I'm sure my tormentor has lots in mind. He made me take a silly test here
https://bdsmtest.org/select-mode. I thought it was a bit daft to be honest but I answered the questions honestly and it's surprisingly close to how I see myself. He showed me his results. He's not a torturer and one of our weaknesses is he's reluctant to inflict the level of pain on me my fantasies demand. We've fixed this by establishing I've given him the right to give me hell in return for his promise that he might. The threat exists, that's all I need and I have that. We are more about control than persecution. I'm bullied psychologically, that's beautiful. Maybe one day I'll show you. When we started we talked lots about how it was possible to twist my mind, to make me do things I didn't want to do by tempting me with the idea of submission to them. Is it a case of who's leading who? Despite all that slave bollocks BDSM is always a negotiated deal.
On something like that subject, having had my mind twisted by the idea of crucifixion for a week, here's Kate's early morning rub off session.............
My back hurts because I can’t cope with this stressed, arched, thighs held wide apart position on the edge of your piano stool. My hips ache, my wrists feel chafed where I’ve been pulling against my cuffs, involuntarily tensed by the pain of being tortured so badly for so long. My genitals are just raw, like they’ve been skinned and the sweat running over and into them stings.
Why have you let me rest? It’s been at least 15 minutes since the last pulse ripped into my cunt but I dare not believe this is over. I can’t afford to expect release and then be denied it. I feel fragile, if there’s more, if you’re not satisfied I’ve suffered enough I still have to be prepared to take it, I can’t let false hope weaken me.
“I know how to make her come.” she tells you and asks me ”Remember that?” That’s how she made me offer her so much, she poisoned my common sense with my own lust. “Go on then.” you say, smiling at her.
She moves behind me then twists my arms in my handcuff so they’re folded in the small of my back. This gives her space on the stool to sit down after she’s nudged me forward, onto the narrowest possible remaining part of it. If my ankles weren’t tied I’d fall of the front. My cunt’s in mid air, more easily accessible than ever.
She sits with her legs spread round me so I can feel her pert breasts brush me as she reached round with both hands. She can squeeze my tits, pinch my nipples, smooth her palms down my stomach or feel along the length of my inner thighs. So she does but I know where she wants to be. Worse, she can talk to me, teasing me with words spoken quietly into my ear. I can’t stop any of it.
“Now then Kate my dear, have we hurt you enough?” she whispers. “Yes.” I tell her so she slides her hands up my legs to rest on my cunt.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
Her left hand pulls back my hood and tip of her right middle finger finds my clit. She’s hardly touching me.
“You’re going to come back so we can do this again, aren’t you?” The thought of it’s wild. “Yes.”
“You fucking, filthy whore!” she growls. “I have to.” I gasp. She’s moving her finger tip in circles defining the tip of my clit but there’s no pressure, I can’t feel her enough.
“Why do you have to?” Telling her I know my cunt is only for the pleasure of others makes me need to feel her and I try to squirm to get her to touch me harder, but I can’t move enough and she easily avoids me. “Why do we need to torture you?” she asks. I feel her touch me again, it’s a tickle, nothing
near enough.
I tell her I don’t deserve pleasure. The only way I can truly serve, degraded, humiliated and faithfully is if my cunt is ruined, trashed and too painful to allow me my womanhood. I’m less than that. “Now you get slut hood, don’t you, whore.” she laughs, giggling at the joke.
The circles her finger tip describe reduce to a tiny rocking motion, I can’t tell if I can feel her or not but I want to so much the bruising on my aching clit’s enough for me to imagine I can. “Please rub me, oh C’mon, harder please!” I think but I dare not say it, she’ll stop.
“It doesn’t feel ruined.” she says. “Do you want it ruined?” I do. I promise to come back, I promise I’ll always be available, I want to be tortured.
She starts to push and I can really feel her at last. I tell her I want my cunt pounded, I want it fuckin’ fried, scorched, burnt useless. “Smash it, I’ll take the pain, I don’t care how much it hurts” I tell her. I want to be for the pleasure of others. I don’t want a life, only to be a whore, a cunt and used!
She’s breathing hard now. “I’m gonna destroy you ‘cos you want it you twisted fuck!” she spits in my ear. “Next time I’ll tear your worthless cunt apart and you with it.” She rubs harder and I can’t believe how much I need the pain. “We’ll fuckin’’ crucify you. Tell me you want that.”
“Yes!”
“C’mon, beg for it!”
I plead my heart out, desperate to suffer crucifixion with no idea what that might be or the presence of mind to consider it. “We’ll torture you witless, OK?” I am witless! “OK.’
“Tell me!” she barks “Please torture me!” I wail and promise I’ll take next time however bad it is.
I feel so depraved and dirty it blows my head off and I might have lost consciousness at some point.
Later……………
I’m showered, smelling sweetly once more and enjoying a well earned coffee as we chat about what an amazing experience we just had. I say I know I said all that stuff but it was heat of the moment right? I mean you couldn’t really expect me to be rational and clear headed, not off my head with sex, could you?
Then you show me my submission from the computer’s eye view and tell me I’ll be uploaded if I fail to keep my promises, even though they weren't real!
“You’re fucked!” she purrs, loving it.
Kontrolled Kate XX