SlavesofMistressDespoiler

by Bruce McLachlan

  Acting capriciously, a booted foot lifted up and settled onto his chest. The sole and heel pressed in to crack waxen fields underfoot. With a sadistic lethargy, she turned the heel and made him squirm as it dragged at his skin like a rotating pinch.

  Stepping back, she used her pointed toe to flick and rustle the pegs. The captured pinches were revived with new levels of wrath at being disturbed.

  “Enjoying the taste of that underwear, slave?” she asked wickedly, and continued her hassling nudges and sweeps.

  While he winced and choked, she drank in his dirge and then began to remove the baleful instruments. Their lengthy companionship caused them to be all the more vicious in response to their flight.

  Setting the pegs back in the bag, she started unfastening the restraints and then nudged him in the flank with a pointed toe of jet fabric.

  “Turn over and put this under your belly,” she ordered and dropped a pillow beside him.

  He struggled and managed to roll over. His body was weak from its confinement and torment. Lying down on the thick cushion, he put his stomach to it and remained silent upon the floor.

  Pain filled his hand as she stepped onto it. The platform sole pressed down with increasing weight with his fingers trapped beneath. It was a capricious act of sadism. The Mistress was letting herself succumb to wanton acts of brutality as she explored this new realm of devilish delights.

  “Mmmm, I could just crush this right now, couldn’t I, slave?” she asked.

  “Y…yes, Mistress,” he said, the gag making the words near incomprehensible.

  “I can do anything I want to you,” she said, speaking more for her own benefit than his.

  “Yes, Mistress,” he repeated.

  He winced and shuddered, trying to keep still, her increasing force making his face shrivel while she studied his travail. Whimpering into the gag, trying to form words to betray his concerns, he thought that his bones would snap from such mistreatment.

  “What did you say?” she quizzed gruffly.

  He whined and burbled incoherent and muted pleas. He was sorely tempted to try to get her off. He was not restrained and had such an option available to him, but he was held in check by his desire to submit.

  “You are trying to tell me what to do? You are trying to give me orders, slave?” she growled.

  Lynn applied a jolt of extra pressure that made him gasp aloud from the ferocity.

  “Am I not the Mistress here? You are my slave to do with as I want! Do you question that authority?”

  He shook his head virulently from side to side. Lines of saliva swung from his lips as he tried to deny the accusation for fear of its consequences. His other hand scratched upon the timbers of the floor and then the free hand darted to help the other. He stopped short and then jumped back when she added new weight. His free extremity was baffled as to how to act.

  “So despite me telling you to be quiet, you disobeyed,” she spat.

  Lynn stepped from the punished extremity. She left him to flounder and nurse the injured digits as his free hand at last found a task to perform.

  “I can see I shall have to be more firm with you, teach you to respect me as you do Mistress Despoiler,” she announced, and a slight kick caught him in the bicep.

  “Put your arms along your sides…slave,” she ordered.

  Lynn moved to the selections of implements so she might make choices to amuse herself and torment her entrusted possession. Her heels dropped on either side of his arms and she squatted down, facing his rear. The feel of her gloss-sheathed behind settling into his upper back and compressing his chest was a sublime one.

  It was hard to breathe. Her weight upon him had his chest fight the burden. Crushed into the pillow, it elevated his rear a little, suspiciously opening him to attention there. Her legs folded back and the heels dug in near his armpits. The patent leather leaned heavily to his arms, trapping him beneath her thighs so that he was again powerless to defy her.

  With his face against the ground, he wheezed through his nostrils and felt her shift her weight slightly as she fetched some anonymous device. The vinyl layer dragged at his skin, making him yearn to adore it.

  There was a hum of displaced air and one of the straps fell onto his rear. It sent a ripple through the soft tissues and then a peg snatched a pinch of skin in the warm rectangle it had implanted. The bruised flesh reviled this addition to him.

  “What do you say?” she asked firmly.

  Swallowing for strength, he formed the words. The reply hissed out because of her weight upon him and was distorted by the gag so that it was muffled and almost unintelligible. If the text were not already known, it would have been incoherent.

  “Thank you, Mistress Lynn.”

  “Do you want another?”

  “Yes, Mistress Lynn,” he replied with muted tones, knowing that to deny was to inspire retribution.

  “Then say it. And say it each time, slave” she added, her words flecked with excitement and happiness.

  “Thank you, Mistress Lynn. May I have another, Mistress Lynn,” he grizzled.

  The strap fell into his thigh with a stern swat. The applause rang in his ears as he set lose a minor yowl.

  “Be polite, slave!” she corrected.

  “Thank you, Mistress Lynn, may I please have another, Mistress Lynn,” he announced over the gag, hoping that this would be enough to sate her wish to crush him under her will.

  In immediate response, another stroke was applied and a peg followed it. His tongue rubbed against the material of her underwear. He shuffled his legs, his toes wringing upon each other as the kiss of the strap faded.

  “Thank you Mistress Lynn, may I please have another, Mistress Lynn,” he groaned.

  As requested, the strap fell with a severe clap before the peg was snapped into its targeted spot and sowed pinches in the fertile and raw region. After his obligatory gratitude and petition for more, another came. The Mistress made the skin sore with a heavy-handed swat of the strap and then added a peg to the tenderised spot.

