by Laurie Mann
“Knickers - 3. Pubes - 3. Doughnut - 6. Write it down. Neatly now.”
Nothing else, no explanation but must be twelve strokes. Bottom clenched, too many, while pussy purred, too few. Simple mistakes, twelve is too harsh, surely. Not fair, I’m still learning and trying my best, you know that, don’t you? Squirmed all the way home. I don’t deserve twelve.
“You may undress and wait in the living room.” I may, like I had a choice when really there was none. So different, Madam orders, Rock suggests. Madam is harsh, Rock gentle. Am Madam’s because there’s no choice but Rock’s through choice. The waiting seemed long in the icy draught and I decided I preferred my modern house - no draughts. Shivered with the cold as well as anticipation. Only tape, not a fig leaf, distinguished me from Eve. My breasts yearned for a massage to warm and my nipples stood proud. I knew I mustn’t. I didn’t know why, just mustn’t, but Rock, did leave me so long and pussy’s excitement encouraged, but I was quick to stop when I heard his steps.
“You may remove the tape, slowly now.”
Surprised, I’d assumed that Rock would remove tape. My fingers trembled as my nails peeled the edge from pussy’s lips while I anticipated the pain. Had to force fingers to pull the tape against pussy to tug the hairs out. It hurt so much my fingers rebelled and stopped pulling. Tried from the top. Lifted the edge from my tummy. Easier this time but still I felt every individual one torn from my skin and needed all my willpower to make my fingers work. Knew I must hurt myself but while mind and fingers locked in combat, pussy smiled. Fraction by fraction the tape tore out more hair. Couldn’t look, my eyes were too full of tears anyway. Why not shave me? Why torture me? He knows what I like/need, that’s why. Skin felt tight and every single hair torn out meant more pain as I feared it would never grow back again. I’d never been plucked before and as I worried I needed the toilet except it wasn’t allowed. Only at allotted times. Rock’s eyes remained impassive but missed nothing.
“I think you may spread your legs now. Hands on ankles, if you please.”
Bent against my full bladder and my ankles seemed miles away as I squeezed the pain deep into my abdomen.
“Legs straight, if you don’t mind.”
‘If you don’t mind.’ And what if I did? I know, journal, I know. Locked my knees, struggled for balance then waited, always seem to be waiting. Blood filled my head as I coloured pink while my bladder felt fit to burst. Rock, now upside down between my legs ignored my pleading eyes as he inspected pussy through a magnifying glass. Tweezers slowly, painfully, clinically finished the job the tape had started. Imagined pussy larger than life, every tiny detail more closely seen than even I had, before Rock’s eyes. The humiliation was completed as pussy dripped unashamedly past my nose.
“Straighten, look in the mirror.”
Before me, my uncovered pubis allowed nowhere for pussy to hide. More naked than ever.
“I think it’s best kept that way, don’t you?”
“Yes, Rock.” I didn’t, but it must be, I know. Rock’s painful lesson was so much more poignant than Madam’s beatings. Oh, journal, even telling you of such pain and humiliation is so exciting. Can’t you tell me why? But wait ‘til I get back - something far more urgent calls. Yes, I know it’s forbidden, but I am only human.
Tuesday 9th February
I’m back. I know Tuesday isn’t my normal day to visit your pages but yesterday, well, let’s just say Rock won’t be pleased. Better still, keep it to ourselves. Now, where were we? Yes, I know.
His fingers caressed, gentler than expected, more like ants crawling, raising my hackles and goose bumps. Twitched, trembled, moaned softly as his exquisite touch travelled from my nape to thighs and knees. Tickling the back of my knees made me fight to keep them locked. He tickled my tummy and teased pussy but then ignored. His tongue, warm and moist, electrified and muscles twitched until it all became too much and I jerked away.
“Keep still.” Quietly but with no room for doubt.
More tongue and fingers teased as skin crawled, alive and tingling. Tensed, with eyes screwed tight, determined not to move but, the harder I tried the more it excited. Obey, mustn’t move but ....
Deliberate and gentle, too gentle, pussy ached, imploring the touch so spitefully denied. Nipples, proud and jutting, pleaded to be noticed. Mind and body, ecstasy and torture, craved for climax and welcome frustration. No choice, Rock’s property - he decides.
Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Don’t leave like this. Breath, hot on nipple but nothing else. Anticipation proved a stronger foe than touch as I looked while his tongue circled my nipple that begged the forbidden movement. Could only gasp as my nipple lunged on to his tongue to be sucked hard into his mouth. Teeth induced bolts of electric rolled my eyes as my breast squashed involuntarily against his face. OOOHHH, journal, must stop, be back soon.
Pussy pleased, not by Rock though! Twice in two days, journal, don’t tell, will you?
Hips ground as hands grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth hard to my breast. Surely he’ll understand my need? Of course he does, that’s why he ignores it, provokes it more with every touch.
“I told you not to move.” He’d gone, leaving me trembling, desperate fingers inching towards relieving pussy of all the pent up energy that both tortures and delights. Couldn’t let pussy win showdown for fingers or Rock would know. I can’t let him down. Pussy’s a strong battler but I had to resist.
Tender fingers guided my wrists together before binding with rope, much tighter than its softness hinted. A broom handle separated my ankles before he drew my hands high to ceiling ring. Doesn’t believe in specialised equipment, like Madam, prefers every day things and ropes. More personal, more fun, he says.
Rock heaved, after making a pulley in the rope and I was hauled onto tiptoe, stretched to breaking point making yet more fuel for pussy’s avarice. Rock watched, coffee in hand, while the strain slowly pulled my arms from their sockets, restricted my lungs to laboured gasps and created uncontrollable twitching. Pussy loved my distress, throbbed and sought attention with engorged lips and torrential love juice.
“Orgasms only with permission.” Rock murmured to himself, like an afterthought of little interest. Heart sank but bladder added another coal to pussy’s raging fire. Rock’s eyes devoured. I hate being scrutinised, stretched and humiliated by my blatant display of carnal desire.
He knelt, his finger hovered. Touch, rub, invade pleeeease. Arched my back and unashamedly forced pussy towards the finger that hurt so much with distance but will feel so good to touch. His tongue darted, cobra like, brushed my clit and stunned me rigid causing a stifled gasp as frustration overwhelmed. More brushes at regular intervals, so delicate yet so powerful. Tongue on nipples, so good but pussy’s need was more intense. Mustn’t, he’d said, only when allowed. Waiting felt impossible, must happen soon. Fingers rubbed clit, slipped inside and I couldn’t stop the onset. Fingers suddenly gone. No! Must make it happen but can’t, where is he? Stretched the ropes but only enticed pussy more. Couldn’t breathe, so hot and excited I couldn’t think. Oh, when will this torment end.
He was talking but I couldn’t concentrate, something about points in diary needing to be erased. Going to be beaten, no, bladder won’t hold, not against a beating when stretched so tight. Tears dripped to my breasts and dribbled towards nipples and I dreaded the power of my climax, when it’s allowed. If ?
Left alone, my trembling and violent shudders proved the torment of frustration and my desperately strained bladder. Points to be erased? How? Mind drawn like a magnet to bladder, impossibly full, while pussy vied for attention.
“Orgasm to order.” Rock thought aloud, a reminder that further antagonises.
Clit stroking sped up and drove to distraction. Couldn’t catch my breath, the sweat from my brow stung tearful eyes and my mind whirled as my arms strained to tear the rope f
rom the ceiling.
“You may orgasm on the count of ten. One.”
At last the end was in sight. Impossibly far off but at least in sight.
“Two.”
Pussy sensed end and drew even more pleasure from my pain.
“Three.”
Excitement rose to a premature crescendo. Control. Must wait. Must.
“Four.”
Count quicker, please, can’t wait.
“Five.”
Tensed as wrists pulled, legs cramped and I begged relief as my lungs gasped and the rising tension rumbled towards pussy.
“Six.”
“Face burned, lungs screamed as I quaked, so desperate to wait but more desperate for relief. Eyes pleaded and begged the next number.
“Seven”
Legs wobbled as climax approached too fast. Held it back, though, somehow. Had to.
“Eight.”
Waiting seemed impossible as I garbled my pleading.
