The Joy of Suffering
The world was black. I tried to feel around with my hands and feet as I was dragged into the room. The utter silence inside the thick leather was deafening. I had no idea what to expect. I had been beaten before. I had worked for Paintoy where I was severely beaten. On Hardtied I was used sexually for pleasure. With OT though I didn't know what would happen.
The metal was cold against my skin. The pipe I was attached to was too low for me to stand straight, but too high for me to kneel or sit. I could see him studying my body as I struggled. His warped mind imagining what devilish delights he might visit upon me.
The device is more versatile than I could have ever imagined. He lowers it and raises it to present my body in whatever position he wants it. It's so simple yet so cruel. When he finally approaches with the whip I can't help but flinch. I love the feeling on my skin, but the crack gets me every time. His aim couldn't be any better as my nipples and clit are the first to get his attention. My gratitude escapes my lips freely.
The contortions he put me in are only meant to display my body for his amusement. The suffering he imparts to me is pure bliss.
amusement attention body clit contortion crack device devilish gratitude hand ideas lips pipe pure bliss skin suffering thick leather utter silence warped mind whip