The journey is beginning. I’m told to sit down on the floor as Master begins attaching me to a large, heavy steel triangle. My ankles are squeezed painfully into the metal cuffs. I guess people really can be big-boned, because my feet are going numb by the time he’s secured the metal collar around my neck and the cuffs on my wrists. He asks me to pull my legs out in front of me as far as I can. The pressure on my ankles causes me to wince, and I try to adjust my neck inside the collar — it’s so tight.
After an hour of this torture, I am released only long enough to have him pull my legs into a tight yoga position so he can tie my breasts to my ankles. I'm going from one grueling position to another, and I languish in my own helpless misery for a while. I am again untied, this time so I can stand, so that Master can handcuff my wrists behind my back, as well as put a leather strap attached to a rope on a pulley around my neck. I find it’s hard to breathe, and even more difficult to swallow. I stand on my toes to try and relieve some of the pressure, but soon I am asked to spread my legs.
Obediently, I do so immediately, only to find this lowers me and makes getting air that much more difficult. Stubborn, I resolve to stay with my legs spread for the entire two hours, only moving to turn around and show people my young body. I hear Master commanding me to bounce up and down to make my tits shake. As I’m doing this I’m told to repeat, "I'm a bondage titty slut." With a red face I do so, still bouncing, until Master has finally stopped chuckling at me. I am humiliated. Two hours have passed, and now I'm told the real fun is about to begin.
My neck is released from the strap and the handcuffs are removed. Soon, Master is tying my wrists and arms tightly behind my back with a rough rope. Completing this task, he tells me to squat down and take off my sneakers and socks. With my arms virtually useless, this is frustratingly difficult, but I finally persevere. I look up at Master to see if He is pleased, but have no time, as I’m standing up and having my own dirty socks stuffed in from one side of the mouth to the other. Clear plastic tape is wound around my head to secure the sock gag. Looking devious, Master says that I’ll be receiving a caning. Cringing, I try to prepare myself for what is to come, but soon tears are running down my soft cheeks and landing on my supple breasts. I cry out into the gag as he strikes me repeatedly on my ass, thighs, and on my tits. I’ve only had two other canings before, so they are still overwhelming. However, I find myself strangely aroused by the end of the beating.
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