“Nine.”
Nearly there, ‘ten’ please. No. Don’t wait. Pain, pleasure and hours of frustration flooded towards pussy but still ‘ten’ didn’t come. Left quaking ready to explode.
“Ten.”
Vesuvius finally allowed to erupt. Shooting stars dazzled as my climax raged on and frenzied on as pussy avenged frustration by violently bombarding missiles of pure ecstasy that stole the air from my lungs and the sense from my brain.
Only the humiliation of water thunderously cascading into the bucket between my legs dampened the euphoria. Or did it?
Hung like meat, breathless and barely conscious with Rock, distorted by tears but looking smug, seemingly distant as my brain attempted to clear the senses.
“Enjoy that, did you?” Even his tone mocked. Of course I bloody did, you bastard.
What have I done in giving my life to Rock? What else awaits? What when he decides to take me? Properly, I mean. Not just fingers and tongue. There’s more, journal, rules and things but for now just telling proves too much.
Doorbell? Panic stricken my eyes pleaded as Rock made for door.
“Got to eat, Princess. All this energy makes you hungry.”
What energy? He hadn’t used any - not his anyway.
Could see the door beyond Rock. Pizza boy, young and thankfully more interested in money. What if he’d looked and seen me? Hanging from ceiling, naked with pussy overcoming fatigue to register new interest. Wanted to look away but my eyes laser-locked onto the fresh face beyond Rock’s shoulder. Heart thumped. Please don’t let him look. Rock apparently totally unconcerned. Sighed with welcome relief when the door finally closed.
Appetising pizza aroma overcame the stench of urine from the pail, still between my legs and constantly reminding. Hunger pangs, no, not pangs, starving more like. Rock enjoyed his while I waited, even a morsel would have been nice. What about me?
A bright coloured box with one whole segment and five crusty edges, left on floor and tantalisingly out of reach. Tummy rumbled, taunted by eyes. I sagged to my knees and felt the pain of life return to my arms, still bound, as I crawled awkwardly with ankles spread towards the box. Instinctively, I knew I must eat like a dog and the tasteless stodge stuck to my thirst craved mouth, but at least it was food. Nice meals before but now this, not forever, I hope. Last time was bowls on floor as well. I want to be his slave, not his pet animal.
“Need to talk about points.” My bottom, forced high with my nose in the box, clenched. Exposed and vulnerable I knew about points from Madam. My jaw froze as I anticipated the fire. Twelve points in the diary, surely twelve fires. Couldn’t swallow.
“Expecting a thrashing, I see.”
“Yeth.” Crumbs spewed, adding to my humiliation.
“Thrashings are boring. Occasionally useful, I grant you, but boring. How many points was it?”
“Twelve.” Kept nose down, even as tummy knotted. What, if not a whipping?
“The total’s no good. Tells me nothing. I need to know what points were earned for what, if, I’m to trouble myself with your education.”
“Knickers - 3. Pubes - 3. Doughnut - 6.” Page was clear as day in my mind.
“That’s better. Remember in future. Think of them as bonus points.”
“Yes.” Such menace so softly spoken. Madam gets annoyed, I can hear it but not Rock, no annoyance or even irritation. Just, so powerfully matter of fact. You have to hear him to know what I mean.
“I think we’ll deal with them now. Wipe the slate clean. Give you the chance to start again. What do you think?”
“Yes.” What else? Can’t say no, can I? Can’t say I don’t even know what I’m agreeing to. Can’t say that punishment’s barbaric, especially now that pussy senses my imminent distress.
“Come here.”
Crawled, best that way.
“Turn round. Pass me one.”
My fingers fought the tiny lid of the proffered box and shook free the drawing pins. With Rock behind and hands tied in front I stretched left and right but still couldn’t reach. Rock gave no help so I leaned back struggling to keep balance, until I felt his fingers above my head, dropped the pin and toppled back onto my hands to wait with bottom clenched
“Another.”
Struggled again, then again until three pins were passed.
“These are for the knickers. Three points - three pins. Easy isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Not from where I was it wasn’t. Felt the point dimple and then puncture. Each pin in turn but not as painful as I expected and certainly not biting like a whip.
