This is still kind of rough, but since i cant find part two of the gb story i thought ppl might enjoy something more recent , and written with from a grater knowledge of what submission means to me.
Playing with a packet of sugar tipping and twisting it, suddenly it split, spilling grains of sugar all over the table. Grabbing a napkin, I tried to collect all the grains into my hand, then realised I had nowhere to put them. Attempting to be casual I scattered them on the floor beneath my table, it was a greasy spoon, i hoped no one would notice, then caught myself for the thought, how snobby was that?
The group in the corner certainly wouldn't notice, already started on their stag party, their voices loud their language and laughter a determined show of how good a time they were having, they were discussing the night before and their success or failure with various women. Apparently Geordie girls split into being right slags or dogs. It wasn't easy to tell which group they had had the most success with.
Glancing at my phone, it was almost time. His last text had said he would be here by four, I had arrived early, my stomach tight with excitement, the unfamiliar knickers sticking to my wet pussy. I wondered for a moment which group the stag do would put me in, but I was at least 10 years too old, and while the thin white summer dress showed my breasts braless, emphasised my hips, I was outside their field of vision.
Then he entered and my vision narrowed, he seemed to fill the room, dressed immaculately as always he smiled at me and smiling back the churning did not cease, but the excitement grew.
“Well, are you ready?” He asked.
I could only nod, but that wasn’t enough for him. As always he demanded speech.
“i’m ready...Sir” that last was almost whispered, it seems the right word, in the wrong place. He took the seat opposite me.
“You don’t seem ready to me ”
I’m just nervous, and a little scared I suppose”
“Of what”
I thought before replying, knowing if he did not feel my answer was satisfactory I would simply have to keep talking until he was satisfied.
“The pain I suppose”
He laughed. Genuine amusement at my simple answers, and that I was afraid of pain, when I had begged for it.
We left the cafe and walked, he took my overnight bag off me without a word, swinging it over his shoulder. I had to hurry to keep up with his long strides, he started speaking, as if to himself.
“If you know something has to happen, what it will involve, it seems foolish to fear it. “
Again I could only nod, our destination was in sight.
Perched on the table, I wondered if the smell of my pussy juices was as obvious to the others in the room as it was to me. I was wondering if the man in front of me would comment on it. Or the damp patch in my knickers as I had removed them. I had to resist the urge to reach out for my Masters hand, it was enough he was here, we were here, he was not exactly the person to appeal to for comfort.
The clamp on my clit made me jump. Cold and pulling on the sensitive skin.
The man spoke, “You must remain still, it honestly won't be that bad”
He was either lying or I was more sensitive than he was used to . It felt like a knife was cutting my whole clit open, not just a needle piercing the clit hood. I swore, and swore again, not from anger, but pure pain, pain that filled my whole body, then the strange, sickening feeling of the bar entering my flesh, and it was done, my clit was pierced as my Master wished, his sign of ownership.
I dont remember leaving the shop, I do remember having to stop after only walking a few steps, dizzy, faint and overwhelmed by my orgasm, My clit felt huge, the bar rubbing it almost too much to bear. I leaned against the wall and felt wetness on my thighs, my whole body shuddering.
He stood next to me, his voice low and gentle
“Can you make it to the car”
I nodded, not sure I could speak.
This time he did take my hand, and led me to the nearby car park. The bustle and traffic of a city limbering up for a Friday night dreamlike compared to the reality of what was between my legs, what had just been done to me.
As we pulled out of the carpark he ordered me to pull up my skirt, he wanted to see my new decoration. I hesitated a moment, we were still crawling along busy city streets, then complied.
“Open your legs” This time I obeyed without hesitation, each movement, bump of the car, turn of the wheels seemed to go straight to my clit, I could feel another orgasm building, gasping I wondered if it was allowed, then it was too late, and stopped at traffic light, the world passing by I came again, oblivious to anything except the throbbing and his voice
“Good girl”
We soon left the city behind, heading out to the remote farmhouse I had heard so much about but never seen. The details of rendering plaster and exposing beams, the difficulty of finding suitable window frames had been a part of my life as much as his, in those conversations that did not involve sex, pain and Domination. He had told me I would visit when the time was right, for a while I had misunderstood, thinking he meant when the work was finished, but he had meant when I was his. I would walk through the door for the first time when he marked me as his own.
