Eva Inanna
Governor
Like most women, I have fantasies.
Impalement is one.
One day I told about it to Master. Over a few weeks we spoke about it until one day He told me He had a plan.
He took me shopping to a curtain shop where He asked for the wooden curtain’s rods. He told me to choose one amongst several rods.
“This is going to be your impaling pole.” He said. “Choose one and choose it well.”
After a while, I selected one. Laughing, He asked “This thin?” and instead chose a thicker one. “This will fill you better” He said.
He put the lacquered polished rod on the floor, measuring its height against me: it reached my navel
“Do you think you can take it all in?” He asked with a smirk in his face.
“Now for the finials” (the ball that goes at the end) and He selected a carved one to fit the end of the rod.
At His place, He rounded the edges of the pole, lubricated it and make me lie down with my legs wide open, inserting the pole to measure the depth of my vagina with the would-be impaling pole.
He pushed as much of the pole as I could take and He marked the length that went in, where He drilled a small hole to held a thinner dowel that would serve as a stopper to further penetration and also as wooden pony.
Then the fun began, with me throwing 5 dices that would determine how many strokes of the bamboo cane I would endure. To His disappointment I drew a mere 19
He tied the rubber bands to the base of my breasts that would swell them into bluish bulbous globes and clamped the bronze bells to my nipples.
With the wrists tied above my head, He tied me to the winch He had secured to garage’s roof, and put a large spreader bar that kept my legs widespread.
He lifted me above the ground and began lowering me into the pole until the dowel stopped the intrusion.
My cervix was resting against the pole’s head, the dowel biting hard on my cunt lips.
My now swollen tits and the contraption inside me were starting to hurt...
He watched me for a while, circling my naked body, touching me here and there, a slap to the tits, another slap on my face, a tug at the clamps, a soft punch in the tummy...
Then the flogging, harsh, relentless, painful... and the movement that I couldn’t stop making every time He hit me with the cane, made the pole to bury even further, tighter inside me, my cuntal muscles stretched beyond endurance, yet contracting and gripping the brutal intruder...
Cumming for the first of a few times, my senses now delirious, my mind a blank as I descended into subspace as the endorphins flooded my brain...
I lost track of time only to come to my senses on the bathtub where He was cuddling my rather sore body.
A few weeks later on, I begged Him to impale me again, and this time He put a finial at the end of the rod...
Later on He told me that my screaming was deafening... but I can’t remember.
Nor I remember well the few other times He tortured me on the pole.
eva
Impalement is one.
One day I told about it to Master. Over a few weeks we spoke about it until one day He told me He had a plan.
He took me shopping to a curtain shop where He asked for the wooden curtain’s rods. He told me to choose one amongst several rods.
“This is going to be your impaling pole.” He said. “Choose one and choose it well.”
After a while, I selected one. Laughing, He asked “This thin?” and instead chose a thicker one. “This will fill you better” He said.
He put the lacquered polished rod on the floor, measuring its height against me: it reached my navel
“Do you think you can take it all in?” He asked with a smirk in his face.
“Now for the finials” (the ball that goes at the end) and He selected a carved one to fit the end of the rod.
At His place, He rounded the edges of the pole, lubricated it and make me lie down with my legs wide open, inserting the pole to measure the depth of my vagina with the would-be impaling pole.
He pushed as much of the pole as I could take and He marked the length that went in, where He drilled a small hole to held a thinner dowel that would serve as a stopper to further penetration and also as wooden pony.
Then the fun began, with me throwing 5 dices that would determine how many strokes of the bamboo cane I would endure. To His disappointment I drew a mere 19
He tied the rubber bands to the base of my breasts that would swell them into bluish bulbous globes and clamped the bronze bells to my nipples.
With the wrists tied above my head, He tied me to the winch He had secured to garage’s roof, and put a large spreader bar that kept my legs widespread.
He lifted me above the ground and began lowering me into the pole until the dowel stopped the intrusion.
My cervix was resting against the pole’s head, the dowel biting hard on my cunt lips.
My now swollen tits and the contraption inside me were starting to hurt...
He watched me for a while, circling my naked body, touching me here and there, a slap to the tits, another slap on my face, a tug at the clamps, a soft punch in the tummy...
Then the flogging, harsh, relentless, painful... and the movement that I couldn’t stop making every time He hit me with the cane, made the pole to bury even further, tighter inside me, my cuntal muscles stretched beyond endurance, yet contracting and gripping the brutal intruder...
Cumming for the first of a few times, my senses now delirious, my mind a blank as I descended into subspace as the endorphins flooded my brain...
I lost track of time only to come to my senses on the bathtub where He was cuddling my rather sore body.
A few weeks later on, I begged Him to impale me again, and this time He put a finial at the end of the rod...
Later on He told me that my screaming was deafening... but I can’t remember.
Nor I remember well the few other times He tortured me on the pole.
eva
omg
