If executed correctly the design and placement can be a magnificent blend of Jacob’s Ladder, Gordian Knot and sailor’s netting fashioned with hangman precision, the final result limited only by one’s imagination and boundaries of endurance and angst.
Some see degradation within the perfection of binding; I see docility that is fearless and gladly anticipates the unknown.
How exquisite a woman’s breasts are when framed by fibers of hemp, linen and cotton, spun into yarns, spun into strands, twisted and counter-twisted to make one element in a glorious work of art.
I flick their peaks like I flick flies but much more gently, ensuring the nipples strain through this spider’s web to complement the puffiness, sweat, goose bumps and ripped stockings that will soon make their appearance.
Some call this unholy; I call this devotion, for it takes grace to succumb to supplication.
How delectable her moistened cunt is when outlined in cord, the clit engorging and beckoning the tongue. With greed I will sip the juice of her soul and bring forth more.
Her wasp waist is not forgotten, she is wound like a top to be played with and put aside. The lower belly of this creature is soft and exposed, the flesh nestled in my cat’s cradle. I tickle the defenseless skin and her journey begins.
Her hips are special, encased in a birdcage of cord that highlights the dimples in her womanly plumpness and the subtle hints of pink that previous sweet encounters left behind. She will be reunited again tonight. I will rub the resulting rouge to the color of flame and listen intently to the sounds of distressed joy.
Some pronounce moral destruction; I reply morality heightened, for it takes honesty to reveal the creations of heaven.
Her ass is exposed, adorned with two thin twines of braiding that titillate her proud pussy and wind their way up her smooth back. Her ass is a perfect somersault heart, and sweeter than Valentine’s candy. My hands spread the cheeks wide and lay bare the delicate fruit that waits anxiously to be bitten. Patience darling, patience, I chide her when she looks at me with pleading puppy dog eyes.
The ill informed claim enslavement; I retort liberation, for it takes more than keys to become unfettered.
I spread her legs and lock her ankles to anchors. Her thighs are wide and coaxing, she breathes raggedly, spurring me on. I insert a finger into her wetness and softly stir. When she begs for more I withdraw and walk away.
They whisper shame; I shout pride, for it takes knowledge of self to conquer self.
I scan my devices of euphoria — bits and ball gags, yolks and bars, hooks and chains, shackles and cuffs, hoods, blindfolds, whips and more. There is so much to choose from. I linger, slowly mulling over my options. Naughty Girl’s anticipation is quickly building, the volume of her whimpers and pleas steadily increases.
Cruelly I sit down in a high backed chair, place my spikes on the matching foot stool and introduce two fingers into my pussy with my thumb on my demanding clit. With ease I cum, shouting at my little dolly to keep her eyes open and watch me dissolve into pleasure. I laugh, the dance has started with feverish fingers and a purring growl. My pet can wait, she needs to learn stoicism otherwise she’ll never survive in my world.
“Mistress, hurt me,” the Naughty Girl says with very, very little respect, forgetting to use the word ‘please.’ In her defense I admit that she sometimes forgets our lessons, but etiquette and acquiescence are paramount. This breech of protocol will be remedied post haste.
Hush, slave! Are YOU telling me what to do? Did I give you permission to speak? I’ll fuck you, I’ll hurt you, I’ll do whatever I want with you at my convenience. Maybe I’ll allow you to cum after you’ve earned the privilege. Maybe.
I ask myself if submission requires punishment. Absolutely. The endurance of pain is the physical expression of humility, virtue and piety. My playroom is a cathedral, and I am Naughty Girl’s guide on the path to self realization and rebirth of her spirit.
I walk back to my collection and select an elegantly engraved set of nipple clamps joined together with a delicate serpentine chain, and a sturdy reed. Fuck, my pussy is slicker than maple syrup.
I return to my lovely objet d’art, place my tools on a nearby table and uncuff her hands, which are fastened behind her back. Raise your arms above your head and grab the bar, I command while slapping her face.
Using a coil of idle cord I wind and weave her wrists to the bar above her, carefully positioning and tightening for moderate discomfort. In words and deeds I try to be mindful that she doesn’t reach her limit of tolerable agony prematurely. I love reveling in my own cunt soaking honey, brutally insistent that she edge and not interfere with the pleasure I get from climaxing till I’m spent at her expense.
She understands that my satisfaction is far more important than hers. I must admit, my Naughty Girl is a wonderful pet, a glorious piece of ass, my best student. I respect her courage, her strength in accepting vulnerability which is positively Herculean, all while emanating the beauty of Venus and the sweet taste of a peach.
To escalate the level of her pain I crank the metal bar up until my plaything has difficulty standing on her toes. She is my personal ballerina in bondage.
I attach the clamps to her tanned tits and pull on the chain to ensure that the jaws are securely fastened to her brownish nipples. Satisfied with my handiwork, I lick and suck the clamped globes, eliciting both screams and sighs from my bitch.
Indescribably delicious, I whisper, and begin finger fucking myself again, demanding she suck the cream off each digit several times. My captive begs for more as her own cream begins to drip and slide down her inner thighs.
I will squat in front of her and lap up her fuck. I will rise with coated lips and kiss her deeply to share her nectar and our mingled spit. But not yet, there is a lesson we must revisit.
Say ‘Mistress,’ I instruct her and she complies. With my reed I tap tap lightly around her pussy lips, avoiding her exposed pinkness. She winces, I smile.
Say ‘please Mistress, please.’ She does.
Tap tap — gasp.
