand. He moved towards
Mandy’s immobile form…

Without warning, Mandy suddenly felt a firm pressure on her crotch,
followed immediately by waves of powerful vibrations. She writhed in
new arousal, pushing her mound into the vibrations. She felt the warm
throbbing build within her, letting out a small squeal as she
approached her orgasm. As suddenly as they had started, the vibrations
ceased, and despite her efforts to complete it, she couldn’t quite
climax. She whined with frustration, all pretenses of pride
destroyed.

Bondage Porn

Mandy thought she heard a faint click that might have been the door
opening. She resolved not to act beaten, even though her tortured
waist had turned numb hours ago. Actually, she had found the whole
affair so far to have been rather pleasant, for although she might be
dominant and tough on her lover and slave, Flora, she became positively
week-kneed when faced with Mr. Dodds’ handsome face and perfect
etiquette. Despite his gentlemanly manners, he was the creator of the
most bizarre methods of fetishistic dominance Mandy had ever
experienced.

The appointed time approached. The girl stood in the same manner as before,
motionless. An old woman pushing a shopping trolley came along the path out of
the woods. She was immensly fat and wheezed. She stopped to mop her brow with a
filthy handkerchief. I looked at my watch, a minute to go, would the crone move
on or not? I was not sure that I cared. I rose to my feet and as I did so the
old woman regained her labours, for an instant I saw the old woman and girl
transposed, the girl watching as I lifted the skirt of the crone.

She arrived early too wearing the same clothes as the day before. She made no
recognition of my presence, her face remaining impassive. Here I should describe
her face, those piercing blue eyes, the jet black hair reaching down to her
breasts. I began to regret the choice I had made, I was sure that had I asked I
would have been permited to strip the girl naked, lie down with her and make
love. However I was simultaneously aware of the banality of this fantasy.

Behind Kink

Far from answering my questions, the call had increased them. How many
people were involved? What wer the functions of the “operator”. As for saftey I
was rather more worried than before. Zagreus was a son of Zeus who was lured
away with toys by the Titans who devoured him raw.

Kinky Blog Story

This was not what I had expected. I had suspected that I was to be asked to
participate in a scene, but had not anticipated that I would be require to
define it. In my mind the scene had not stopped at the point where it did and
had instead continued. After the removal of her undergarments the girl had
remained standing and I approched. Gently I placed my hands under the hem of her
skirt and raised it, touching her in intimate places. The girl remained
impassive as before. Then I left.

In the end of course the call was made. I phoned at 5pm precisely. The precision
of the icon which I had watched was such that it was clear that strict
accordance with instructions was appreciated.