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Sara, a Slaves Tale
Based on a true story by. Thomas Can
Comments or suggestions, thomascan06@yahoo. com
The late afternoon sun indicated the passage of time from the beginning of this session, which had started sometime after a late lunch and one part of Sara wondered how long she could last under her Master’s torments while another part of her prayed it would never end. She was being forced to surrender, to yield her desires and her sexual response to her Master and the feelings and emotions that ruled her being at the moment were more powerfully erotic than any fantasy.
Now she stood in her apartment clad in only garters, stockings and high-heels, while her breasts were framed by the shelf bra her Master had presented her with only that morning, it shaped and lifted her breasts while covering little and it seemed to her when she’d tried it on, that the bra simply enhanced and presented her bare breasts to her Master and now he was using them like a God used a sacrifice.
There had been several unusual items in her Master’s suitcase when he came to visit, that had fascinated her, but he had told her she would see what they were used for soon enough and now she was engaged in the discovery process.
She was standing, loosely secured to a table by ankle ropes that allowed her to shift her feet, but not to move very far away from the table, her arms tied snugly behind her and a leather gag limited her sounds to animal-like cries of pain or pleasure. The source of such sounds, were her extraordinarily responsive nipples. She had discovered early on as a teen their sexual potential, but only recently has she learned their overwhelming arousal potential when they were in pain The dark pink tips were even now, swollen and stiff, and bent towards the side due to the thin while cords that pinched the base of each nipple tightly and then joined into a single strand trailing away from her toward the doorway where they ran over a pulley the then hung down weighted by a large steel hook on which hung 5 one pound weights.
She had been placed in this position to please her Master by causing her own climaxes and every 5 minutes that went by without her “climaxing sufficiently” – whatever that was supposed to mean, allowed him to increase the weight that had already forced her nipple to be stretched far beyond their normal confines and pain this caused was creating a cascade of wetness in between her legs. Secured to the tabletop was a large vibrator of the sort people bought to massage sore muscles. The large head was sufficient to cover the whole of her sex, but the table was markedly lower than her center of pleasure and when she stood straight the pleasuring head of the tool was some inches below directly under her sex but at a level just above her knees. To gain stimulation she had to squat down, but this required her to pull the weights upward suspended just from her tormented nipples. For some reason the idea of pulling on those sensitive tips herself was harder than the pain her Master inflicted and she inwardly flinched away from the idea. Twice she’d forced herself to move downward until her soaked sex had come in contact with the vibrator and both times she had cum fast almost instantly, but her clit was so sensitive after cuming no matter how much she wanted to she couldn’t endure continued contact and when she backed off the second time she knew, at least she sensed she had displeased him.
“You must learn to embrace discomfort!” he commanded.