  Snapping a full selection about his buttocks, she moved onto his inner thighs. These afflictions caused him to splay his legs all the wider, despite the promise of opening more of himself to attack. Any movement made the wooden tools wiggle and increase their effects. Grunting and whimpering under her, his legs slithered and wriggled against the floor as the woman rode atop him and continued to brutalise him with elation.

  Each little wooden maw contributed to the grander symphony of his travail, and he was gurgling with frustration and distress once she had installed them all. His entire lower region reverberated with the combined potency of the devices.

  Another solicitation of his torment was made and his voice encountered trouble in asking for the continuing torment.

  “No, you cannot,” she replied firmly, and set aside the strap.

  The sigh of relief was meagre because the pain of the many pegs was thumping in his flesh. Lynn shifted back and turned him over. He was bent over the pillow to let her rear hang over his head, the gloss sheet stretched tight across it, impermeable to air and slavering attentions. His belly was slightly elevated and this kept the pegs from being dislodged and let them continue to gather in power. They were well out of his reach because his hands lay pinned to the ground by her shins.

  The vision of her pert cheeks loitered for a moment and his reflection was distorted in its dark mirror. His exhales upon the close material created clouds of brief steam that faded in moments. The sheet stretched and rippled with the play of her muscles as she folded her legs back into place and locked his arms to his sides.

  Without warning she dropped and access to air was instantly lost. Smothered, he fought his bonds as her weight crushed his face. The skirt was a near impenetrable wall. Scant rasps of air escaped at the sides as she continued her task by lighting the candle and pouring wax onto him. The assault made him sound his suffering into her buttocks.

  His nose was painfully squashed into th
e cleft. The gag was pushed to the back of his throat and his face burned from deprivation because he was made to squander precious oxygen on his squeaks of anguish. Fighting against her, his war grew more fervent as he was subjected to long denial. Desperation caused the wildest paroxysms that could in no way affect his sultry load.

  A brief rise let him snatch breath, and as pleas rose with his recovery, she dropped back into position and continued. His legs kicked and flailed wildly as she smothered him with a muttered laugh.

  After another long session, she arose again. His face was streaked with sweat, tears, and lines of saliva. The cocktail of fluids also marked an oval collage upon the vinyl sheet.

  The Mistress removed herself from his form and left him wheezing on the floor with his face flushed and hot, and his arms aching. He wanted to try to get the pegs off the underside of his legs and rear, but to attempt it would no doubt compound his punishments. So, he was forced into accepting them.

  All hope of being spared further indignity was shredded when he heard the familiar snap of latex gloves being drawn onto her slender digits and thereby replace the old set.

  The soft sucking pop of the lid coming free of the Vaseline sounded and a scoop was stolen. Opening the crease of his rear, she took hold of the base of the plug and gave a swift tug. Yanking it out, the swiftness of its flight had him buck with a sudden spasm of shock.

  In its passing she applied the thick gelatinous sludge. Lynn reached under and eased it into him. Her fingers skipped briefly into his rear to sow the jelly both inside and out as he murmured at the trespass. The fingers retreated and took up a new weapon, and when the tip of one of the large dildos touched him, his thoughts went cold. Vaseline wasn’t good for the toys, but she either didn’t know that or didn’t care.

  “Let’s see how you like a nice big cock stuffed into you,” she hissed with clear excitement.

  His eyes widened as she again swung a leg over him to straddle his torso. Capturing his listless arms, the gloss fabrics rippled over his vision like clouds of stretched ebony.

  Leaning down, Lynn trapped him with her legs and took up the defiling rod. A pitiless shove pressed it to him and the grip on its base manoeuvred it in churning circles. Lynn drilled it into him and forced open his sphincter so she might bury it. He croaked and whimpered with shock while biting to the gag as she made him more amiable to it.

  “Come on, slave. Take it! You know you want it!” she chuckled, working the flesh and loosening the opening.

  With a final forceful shove, the wide intruder slithered deep. It slid on his tracts, filling him so acutely that he choked with wanton shock. His eyes bulged wide and his vision was filled with the image of her haunting rear.

  “There, that’s it,” she purred.

  With a steady methodical shuffle, she started to delve into his interior, lethargically diving from root to tip, shoving it the very limit of his tracts as he moaned aloud. The violation was acute and wonderful, a bizarre mixture of pain and pleasure, unclassifiable as either. It tore him between petitioning for more and begging her to cease.

  The manipulation of the toy continued and as an added affliction, a peg was grabbed and set free. It caused a burst of pain to fill the pinch and the surrounding tissue.

  Lynn reached under his tensed legs and another was removed, and another. Her sodomy of him with the bulbous phallus was being conducted with the simultaneous spikes of woe brought from removed clothespins.

  Her legs clutched tightly to him and her rear settled to crush and suffocate as his throes manifested with more strength. The vinyl mounds assisted the gag in hiding his hardship as the steady ravaging rolled on. Trapped beneath her, he was slowly stripped of the baleful apparatus and his tunes of calamity were cast into a muffling rear. His hands strained to soothe the pinches but could not reach up enough. His only free limbs were his legs and they could do nothing to help him.

