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Bill’s Basement

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Bergie14

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Bills basement
I’d taken three steps inside his front door and he ordered me to stop. He took my bag from my hand and walked back a few steps.

“Strip,” he commanded. “Everything off. Drop it to the floor.”

I nodded. I took off my coat and dropped it, and then removed my shoes and socks. My shirt was next. As I slid my pants down he could see that only a tiny, leopard-print thong was left, and that my hard on was straining it. I hesitated.

“Strip,” he repeated. “Then put your hands up.”

I did, and he walked closer, looking at my now naked body very closely. “You have chosen to surrender to me. You have stripped. I will now check you for weapons. Lay on the floor over there, face up. Once I’ve inspected you, we will go downstairs and you will complete your surrender to me.”

“I don’t have any choice but to surrender to you,” I said. “You know that.”

“It doesn’t matter WHY you have surrendered. All that matters is that you will do what I say and suffer for my entertainment.”

After I got on the floor, he took no time at all to secure my hands. My arms were now stretched out to either side of me. My cock was still hard: if anything, it got harder as he tied me. My ankles were free, at least for the moment.

"Spread your legs," he ordered as he opened a bag of his own. "Before I take you for your punishment, I need to be sure that you are unarmed."

"I'm not armed," I protested. "Where would I put it?"

He smiled. "Let's find out." From his bag, he produced a dildo and some lube. Quickly, he poured lube generously on the dildo and turned to face me. "If you're hiding something in your ass, this is REALLY gonna hurt. Of course, it'll probably hurt either way." He paused and kneeled next to me. "Lift your hips." I did as instructed, and he slowly moved the dildo inside of me. I grunted softly upon entry.

"Having fun?" he smiled as he worked the dildo with one hand. "Leave your hips up," he ordered. I felt a prostate massage happening, but I could not detect the cause. My cock was still hard.

"Let's really make sure," he laughed and rammed the dildo into me more aggressively. I groaned louder this time. "Yeah," he sighed, "nothing there." Slowly I felt the dildo being removed. My hips sagged back to the floor.
"But," he continued, "there's one more place that we really should look." Firmly, he grabbed my hard cock with his left hand. With his right, he used his thumb and forefinger to open my piss hole.
“Yep,” he smiled, “you’ve got some precum in there just waiting to dribble out.” He continued to pry open my piss slit to keep looking inside. “I think I’m satisfied—for now.” He paused. “You’re ready. I’m going to untie you. You will then stand and put your hands behind you. Don’t attempt to cover your cock or even reach for any of your clothes. We’re going downstairs where I will torture you. Keep your hands behind you. Do I need to bind your hands?”

“No,” I replied. “I am your prisoner.”
“Yes.” He quickly untied me. I stood and clasped my hands behind me. He carefully looked me over. “Ok. Downstairs.” He pointed, so I led the way.

Once downstairs I turned and faced him. He pointed to the St. Andrews, and said “Stand with your back to it. Raise your hands. We start there.” Somewhat reluctantly, I did as I was told. My shaft was still stiff.

First my right wrist was fastened to the St Andrews, and then my left. I offered him no resistance, as an affirmation of my surrender. He looked me over, and then resumed his work on my ankles.
Once completed, he took his time selecting a couple of whips. Carefully, he rubbed them both on the front of my body. My restraints had me unable to even squirm, so I could only consider what was to come. Of course, this was exactly what he wanted.

Deliberately, he wrapped each whip in its turn around my hard cock. The wrap was designed to engorge the tip of my shaft, and it definitely accomplished that task. As he repeated the process with the second whip, he took time to finger my tip. The precum that dribbled out was smeared on my chest.

Now he unwrapped the second whip and stepped back. Gently at first, he targeted my thighs with the first whip, showing his usual pinpoint accuracy. Then the strokes became more firm, but the target was the same. Sweat formed on my skin.

Soon, however, he tired of this and began to use the second whip. It’s target was my abs and lower torso, again biting with pinpoint accuracy. My hard shaft began to wilt as I suffered the lash, but it retained it’s girth.
Once my skin was fully reddened, my chest became the new target. The same whip was now used to attack especially my nipples, and my grunted responses pleased my captor. Sweat now was rolling from under my arms and around my neck, and my reddened skin shined with that sweat.

“That was fun,” he smiled as he stopped. “Guess what I’m going to do to you next!”

