Of course, dear.
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“Of course, dear. Of course, I understand. Five of them? All weekend? Anything they like? Anything?? Yes, dear, I do know what I am. I’ll be waiting for them. Good bye. I love you!”
Eleanore’s husband rang off. She had almost two hours to prepare herself, and the house. Collar, wrist and ankle cuffs for her. Nipple clamps, of course, the clovers. A four-ounce weight on each. That was going to hurt! She hated those bloody clamps!
Toys laid out in the living room. Whips, canes, floggers. The pear! How she hated that thing! Gags. Buttplugs. The electroplay equipment.
She went to the bathroom to shower, and to ensure that there was not a single stray hair to mar her nakedness. Forty-five minutes to go. She locked the collar around her throat. Ankle cuffs, the ones with the short chain. She threaded the handcuffs through the ankle chain. Once locked onto her wrists, she would be unable to get out of her kneeling position. Her breasts would be thrust out, the weights on the clamps dragging her already sagging dugs down.
She picked up the first clamp. She hated these things! They hurt! The burning ache, the sharp jags of pain as she moved and the weights dragged at her nipples. She took a deep breath. “Oh fuck!” She screamed out loud as the clamp crushed her left nipple. The swinging weight jerked her nipple rhythmically. Whimpering softly, she picked up the other clamp. “Why do I do this?” Her voice was soft, as she applied the clamp to her right nipple. “FUUUUCCKK!!! Fuck you! Why do I love you so much???” She removed her watch, checked the time. Forty minutes to go. She knee-walked to the side table, placed it there, face down. Time was irrelevant now. She was now totally naked, except for the wedding ring. He insisted she keep that on. To show the world that she was, truly, a slut-wife. She knee-walked back to her place opposite the front door, off the carpet, on the bare wooden floor. The clamps tugged painfully at her nipples.
Now for the contact lenses. She would effectively be blind. They allowed her to see darkness and light, and to detect some movement, but that was it. The blindness was a part, a major part, of the excitement. She would never know who had used her, who had abused her. In the street, they would know her. Every time a man smiled at her she would wonder? “Have I sucked him off? Has his cock filled my bowels with his seed?”
She felt behind her for the handcuffs. They, whoever they were, would have the keys. It was a bit of a struggle, but soon her hands were cuffed to the ankle chain. She settled down to wait. Her knees hurt; her nipples were burning! She shook them, aggravating the pain, but, for a few moments, transferring the pain to a different, almost welcome level.
Far out, @theseus did you write this for me? My Ghod that pressed so many buttons. Miss Loinclothslave is positively panting just reading this!
Chained, kneeling, and waiting. With all those tools for pain waiting to be used just as she wants, nay needs, them to be….
Trust you to then find an even deeper humiliation for her to suffer as her opening act!
Trust you also, as usual, for leaving an open ending so I can dream up a variety of erotic finishes!
Thank you as always!