Her face, though
Oh my gosh even her hitachi is a kitty!!
vibrator
I think I need to find myself in one of these intense, inescapable situations soon.
The camera pans around her, allowing the viewers to linger on her naked, taut body. Kidnapped for the pleasure of everyone watching online, she will find no mercy here. The muffled screams are heard only by the viewers of this cruel display.
Unable to move her limbs or move the unforgiving vibrator away at all, her only ability is to shudder and clench every muscle, feeling every orgasm tear her further away from the hope of release.
Left alone with the automated camera, there is no sign of compassion for her to cling to, and even if there is any mercy in the viewers, it is not being shown, as the chime of another donation being sent to the website is heard.
The sound delights the viewers, who all know exactly what it means. Each donation adds more time onto how long the girl will be kept like this, how much longer she will suffer the vibrators wraith.
She has no idea how much longer it will last.
Again, another donation… another hour of torment….
…It will be a long, long night.
Craftsmate saw this a coule of months and suggested that this is maybe how his Sweetheart could earn some allowance.
But little girls don’t earn allowance, silly. They just get it for being sweet, pretty little girls.
Full Service, Part Seven
Craftsmate rolled me back over onto my stomach, setting the vibrator back underneath me and turning it on low. Carefully, he pulled the plug out of my ass. However, I got a bit too excited and clenched on it as he was pulling it out, which resulted in it feeling awful unpleasant.
Gently, he pushed a finger into my ass and started sliding it in and out. I moaned, burying my face in the sheets as he turned the vibrator on high.
“Come on,” I mumbled, my voice barely a whine. “Just fuck me, please.”
I craned my neck to look over at him. He was smirking, a little sparkle in his eye as he pumped his finger a little harder. “Fuck me, who?” He turned the vibrator off and set it aside.
“Oh, God, please fuck me, Sir,” I whined, squirming against his finger. Suddenly, he withdrew it and I heard him ripping a condom wrapper open.
He tugged my body to the edge of the bed and entered me with a rough thrust. With his hips, he pushed my legs further apart and started pounding into my cunt. Despite the way my body was being rocked against the bed and my efforts to thrust back against him, I managed to rest my head down on the sheets and felt myself grin.
It’s so nice when you get what you want.
Full Service, Part Five
Craftsmate slipped the tweezer clamps onto my nipples before picking up the flogger. He started to beat my thighs, stomach and chest in quick, sharp hits. However, I noticed that he was holding back a bit, carefully ensuring that he was not hitting me too hard.
Usually, I appreciated when he did this. I’m not much of a masochist. However, as subspaced as I was, I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper and I wanted it to really, genuinely hurt.
“Harder,” I gasped out. He looked a bit surprised, but he swung the flogger harder. I continued to beg, “harder, please, Sir, please…"
Soon, he rolled me over onto my stomach. I squealed and winced as my clamped nipples pushed into the bed. The pressure sent a sharp, persistent pain through my breasts.
"Ow,” I whined, squirming to try to find a better position. However, the hogtie left me very few options.
“Aww, it hurts?” He teased, attaching the clover clamps to my pussy lips. My breath caught as he gave a sharp tug to the clamps, forcing them to squeeze my labia tighter. He slipped the vibrator underneath me, lining it up with my clit and turning it on low. “Does that make it all better?”
I moaned, grinding up onto the vibrator, “uh huh.” I caught myself. “Yes, Sir.”
Ivy’s First Trip to a Dungeon, Part Three
Craftsmate had purchased two new items to bring along to the dungeon earlier that week: a black spandex hood with holes for the eyes and another for the nose and mouth and a rubber gag with a cock-like protrusion that got shoved in my mouth. The former was because I had expressed that I was worried about people seeing my face while I did stuff and being ashamed about it, in addition to the fact that I may have a teensy tiny fascination with hoods. The latter was Craftsmate’s idea of a fun surprise which made me blush all kinds of red.
In a matter of moments, I was wearing both of them, in addition to my blindfold. Between the way my head was basically completely encased and the blaring music of the club, I was terribly disoriented. My head was indescribably swimmy and I could barely process what was going on when Craftsmate rolled my skirt up and tucked it into the waistband of my stockings.
