For
Loinclothslave1
I was often humiliated in front of our friends, well, those for whom the shock wore off! "You're such a slut Kate." they joked. "Yeah I know." I'd laugh. I speculated for ages with my boyfriend on what would happen if we risked offering them a glimpse of the kinky slut I really am. We tested them by handcuffing me before they came round to our house. We pretended we'd mislaid the key. I thought my heart might burst waiting for them to arrive.
"Into that are you?" his mate asked him. "She loves it." he said, grinning at me. After the ice had been broken we went further. I wore less and less and we discovered who appreciated my shame and who'd rather not be a part of it. Our social gatherings polarised into with Kate or without Kate evenings and attracted a different circle of friends. Once we'd established that and we knew everyone present would be comfortable with the erotic intensity of what we we're doing, my boyfriend let them touch me. They were mostly men of course, and Alison. The first time she stood with her mouth hanging open, watching while one of them forced my head back with a handful of my hair. We were in the kitchen and he pushed me up against the cooker. He dared slip his other hand in the front of my knickers, easy because all I was wearing apart from those was a short see through top to show off my tits. He growled "You fucking whore." in my ear. Oh god it was lovely. Alison was stunned speechless by my depravity. Sometimes she plays too now.
In time, the more adventurous of our friends asked if they might introduce me to other people they knew. We realised that what they knew of these peripheral friendships was mostly kinky and sooner or later I was mentioned on line. Sometimes someone new would be introduced as "interested in meeting me." That is he expected to be allowed to grope me or watch while someone else did. I was often restrained and unable to resist. Strangers made our game sordid and dirty and I became "Filthy Kate". Strangers are a more exquisite fear, they bring unforeseen dangers. Eventually someone wanted to torture me.
We talked about how far that should go because BF was clearly turned on by the idea and encouraged by how desperately I wanted to try it. To facilitate it we invented a new game in which he assumed the role of my Master. I handed over complete control of my sex life because I wanted my boundaries set by someone else, someone I trusted. He would sanction or deny the discomfort our guests wanted to inflict on me and I was bound to obedience. If I tapped out, I would be severely punished. I'll remember how it felt to agree to that forever. Holy fuck, what a thrill!
I'm thrilled now, waiting to be tortured.
I don't recognise the voice or any of the others I hear shortly afterwards, there are women too. These adventures always escalate. They develop a life of their own and yet another participate is always another step down into the erotic horror my sex life has become. A woman appears on the landing followed shortly afterwards by another. They're middle aged, dressed casually and obviously expected me to be here. "You're Kate then?" one of them asks. It's a stupid question, who else would do this? I'm panting too hard to say "Of course, pleased to meet you." All I can think of is the screws poised to penetrate my crotch. I'm available.
BF comes up next and explains that tonight I've been offered to someone with an alternative perspective. My two middles aged acquaintances are going to watch me experience real slavery, but I'm not the slave, I'm the slave's purpose. I'm bewildered. Above the noise of my frantic breathing I hear what sounds like the clank of chains. I've no idea what's happening as the man in them crawls onto the landing. I'm shocked by how filthy he is. I don't mean kinky enough to be chained, I mean dirty as if he hasn't been hosed down for weeks. He's naked apart from the tattered rag he's wearing as a loincloth. His mistress steps onto the landing behind him. She kicks him out of her way so she can confront me. BF offers me to her with a wave of his hand and a nod at her as if to say "Be my guest." Tonight's game is theirs.
For a moment she stands looking into my eyes as if she wants to know what I'm thinking. I'm scared, what the fuck's going on? "Do you think he deserves her?" she asks the women. They agree he doesn't.
She's wearing a loose skirt with a belt and from that hang a coiled bull whip, an evil looking scourge and a crop. There's not room to swing a whip that long up here. Her wretched slave looks like he's already tasted it. She chooses the crop and lightly taps both my tits before smacking my right nipple with it, making me yelp. Then she rattles it against the screws in my knickers and gives me a playful whack on the inside of my thighs. "Do you know what we going to do?" I shake my head because I know nothing. Is she going to whip me? Oh fuck I might fail!
No she's not. She takes the screwdriver from around my neck and drops it on the floor between my feet. Her slave will stay on his knees, he's not allowed to stand. He's not allowed to look up, he's not allowed anything. I'm available as temptation. BF smiles as she explains I've already met this man on line and indulged his wicked fantasies. I've swapped messages in which I've claimed I rubbed myself off while he told me how he'd like to torture my sex organs. "Have you done that?" she asks, smirking. I have. Apparently so has he and she caught him. He's not allowed erection without permission. His punishment for that will be to fulfil his fantasy in real life, she's arranged the opportunity with my boyfriend.
I'm astonished to watch her move behind him and drive him forward with a series of blows on his back and buttocks with her crop. He's crawls up to me, shaking. I can smell him sweat. His hands are trembling as he picks up the screwdriver against the weight of his chains and tries to place the point in the head of one of my screws.
The women are her friends. They're here to enjoy her humiliating him. I notice a wedding ring on her hand and as he tries to turn the screw into me, I see he has one too. They're married, to each other?
She thrashes him hard and harder still as he continues to wind the screws in. Sometimes he stops to rest before selecting another screw and she gives him a moment's respite, until he tries again. It's surreal, I can't believe it's happening. I flinch and jump under the crop's impact, not just in sympathy but because I feel it through the screws he's holding as he flinches too. Soon they're deep enough to frighten me. The women watch him punished, BF watches the horror on my face.
He must have taken a hundred lashes by the time he's turned the screw's sharp points into my rose and my tail hole. I'm sure I'm wounded. The pain is awful and I realise the cruelty in the game is in making one of us tap out first. I can't believe he can take such a whipping and it occurs to me that maybe his mistress will not allow failure. She'll skin him first.
"Try that one." BF calmly suggests above my squealing. He means the one which will stab my clit. I present myself, hips pushed forward to let her slave find the necessary angle from his place between my legs. He's thrashed until I feel the point impale my hood and I know if it pierces my clit I'll die in agony. "Stop please!" I scream. "I'm sorry, I can't cope." I gasp.
BF is elated. I'm going to be punished, which knowing him, will entail months of domestic slavery and nothing but motorsport on television! However she wants me punished to her satisfaction too. After all I deserve it for tempting her slave. She finds her phone, logs on to Discord and scrolls up something. It's one of my messages to him. She shows BF .............
"I'll lay in the dirt and beg you to quence my thirst both for piss and the shame of what I want you to do to me. I'll be puta esclava for as long as it takes for you to force me to swallow your piss, for you to soak my hair and my clothing and for you to profoundly wreck my dignity. I'll lift my skirt and spread my legs to let you piss on my knickers. They are never dirty enough for such a slut as me. I thought you'd leave me. You'd put your cock away, zip up your fly and return to your coffee. I'd crawl back in later, wet, stinking and totally humiliated."
I watch his eyebrows slide up his forehead then he looks at me, needing truth. "Did you write that?" he asks. Fuck!
I'm going to be forced to beg to suck the wretch's loincloth. Or the screws go further in!