Her Pain for His Pleasure

Part 2

Michelle walked to her car quickly. She had just finished her safe call, and set up another one for Sunday morning. Her friend was not happy at the turn of events, but complied with her wishes.

As she got into her car, she felt the ache in her nipples. He had left the nipple clamps on her until just before she dressed; he took them off without a thought. The movement of her shirt was a whole lot of sensation for her over-sensitized nipples; she liked that. She knew that this was just a little hint of what tomorrow was going to be like …

Michelle slept in on Saturday morning, and awoke with a big stretch. She rarely slept naked, but had, last night. Of course, she woke up wet (just as she had been, when she fell asleep.) Her day was filled with errands, and busy-work. Time passed slowly.

And all of a sudden it was time to go to his house. Her ministrations completed, she did not want to be late.

As instructed she parked next to his garage, and entered the side door at 6pm precisely. The guest bathroom was exactly where he said it would be, and she removed all of her clothes, except the garter, hose and high heels. As he had mentioned, he left some items for her, in the bathroom. She attached the stiff wrist and ankle cuffs, with their impressive-looking locks and D-rings. She attached the thick collar.

She went to the basement. A deep, deep breath before opening the door, and then down the stairs. Carefully, in the high heels. Michelle is a bit of a tom-boy, and not used to walking in heels.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, clasped her hands behind her back and spread her legs slightly. And waited. This is where the directions stopped. She noticed that the basement was large, and was the size of the house – a good size. It was clean, and well-lit right near the stairs, where she was. One area appeared to be sectioned off with moveable partitions, and she could see carpeting lying on the concrete floor. She noticed eye bolts in different ceiling rafters, and pieces of rope thrown over other rafters. She knew what they were for, but noted that the basement could pass for a “normal” basement.

Michelle waited 15 minutes, and then heard him coming down the stairs.

Good, she's trembling, he thought. She should be scared; not only for what I was planning to do, but also for the punishment that she will receive for disobeying my instructions. He said not a word, but gestured her toward an open area of the basement. He attached each of her wrists to eye-bolts in the rafters, spread far apart. He tied her tightly, her arms wide apart, elbows straight and wrists up to the ceiling. He secured each ankle cuff to opposing eye bolts at floor level (she had not noticed these.) Michelle was in an X position, without much ability to move.

Then he picked up a leather belt, from a table behind the partition. He stood in front of Michelle and said nothing for a moment.

And then ….

“I am very disappointed in you Michelle.”

She said nothing, her mind racing. What did I do wrong? She thought. She went over his directions in her head, trying to figure out where she had gone awry.

“I received no e-mail message this morning, Michelle. You will not make this mistake again, correct?”

Oh my gosh, she had completely forgotten. No, she would not forget again.

“That will be 25 lashes with each of three implements, of my choice, Michelle. I was going to start out a little bit easier on you, but that opportunity is gone. You will be quite bruised, and in quite a lot of pain, and not even an hour will have gone by. With 11 more hours left for me to use your body. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He walked around behind her. He was not kidding; he did not hold back at all. If she had not been secured so tightly, the first lash would have sent her at least 5' forward.

The pain was intense, across both of her buttocks. The second lash was directed at her right buttock, and the third at her left. After a while she lost count, trying hard not to scream or to cry. He whipped her methodically, not fast and not slow. Sometimes one butt cheek, sometimes the other. Sometimes both.

Finally it ended.

But it had not ended, for he next picked up a riding crop, and started all over again. In the same spot. Her ass was bright red and she was trembling all over, he noticed. That just made him whip her harder …

Michelle was lost to it all. She was lost in a world just focused on the shooting, burning, methodical pain. The only sound was the crop sailing through the air, and then connecting abruptly and loudly with her aching flesh. Over and over and over. The screaming, in her head, was endless and ear-piercing, but she let not a sound out.

He was pleased with her. She really was going to be a gem.