“Three more, one at a time.”
It hurt when I moved but by bending and stretching, which aggravated the pins terribly, I soon had another three pins embedded in my buttocks. Three in each one, to be precise.
“These are for pubes. Sit. Knees bent, back straight, hands on ankles.”
The position ensured maximum weight squeezed the pins deep into my bottom making me grimace as I tried to absorb the pain and acclimatise.
“Six for the doughnut, deliberate disobedience. Each point is worth ten minutes. I assume that you’ll ponder the value of bonus points while you wait for each point to be erased.”
A whole hour sat on pins. I’m sure the hands of the clock in front of my eyes moved slower than usual. Two minutes, fifty eight left and tears already dripped. Pussy generated involuntary wriggles, which drove pins deep and excited pussy to more wriggles and, well, you know the rest, been there before. When will it end? Always pain, excitement, pain, excitement, ever viscous circles. Catch 22 now seems a way of life!
The minutes dragged but despite the hurt I couldn’t move. Why? Madam binds so I can’t but Rock hasn’t, only my hands anyway. Why not just get up and walk away? There’s nothing to stop me. Except, Rock’s will and that ensures I’ll stay.
Eventually the hour of torture, the itching carpet, freezing draughts, wriggling hips that buried the pins, and the hurt, ever deeper passed. An hour of torment for a doughnut. Just one bloody doughnut, I’ll never eat another doughnut again.
“Have you learned anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I must obey. Punishment’s different, though.” Oops, slipped out, journal, didn’t mean him to know that, been punished before, I mean.
“Explain.”
“Spankings, whippings.”
“Anything else?”
What else? Madam always beats. Blackmail’s only a threat. Rock, Madam, threats. No. Not now - concentrate.
“No.”
“I see. No imagination. You may urinate and make coffee. We will talk more then.”
Scrambled to the toilet as every step made the pins hurt more. The kettle took an age as I stood waiting in the freezing kitchen, my f
ingers gently stroking the metal studs in my bottom. So hard against tender skin. Talk? About my punishments? No imagination? Why does punishment have to be imaginative? Madam’s thrashings are effective enough.
Couldn’t sit any more, so knelt, furniture’s forbidden anyway.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.” Why did I say that? The carpet hurt my knees, my bottom was pierced and sore and I ached, so why not say so?
“Bonus points. Marks of your indiscretions. May be dealt with immediately or allowed to accumulate. In any case the slate will be wiped clean at the end of each month. Corporal punishment bores me, so will only be used rarely. It is much more interesting devising other, more appropriate measures. I am the judge, jury and executioner. You have no say whatsoever, except in the way you behave. Do you understand?”
“Yes” Of course I did. It isn’t hard - I do wrong and Rock punishes how he pleases.
“Tomorrow I will advise of your terms and conditions. Now, bend over, nose to the carpet, bottom high.”
Pussy eagerly welcomed the hard warm flesh that burrowed and stretched. At last, Rock was inside me controlling the rush of excitement that pussy craved with long deep thrusts. Delicious. His strong hands grasped hips and they, not me controlled. My mind whirled as the pleasure built, slowly, frustratingly. Rock’s hot flesh, teasing to crescendo before holding me on the edge. My whole body quivered, desperate for the explosion that was primed but sadistically denied. Pussy in absolute heaven. His long hard thrusts, his firm paunch hammering the pins deep into my taut buttocks creating the pain and pleasure, which pulsed on and on to the ecstasy I knew must follow. With growing impatience I tried to anticipate more frustration but, too late, legs trembled, breasts wobbled and my head shook as the pinball of delight ricocheted endlessly before becoming lost in a long silent scream as Rock’s hot semen flooded.
“It seems you have already forgotten about when you may orgasm.”
Couldn’t answer, couldn’t even catch my breath as the ripples of pleasure still delighted. Orgasm only when he says, I remember now, (too bloody late now) but I couldn’t help it, honestly. Didn’t forget, couldn’t help it. Teased and tormented beyond endurance, it wasn’t my fault. He did it. Stole my willpower. Suppose now I must pay for pleasure. It’s not fair. Nobody could resist it.