Say ‘Mistress, I beg you.’ She does.
Tap tap — gasp gasp.
Louder!
Tap tap — “please stop!”
Stop? Beg me!
Tap tap — “please, please stop!”
Say ‘please Mistress, may I have another.’
Tap tap — “please Mistress!”
Tap tap — “may I have another!”
Tap tap. She screams, my smile broadens.
Say it Love.
Tap tap — “please Mistress, may I have another? I beg you!”
Absolutely Love.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the bullseye clit and she comes in a flood. Well done, well done. Good girl, you’re a very good girl.
I gently pet her tender twat as she crashes from her high and regains her senses. But my kindness lasts for just so long before I slap her clamped breasts, alternating between the two angry nipples. She flinches and shudders. I’m not satisfied, I want her to buck and twist. I roughly tug off the tit clips, slapping her ass with a heavy hand in response to her screams.
Shut your mouth, slave, I breathe into her ear, and roughly grab her candy apple red cunt. I have another place to attach these. I jingle the chain in front of her face and tears well in her eyes, I am pushing her too far too fast. Alright Love, I will spare you this time. She thanks me effusively as her fright ratchets down to low level fear. She is ready for the next chapter.
I spin her around and administer a prolonged two handed spanking on her gorgeous lickable ass. She loves this and begs for me to be rougher. I do as she asks, this is my way of apologizing for thoughtlessly stepping over a fine line.
My hands begin to sting so I administer serious pinches to the backs of her knees and thighs, to the shallow dimples at the juncture of her buttocks and lower back, her shoulder blades and arms are delightful victims as well over which I travel randomly. In closed eyed ecstasy she pleads for mercy with a smile. I comply and cover her in butterfly kisses.
Growing bored I return to my cache of toys and walk back to her bearing gifts of a blindfold, ball gag, vibrator, extraordinarily thick and rigid dildo and beautifully jeweled ass plug. Her eyes widen with joy, laughing almost maniacally. I love her attitude.
After she has been plunged into darkness and the gag is in place I rub the plug in her slit to moisten it before inserting it into her ass. Even with her abundant lubrication I have difficulty placing it, so I insert a finger in her anus and slowly work it in and out to relax her muscles and stretch her tight hole. I remove my finger and rim her with my tongue. She moans like an animal as I insert two cunt juice covered fingers, spreading her wide and licking until she’s ready for the plug which is now easily placed. To my delight her hips are now finally bucking and her moans are positively operatic.
What do you want me to do now, my dear? She tries to speak but is unable. What did you say? Speak up, I can’t hear you! My plaything tries again to speak, giving it the old college try, but fails. What’s that you say? I slap her face. Do you want me to fuck you? I administer more slaps to her cheeks, spit flying as she nods furiously and I imagine her eyes saying yes. Whatever you want darling, I tell her as my hand again enters her excited slit, the lips fully pulled aside by prolonged excitement giving full access to her charms.
Some would say sin; I counter with salvation, as I kneel and lap up the fuck that flows from the throes of her rapture, rising with coated lips to share the nectar.
Kneeling again I introduce the hefty dildo, pumping it in and out of her snatch as the vibrator lays waste to her clit. As her mouth begins to slacken around the ball gag I double down on my efforts. My Naughty Girl spasms and cums in a flood of muffled screams which makes me twitch fluidly. I don’t stop fucking her after the first orgasm, I continue to pound her with the stand-in prick and employ the vibrator repeatedly, blasting her into the stars.
I bite her, tease her, tongue her and send her over the motherfucking moon. I notice that she is no longer on her tippy-toes, she is hanging limply, 100 percent fuck drunk. I lower the bar and push her down on her knees. Removing her blindfold I see that her eyes are still rolling into the back of her head. My turn. I unbuckle the gag and force her face towards my crotch, plunging it deep into my snatch, alternately withdrawing, laughing, returning, rinse and repeat, prolonging the sensations, delaying my orgasm.
I throw her down on the bed and tie her ankles to the lower posts, I will need her hands free. Snap out of it, Naughty Girl! Please me! I demand as I lower my snatch onto her face, ready for more. Eat my cunt, whore! She raises her hands and weakly parts my pussy lips and continues her task. To spur her on I lean forward and nibble her rawness. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” she breathes into my hole, “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, oh fuck I’m cumming.” Don’t you dare cum yet! Wait until I give you permission. With tremendous effort she squeals to a stop. I’m proud of my baby girl.
As her sex tears flow her talented tongue dives into my cunt, swirling and probing, her mouth seals around my clit creating a vacuum. I cum like an earthquake followed by orgasmic aftershocks. Now you can cum, I tell her as I furiously masturbate her, cum for me baby! Now, now, now!
I am the woman behind the mask thriving in the dark, providing the opportunity for those weaker and frightened to challenge life. Naughty Girl is the seeker with her body and soul laid bare to the light. How lazy to say we are the embodiment of good and evil, how short sighted to actually believe that square pegs cannot fit into round holes.
We shimmer and blur, neither here nor there, exchangeable, interchangeable, intersecting, revolving, evolving. Pain awakens our nerves, nerves to carry sparks to jump start our hearts and pump the blood that propels us into life outside our garden gate.
Many are afraid to feel pain with their pleasure, to allow opposing forces to collide. How can pleasure be fully understood if it cannot be measured? One without the other makes for a tilted scale, but combined and compared the scale is leveled and the vagaries of life are exposed.
We are pain. We are pleasure. We know we are alive and give thanks.
