‘Cool Hand’ Miranda

Oct 4, 2014

Your Mistress showed off her astonishing poker playing skills for one lucky subbie this week as we played cards for tortures and rewards in my Hanwell dungeon. The rules were simple: if I won… he suffered. If he won… he got a sexy reward. What a terrible shame that he went hand after hand after hand with the worst luck imaginable and never managed to earn a single reward to compensate for the painful and distressing punishments which the cards inflicted upon him. Obviously I did not want to hurt him but ‘rules are rules’ and it was not my fault that he kept drawing the worst cards in the pack whilst I skilfully collected Ace after Ace to maintain my winning streak.

It got almost embarrassing as I had to inflict greater suffering on his poor body with each turn of Lady Luck’s’ wheel. He had started the game suspended in a leather strait jacket from the ceiling hoist but I promise that I never cheated in the slightest as I dealt out the cards in front of him. The first loss earned him an electric butt plug, but naturally the current had to tweak up a little each time he lost. After a few winning hands I decided to add electric body pads to really make him twitch and then the cards dictated that his balls also had to suffer the attentions of one of my electric boxes. I got worried that a few more losing hands and I would run out of boxes to plug him into.

He had been so very unlucky that I decided to move him onto my medical bench for a thorough check up and perversion treatment at the hands of my alter-ego Nurse Despair. I think he was at first relieved to be let down from the ceiling but his relief was very short-lived as he realised that his nurse was in the mood to continue the electric pumping of his rear while adding some heavy breath control procedures as well.

I know this particular slave has a terrible and overwhelming fear of suffocation and so naturally I left his face clear and free in order that he could comfortably enjoy the sight of his Mistress wearing her heavy black rubber medical apron… Oh NO, oooops… sorry… that’s a mistake… I meant to say that I didn’t leave his head free at all: I smothered him in layer after layer of tight-fitting, laced and zipped-up rubber hoods that took him to the edge of panic and beyond. Not content with scaring him silly, I added a pump-up rubber gag under all of the multiple hoods, strapped his head and throat down with wrap after wrap of clingfilm and then blocked his last remaining air hole, time after time, with my latex-clad fingers.

It was such fun to hear him whimper and slowly lose all control as layer after layer of suffocating rubber pushed his brain closer and closer to meltdown. I could vaguely hear him mumbling what might have been a prayer, or possibly a somewhat pointless plea for mercy. The irony is that he should know by now that when Nurse Despair in in her medical room, pity flies out of the window. There was no way I was going to let up on this wretch’s terror until I heard his very special and particularly humiliating safeword forced from his lips. In the end, of course, I broke him completely. It is always just a matter of time.

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