KurvyKate
Does he know how this works? The first shock’s too harsh and before I can complain his electrodes are stabbing at my nipples, disabling my capacity to think clearly. I can’t complain, god no, I must never do that! Somehow I have to try to advise. I’ve been forthcoming in admitting that electric shocks will make me come but aren’t we going to talk about it first? It’s necessary, I’ll fail if he’s unknowing and mistakenly brutal.
The power increases apparently automatically and before long each pulse tears at my nipples like it’s momentarily ripping them off. I can’t talk, I can only cry out in agony. This is the wrong mode, the wrong setting, if there are anymore. Sweat’s running off me, I’m crying, wailing uncontrollably before the torment stops but I can catch my breath before it starts again. He holds my head up so I can look at him, because he wants to offer me a reward! Yes, he is going to force me to orgasm. “Please, let me tell you how, please?” then I add “Please, before you fucking kill me!”
“Start slow, numb me first, then turn the power up.” Is all I have time to say before my nipple torture escalates to unbearable again. I’m desperate to make him see sense before he expects my genitals to suffer like this too. At least he’s interested and we wait for the current pulsing through my breasts to subside and allow me coherence and the luxury of breathing once more.
Use the shocks to numb me then I can take more I tell him, my voice hoarse from screaming. Quickly while I still can I try to make him understand I’ll never cope with the power necessary to make me come if I’m not prepared carefully first. “Threaten me, scare me with it, don’t just fuckin’ do it!” I growl at him. Intrigued, he switches it off, I didn’t think he would.
He wants the power turned up as high as he thinks I deserve. OK, I know that. I’m locked in his pillory, unable to do anything about it. I can’t stop him, I know that too but he wants to watch me come right? I point out that he’s at liberty to mercilessly torture me for nothing if that’s what he wants but is that really what we’re doing? “Please, help me suffer?” I plead, sobbing and sniffing tears. I’ll come, I’ll have no choice but if he’s going to use my body doesn’t he want to know how to get the best out of it? I tell him he’ll need my head too!
The violent, simple pulses hurt with none of the tingling sensation I need. I tell him I know I’m the sub here and it’s not my place to demand anything, particularly when it comes to the pain inflicted on me, but please, could he try to learn me? I’m genuinely desperate, he sees that. I shake my head, I cry so earnestly he must take pity on me. I’m crushed, I’m humiliated and I’m pleading my heart out. “Please help me?” I sob.
My tearful eyes can’t focus on him as he says “OK, we’ll try another one.” and he presses a button. Is he smiling at me? I gasp “Oh fuck!” as this new agony grips my tits. He laughs at that.
I writhe and twist in the pillory for all the good it does me, unable to keep still. The power rises to its peak in the cycle but I can breathe through the pain this time, panting, hauling air into my lungs. “Happy now?” he asks, the inflection in his voice sarcastic, as if my answer didn’t matter. Then he lights up my rose, no longer mine but his, the whore’s cunt he’ll torture as he sees fit.
Slow, long pulses build and subside, then build higher as the same cycle of torment applied to my breasts reaches deep between my legs. It feels like my poor, sore clit’s in a vice but the agony is not pure pain but something else, something I feel through my whole lower body.
After a while, satisfied by my willingness to suffer this alternative torment he gives me a metal bar, placing it my right hand. If I drop it before I’ve come twice, I go back on the horse! I’m horrified by the idea that he thinks I’ll come in quick succession. I’m not a silly porn actress, I’m real, I need time. “Please let me rest!” I cry. I mean before he tries to make me come again but he thinks he’s been far more merciful than the whore that I am and her cunt deserves. The automatic cycling stops when he selects manual control and leaves me coping with the dizzying stress of so much current surging through my sex organs. I cling on to my metal bar like my life depends on it!
“Grip” is a good word to describe how it feels. The electricity claws at me internally, reaching past the pain, the fiery hammer blows my clit and my labia feel, making me thrash in my restraints. My nerves are burned out and orgasm is hardly physical at all but it overwhelms my brain. My intelligence fails for the moment I scream at him to turn the power off. It’s an anguished, animal howl and frightens him into letting me relax.
However I’m not relaxed. I’m confused, almost blacked out. I can feel my ribs heave as I struggle to breathe hard enough. I’m shaking, rattling the locks on the pillory, sweat and tears pooling in the floor under it. Does he wonder if I’m OK? I’m sure he’s unsure. The ruthless tormentor he wants me to suffer wouldn’t ask, he can’t. He has to wait for me to calm down anxiously believing I will. I haven’t dropped my bar.
Cautiously he starts shocking me again. I’m sensitive having come but externally numb from so powerful a current. I’m worried, holy fuck it hurts! I’m torn apart by it. Would branding me with a red hot poker be easier?
I concentrate on the idea that I’m being sexually tortured for the erotic gratification of my torturer and he’s taken my cunt, available simply as the means to torture me. I’m worth nothing, he doesn’t care, although my fantasy is only possible because he does! My whole body is tensed rigid, my teeth clenched and my knuckles white on the bar in my hand as each pulse reaches its peak. All I want is to survive the next.
“You didn’t think this would happen? You stupid slut, you worthless fuckin’ whore Kate! You deserve every minute of this, you need your cunt ruined!” I think, degrading myself to make the pain inflicted on me necessary as punishment for my depravity. That works and I feel so fucking filthy the shocks force me to orgasm again reducing me to the same breathless wreck as before.
We do it again, and again, until I can’t think anymore. It hurts so much I can’t hang on to my fantasy. The murderous pain destroys my will to continue and I eventually drop the bar. He switches the power off immediately it clatters onto the floor at his feet and I hang, limp and exhausted, praying my ordeal has ended.
He has to hold me up one the pillory is unlocked and almost carries me to the bath room, inside his house. I’ve not been in that before. I’m soaped up and bathed, he untangles my hair, dries me then massages oil into me, soothing my whip wounds and the grazing caused as I fought my bonds unaware of the damage I’d caused. And I mean massaged oil into me. My rose is my rose again, it’s not ruined but it’s owned as I am. I suffer his slippery fingers up my arse, of course he owns all of me!
I’m chained in bed. Did I look at him thinking “Oh god, it’s not over?” but today it is. He’s pleased with me, he calls me “My slave” as if I’m a prized possession. He tells me tomorrow will be “fun”, we’re going out. Shattered, I fall asleep unable to reconcile the public humiliation I imagine I’m in for with the happy, cheerful concept of fun. It’ll be hell, of course it will, it has to be, to make him proud of me. I want that more than anything.