He started to spank me. Through the confines of the hood and the bass of the music, I could hear people talking. My cheeks burned and I only blushed deeper when I realized the wetness on my chin was my own drool soaking into the material of the hood.
I moaned lowly around the rubber cock in my mouth when Craftsmate shoved my vibrator down the front of my stockings and turned it on. He alternated between spanking me and adjusting the vibrator from low to high to off, driving me near insane before he pushed me up against the wall.
“Do you like this?” He asked as he adjusted the restraints so my arms were linked together above my head. I nodded and moaned. “Do you feel out of control?” I nodded once more and felt him step away.
For a moment, I was concerned he had actually just left me there and swung my leg out behind me to locate him. He laughed when I tapped his shin.
“Aww, sweetheart,” I could hear him smirking. “Did you think I left you here for somebody to find?” He pulled my blouse out of my skirt and hiked it up. My bra followed and I was grateful to be facing the wall and unable to see if anyone was looking. At first, I wasn’t sure what the sting on my nipples was, but once he started yanking the chain I realized it was the clamps.
He turned the vibrator back on and started spanking me once more. With my arms tied together, I found I could now turn to face him – although I could not see him – and attempt to protect my stinging ass. He would simply grab me by the hips and turn me back around, but as the whole situation sunk in more and more, I found myself stumbling and pacing. I felt like I was floating above myself and the only thing keeping me anchored to the situation was the stinging pain in my ass and nipples and the buzz of the vibrator.
Eventually, Craftsmate turned me to face him, removed the gag and checked in with me. “Do you want to go find a couch for a bit? You did a very good job.”
“No, no,” I replied, panting, “no, I want to keep going. I don’t want this to end yet. Is…is that okay?”
Craftsmate popped the gag back in and turned me back around.
Usually, I am really good at wriggling out of stuff. I’m fairly flexible and I have very little hands, which makes for relatively quick escapes from even the most ornate arrangements.
So, when I asked Craftsmate to tie me up and make escape as close to impossible as he could, I was still expecting to be able to get out in time to have lunch in an hour.
“Now, don’t go easy on me,” I chided.
That morning, Craftsmate heeded my request tenfold. He tied my wrists together with rope, ran one cuff through the rope, and tied the other off to the bedpost. He wrapped my arms, at the forearm and elbow, in duct tape. He tied my ankles together with rope and anchored it to the foot of the bed with a line of zip ties, which he seemed to delight in pulling tight until my body was stretched taut over the bed. He taped my vibrator against my clit and proceeded to loop my thighs in tape to prevent me from removing the vibrator. He then covered the knots in the ropes that held my wrists and ankles with tape and looped my hands in it until they were reduced to useless little fists. Finally, he blindfolded me and strapped on my ballgag before taping over it.
While I did manage to get the gag out of my mouth and shake the blindfold off, no amount of squirming could loosen any of the ropes or dislocate the tape. Although I had cleverly gotten Craftsmate to give me some water, which I proceeded to spit out onto the tape holding my forearms to loosen its hold, its removal made close to no difference.
What’s more, the vibrator on my clit was doing its job at keeping me distracted. I found I could not manage more than twenty minutes without having to stop struggling and just enjoy the feeling of it.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Craftsmate would say with a smirk. “that’s right. You just take a little break.”
When I managed to get the tape off of my fists, Craftsmate only turned the vibrator onto high to make my task more difficult.
“Why don’t you just relax?” He asked, “you know you can’t get out. Why don’t you just enjoy this and endure the consequences of begging me to let you out?”
I was stubborn. Needless to say, I missed lunch and almost three hours later I finally begged him to let me go. In exchange, I have to allow Craftsmate to do this again.
Only next time, he says, he knows a few ways to make it “better.”
Gingerrkitten
True Story: I own one of these buggers and I am way too sensitive to use it for very long.
Other True Story: I was once tied down with this thing on me for about half an hour. Excruciating. Sub-space like no other.
A Different True Story: The warm weather is giving me some freckles and they look a lot like hers.
They both know that little egg isn’t strong enough to get her off. But, he’s not going to fetch anything that could help. Especially with how precious she gets when she pouts.