I only had a chance to catch a glimpse of the dark wooden stairs before he ordered me to remove my dress, and stand on the third step. Naked I tried not to shake as he pushed back my outer lips and inspected the piercing. Knowing we had been warned in the shop to be gentle with it, but wanting, hoping , and fearing he would touch me.
Instead he ordered me to turn and bend. He must have readied the cane before he left, the first stroke cut across my thighs without any warning, I tried not to cry out, counting “one.”
He moved from my thighs onto my arse, spreading the fire that started in my clit and was shooting through my whole body. At 6 I wondered if I could take any more, at 7 I almost moved away, at 8 I came, screaming out as I did so.
He laughed” The floor here is wooden, so I thought even you couldn't make a mess, now clear it up “
On my knees at his feet I started lapping up the pussy juices that had spattered onto his shoes with my tongue. The cane marks were throbbing in that way they always did afterwards, a way that made me want to beg for more even if I had been sobbing with pain a moment before.
“Upstairs now” he commanded, and I hurried up, then paused on the landing.
“Straight ahead” he said, and I pushed open the bedroom door, unsure what to expect.
It was his bedroom, the large easel by the south facing window, the reclaimed iron fireplace recognised from photoes, all told me that. The ropes hanging from the roof beams also told me he had been making preparations for my arrival.
“A st andrews cross and suspension hook wouldn't fit with the colour scheme” he said
I laughed, the rope was doubled around the beam, then fastened through some kind of caribiner, looped around a figure of 8 shaped piece of metal
“Not exactly grade one listed building approved Sir”
“Exactly, so there are advantages to being a climber , now move and stand underneath the ropes.”
He fastened cuffs around my wrists then looped the rope on the chain between them, pulling on the other end my arms were soon stretched above my head, it made my breasts stand proud, exposed my whole body to him.
He was behind me, presumably fastening his end of the rope to something, i could feel it growing taught, pulling on my arms. He spoke again.
“What is the rule while you are here this weekend”
“Obedience Sir “
“Good girl, now i think we could both do with a meal, low blood sugar is no good, I dont want you fainting, yet. While I am cooking you will not come, understood”
“Yes Sir”
To be honest I did not think that would be a problem, my arms already ached slightly, without his presence I would be free to think about this afternoon, and what was to come. Then he pulled my nipples and I gasped. He stretched them in turn, then, once aroused gently stroked him with his thumb, circling the aureole and making me groan with pleasure. From his pocket he took out two clover clamps, and fastened them on. Then he softly whispered in my ear,
“Remember, no orgasms.”
He paused at the doorway, taking in the sight of me, body arched and stretching, nipples growing, rubbing my thighs together even as I bit my lip and determined not to come , then he was gone.
Within minutes he returned, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had distracted myself by looking around the room and trying to make out what his new painting was off. My nipples were throbbing more now than my arms or the cane marks on the thighs, I knew as the blood rushed back to them I would probably come, but since he would be the one removing them that did not worry me.
He reentered the room carrying something in his hand.
“Arms sore?”
“Yes Sir”
“ And the nipples?”
“Throbbing Sir”
“Ahhh what a pity, oh well this should take your mind of things.”
“I could not quite see what he had in his hands, It was black, but then he knelt before me and I froze, wondering what would come next.
“Raise your left leg”
I obeyed and as he slid something around my ankle I began to realize what he had in his hand.
“Now the other leg”
Soon he was pulling the panties up, and i felt a hard dildo against my pussy lips.
“I have never really seen the point of vibrating panties before, if a woman is wanking I like to be able to watch. However burnt food isn't very appetising so they seem ideal now”
The dildo entered me and it took every ounce of control I had not to come, it filled my pussy and then he set it vibrating, Squeezing my eyes shut I almost lost it, allowing the sensation of the plastic cock in my pussy to overwhelm me, to push me to the orgasm i knew i was so near to.
His voice brought me back.
“Remember, no orgasms,
|
(
