She thought I’d leave her if she cheated. I signed my first submissive slave contract that day to renounce any claims of adultery. She met an acquaintance later that week, tied me to the chair to listen from another room as her anonymous lover fucked her wildly and noisily for what felt like hours. Her screams and cries, punctured by loud orgasms and desperate wails drove my imagination wild as my ears strained, anxious to hear every last detail from their tryst.
I knew what would happen; we both did. Encouraging sadists was a dangerous game and one squeal was all it took. Suddenly there was an unspoken competition between them: who could make her squeak the loudest. Every spank got firmer, louder, more painful. I would see her fighting back the tears, and screwing up her face as trainee dominant after trainee dominant sized up her gorgeous arse with battering hits.
Or so I thought, my impossible dream was vividly real as my exposed rear waited for her. I was ready, desperately wanting the show to begin, yet filled with trepidation. My heart pounded on the soft bench as I frantically replayed the songs in my mind. I’d seen the videos: Melanie was intense, as the poor abused men desperately pleaded with the sadist on the vocals. It was sheer depravity.
“And what sort of boyfriend wants to share his girlfriend?” She asked. “What sort of man would get off on seeing his girl used or felt up on the dancefloor?” I squealed as her hand made contact with my suited trousers for a second time, wriggling. I could have wrestled myself free with ease, but I didn’t want to: I wanted to see how far my diminutive girlfriend would take her games. “Eh?”
She used her strap-on like she promised and it made for some great pictures; the part of his beaten buttocks sucking the big, black veiny cock of the petite Russian. It had to be a black cock, a realistic black cock: the contrast of his milky-white skin and the darkness of the dildo was pure circulation pornography.
Fingers roughly tugged at my skin as clamps were applied, biting angrily into my nipples and sending pain tearing through my consciousness. My body boiled with sheer agony; it was unlike anything I had experienced. It was intensely overpowering, hearing myself yell with desperate cries. “Get ’em off, get ’em off,” I pleaded.
She pushed me forwards, watching me topple face-first into my musky cushions and swiping my underwear to my knees. The first blow of her weapon struck my buttocks with a deafening crack, swishing ominously through the air to inflict a white-hot stripe of pain across my exposed bottom. She cackled at my screams, repeated her demands and snapped at my failure to concede.
She looked divine. The dominant pose of her body, staring away from me and shunning my presence as I looked into her cold lair. The gloved hands, ready to probe my body with malign intentions. The touch of her buttocks, her fingers already prising the buttcheeks apart to receive my kisses on her bud: suddenly that was all I was good for. That’s all I wanted to.
A chastity cage was the first condition of their reconciliation. The cold steel snapping shut over his cock drove home the reality of his predicament. He begged, but she remained resolute: her patience stretched taut by his vociferous pleading, whimpering as she slid the stout padlock closed on his genital liberty.
I knew what was coming; it wasn’t just the plastic roses. There was only three teabags not four on her tea-tray, and she had had problems connecting to the complementary wireless. In short, the room was not to her expectations and she had every intention of ensuring that I knew. She was going to give me a “tip.”
Word Limit: 200 Word Bonus: +10, per inch, of the biggest cock you’ve ever handled: The biggest cock I’ve handled is the strap-on (fake cock) which was eight inches long Required Word: Suit Forbidden Words: Penis, Cock, Prick, Dick, Dork, Dong, Pecker, Johnson, Wang, Elvis Extra Credit: What does he do for a living? His …
I was so dreadfully sorry, I came without permission. My treacherous cock spewed cum across her pristine white sheets as her dildo violated my rectum and rubbed against my prostate. She scowled angrily as I apologised profusely; could I not control myself? What sort of submissive was I, if I would not submit to her …
Grown men don’t cry, do they? They do. And I am crying. I am crying, begging and pleading for the agony to stop; wishing and desperately hoping that she will yield and show mercy to me, but I know my cause is hopeless. She will not submit to my pitiful cries and deep down, I …
Last month I submitted a couple of stories to Alison Tyler; neither were accepted and this one was similar to what else she had received, but it seemed silly to leave it on my hard drive so it is here for everyone to enjoy! I bellowed in agony, my rump burning with white-hot pain from …