His third implement was a cane. Michelle had never been caned before, and she was scared at the sight of it. The first blow, on flesh that had already received 50 lashes, was excruciating. By the 9 th blow she was crying and hanging weakly from her bound wrists.

So methodical, 10, 11, 12, 13. He counted. He was hard, watching her twitching form, looking at her ass, criss-crossed with his cane marks and red from his whippings. He had belted her so hard that she was already starting to bruise. How nice, he thought, a trifecta of markings.

He couldn't help it, he caned her harder. The more that she cried, the more that it spurred him on. He had warned her about crying out; was secretly pleased that she had held out as long as she had, but was also secretly pleased that he had broken her. And so soon, and with a reason, no less! Unlike other doms, he actually liked to punish his pain-slaves.

23, 24, 25.

For a few minutes, Michelle did not completely realize that he was done. She hung in her bonds, sobbing, with her whole body screaming.

And yet she was so wet, and she knew this. After only a few minutes she had composed herself … he had been standing behind her admiring his handiwork.

“You will not disappoint me again, right Michelle?”

“No, Sir,” she replied.

“Well, then, we shall begin your training.” He untied her wrists and ankles, and led her to a sawhorse with a padded top. He bent her over the sawhorse, attaching each leg to each end of it. Her legs were spread wide, wide apart and, bent over, she was completely vulnerable to him. He attached her wrist cuffs to each other, behind her back, and then attached them to the ceiling, pulling her arms up roughly behind her back. Now she was bent over and secured, available to him.

“This will normally be your first position, when you visit me. From this position I will usually paddle you, to warm up your ass. However, this will be quite unnecessary tonight, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He ran his rough hands over her bruised flesh, marveling at the heat, and the bruising. He particularly liked the raised welts that the cane left on her ass. He rubbed one of the larger ones roughly, making the red color even angrier looking, and making the welt even larger.

With no preamble, she felt him inserting a huge butt plug inside her. Though she was still shaking from the whipping she had just received, she was enormously wet. She knew that she had found quite a good match for herself – she liked it that he took charge, did not talk a whole lot, and just used her as he saw fit. She felt sorry that she had disappointed him, but secretly reveled in the knowledge that she had taken a huge amount of pain, and could still take more.

The butt plug felt huge to her; it felt like it was ripping her open. When he had inserted it all the way, she felt uncomfortably full.

He next came around to the front of the sawhorse, and pulled up a chair. Seated, her nipples and breasts were available to him. He once again pulled each nipple harshly toward him, pulling and twisting. He attached those huge wood clamps again, this time much more tightly. The pain for each nipple shot through her.

For a few moments he walked around her, admiring her from all angles. It had been a long, long time since had had an attractive woman bound and plugged and whipped and clamped, in his basement. Ok, honestly, he'd had women in this position in his basement, but none as appealing as Michelle. He foresaw many happy hours ahead, with her in this position.

Finally he got to do what he had fantasized about in the hotel last night. Finally he would get to rape her, pound into her. He stood in front of her, took out his hard, thick cock, and told her to get him started. Her mouth felt heavenly, but he wanted more.

He went behind her and jammed himself into her, all at once. My gosh, she is so wet for me, he thought. Pain really does do it for her. He began to pound into her, relishing the feeling of her tight hole, of the huge butt plug in her ass. He loved having something firm to rub up against, inside her. He told her that she could cum, with no penalty.

And cum she did. Over and over. Until finally he came, exploding inside her.

And just that quickly, he pulled out of her, and she realized that he had gone upstairs. She heard his footsteps across the floor. There she remained, bound wrist and ankle, spread, plugged, bent over a sawhorse, huge clamps on her nipples. Her ass was sore from the whipping, her holes were sore from the raping. Her nipples continued to scream at the assault of the tight clamps.

She was right where she was supposed to be. Giving her pain for his pleasure.

And still 11 hours to go.