He unfastened my ankles and the my wrists. “Turn around,” he quietly ordered, and then went about re-attaching me to the St Andrews.

“This will hurt,” he matter-of-factly informed me. He rubbed his whips against my back gently at first, and then more aggressively. He repeated this with my ass and then the back of my legs.

“Let me in, captive,” he quietly commanded, and I knew what he wanted. Having no option, I let him finger me without objection or resistance. At first I made no sound at all, but then almost in response he became more assertive. “That’s right, captive, take it,” he barked and forced a grunt out of me. Once he was satisfied a few minutes later, he withdrew his finger.

Silently he moved to his position to administer the whipping. Without warning he lashed me three quick times. After five more, I collapsed what little I could against the St Andrews. Sweat poured off me. “Suffer,” he quietly ordered. I was. Even the back of my legs were on fire, and he knew it. A grunt came from my lips now after each lash. “Yes!” he shouted as he saw me suffer.

“We will stop the whipping now,” he suddenly announced. “You’ve surrendered, and stripped in front of me. I’ve broken your resistance. Now it’s time for you to suffer my experiments.”

“The examination table is next for you,” he needlessly pointed as he released first my ankles and then my wrists. Slowly, I made my way there as he worked at a table preparing the “experiments” that were in my future.
“On your back,” he ordered. I winced at the thought of my sore back making contact with his examination table, but I knew that soon my back was likely to be the least of my concerns. He grabbed each wrist and pulled them to the top of the table. He secured them forcefully, and then aggressively tested them. I was definitely helpless.
He repeated the process with my ankles, but added weights hanging off the end of the table to those restraints. He’d effectively created his own rack, and I was effectively being stretched. He smiled at his own ingenuity as I softly grunted. My naked body, being taken in by his gaze, responded with a firm erection—which only created a target for his first experiment.
The wand in his hand began to vibrate after he pressed a switch at its base. My legs were spread wide enough to offer him all kinds of access to my fully restrained body, but he didn’t begin there. Instead, he gently took my cock in his left hand, and with his right he held the vibrating wand against the underside of the base of my shaft.
“Can you feel anything?” he smiled. Then he moved the wand up and down the underside of my hardening cock. “By the way, I have not given you permission to cum, so I wouldn’t entertain that thought if I were you.”
Cruelly, he laughed. “Time for more weight on your ankles, don’t you think?”
To be continued....
 
Why do you not end your stories ? Though that I'm lesbian, I like to know how men can feel the pain and how their Master can do to bring this pain ...
 
Why do you not end your stories ? Though that I'm lesbian, I like to know how men can feel the pain and how their Master can do to bring this pain ...
For that matter, if there are particular elements of the story you’d like me to explore, I’d love to know. I get blocked when writing, and sometimes it is difficult to get past that and finish.
 
Why do you not end your stories ? Though that I'm lesbian, I like to know how men can feel the pain and how their Master can do to bring this pain ...
Also, if you’d like to see me in the loincloth I wore that day, just let me know—I understand you are not interested in men, but if you’d be curious I could show you the pic.
 
Also, if you’d like to see me in the loincloth I wore that day, just let me know—I understand you are not interested in men, but if you’d be curious I could show you the pic.
It's not really the loincloth which interests me but how a man can suffer ... :D
I'm a little astonished ( ... or not in fact, you're so much proud of it !) how you put your fantasy to your cock and the fact that you've not to ejaculate without your consent'master ...
For us, my lover'girl and I, we dont care of my own orgasm during the torture ( though that I can have one due to the torture !) ; no, we wait for the end of the bdsm'session before having sex'relation and of course orgasms ...
 
It's not really the loincloth which interests me but how a man can suffer ... :D
I'm a little astonished ( ... or not in fact, you're so much proud of it !) how you put your fantasy to your cock and the fact that you've not to ejaculate without your consent'master ...
For us, my lover'girl and I, we dont care of my own orgasm during the torture ( though that I can have one due to the torture !) ; no, we wait for the end of the bdsm'session before having sex'relation and of course orgasms ...
Well, it isn’t really his approval that is the issue. For whatever reason, in my head the person torturing me must not watch me cum. It is sort of a matter of pride. So I’m trying to hold it in so that he doesn’t, unless and until he breaks my will to do so—and that’s what he does. Does that make sense?
 
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