  When her rump peeled its damp vinyl sheath from his fevered countenance, he hauled in air. In place of the terrible bites of the pegs came the spark of a lighter. It was touched to the candle and once more, the molten issue began to gather.

  Lynn’s hands had turned from the deeply inserted staff and so he used his muscles to try to force out the interloper. The wide pole emerged with a steady slide, only to be halted in its travels when her gloved hand clapped to the base.

  “And where to you think you are sending this?” she questioned, her hold keeping it on the very verge of expulsion.

  “Mistress Lynn, please, no more,” he implored through the gag, the words all but insensible.

  “Silence slave,” she purred, and was clearly glad to have heard his distress.

  Defeating his innards, she crammed the length back in. His sputters of protest were lost when the smoothed hillocks of her rear drifted down to entomb his face.

  The horrendous phallus drove into him on pounding drives to simulate rape by some gargantuan manhood. Lynn then dripped wax onto his belly and thighs to slowly coat him with searing kisses.

  The renewed struggles to escape seemed even more amusing to her. The rodeo ride he offered was one that revealed just how fiercely he was being scorched by her acts. The dribbles into his inner thighs made the lurching increase to new and rabid levels, the searing drizzle into the already tender and well-punished zone extracting fresh and energetic rejoinders.

  She coated his skin with the solidified crust of the candle but eventually she denied herself access with any new tilts of the rod because his skin was all but caked. There were just no more chinks to misuse. Stopping her steering of the dildo, she drew herself up once more to let him grab new breaths. He was utterly defeated by her viciousness and just lay where he was.

  While her captive recuperated, Lynn set the candle aside and without pity she fell back onto his features to cut off the sudden emerging words of protest. Continuing to steer the cruel lever with both hands, she operated it with malice, churning his rear and occasionally jabbing deep. With a forceful pull, she hauled it out and let his bruised orifice briefly close before having to succumb to powerful penetration once more. Yanking it out again, she set the huge sceptre aside and forced the butt plug back in. The milder device was welcomed for it meant that the desecration was over.

  With the insertion of the cone, she removed herself from his chest. Standing up and straightening her dress with tugs to the hem, the short skirt dropped just over the tips of her thighs. He simply remained in place, breathing in fits, occasionally giving way to coughs as the erratic operation of his lungs steadied.

  “Now, you have some chores to do,” she announced.

  Lynn removed the long whip from its peg on the wall. The leather coil was segmented like the body of a worm. The handle slithered to a small tip whose touch brought about the most terrible consequences.

  His jaws were aching from the gag and the pounding beat in his rear was terribly distinct. The butt plug was causing more discomfort than usual, largely due to the harsh intrusion of the dildo.

  The myriad contusions he had sustained divulged themselves with their steady cadence, but he was not to be granted rest.

  “I understand that you have a uniform to wear when you serve as a maid. Is this correct, slave?” she questioned, and started to draw the coil of the weapon through her fist.

  He nodded despondently. His motions were weak, like those of the dying

  “Then put it on, slave,” she demanded, and swung outward with an underhand flick. The weapon cracked dangerously close to him and the near hit made him jump at the ferocious snap that echoed through the room.

  With a hiss of exertion, he fought for an erect stance. He swayed and propped himself up against the wardrobe for a moment before continuing to obey. Opening it, he hurriedly began to don his attire. He did not care that she was studying his routine. Her discipline had brought swift obedience. With scratching fingers, he quickly removed the layer of wax. After splitting it, he dragged it from his flesh in broken clouds. The fine hairs t
hat his shaving had missed or neglected were torn free with it. Some vigorous rubbing set loose the last stubborn particles and patterns of rosy splotches were left behind to mark the former sites of effulgent excess.

  He covered his shaven legs with fishnet tights. His feet were sealed within laced patent ankle boots whose skyscraper heels were exceedingly uncomfortable to work in. The small platform that eased the size of a heel for the Mistress was denied the slave. He had to endure their full discomfort.

  A latex dress slid down over his body and was straightened and smoothed into position. The midnight garment was tight about his chest and formed into a skirt that dropped to mid-thigh. Opera gloves rolled up his arms and a small white apron was tied about his waist. It felt good to be attired. His near nakedness made him more vulnerable to Lynn’s capricious vengeance.

  He lifted the identity tag from the neck of the dress and straightened his collar as he did so. He felt transformed, turned from an object of punishment into a being of servitude.

  Chapter Four

  The tight rolls of rubber held firmly to him, compressing his flesh, making him feel secure and snug. It was a second skin that reshaped him into an altogether new format of servitude.

  “Very fetching. Now get on your knees, slave,” she ordered and approached the slave as he wilted.

  Clenching his aching buttocks, he felt the butt plug. The sensation was a reassuring confirmation of his slavedom.

  With her stomach directly before his gaze, he watched the stretch and crinkle of the PVC with enthralment. Lynn unbuckled the gag and slid the sizeable ball from his lips. The relief at being able to finally close his maw was immense and he licked his lips with cheer once the thong was extracted.