Slaves Self Torment

Oct 14, 2012

An interesting exercise in self-torment this week for one of my poor slaves, driven mad by frustration and lust for his beautiful Mistress. Realising how desperately he wanted to please me, I decided to stay silent, sit back and supervise whilst he punished himself with some of the vast range of equipment displayed within my dungeon. It gave him the chance to imagine he was all along in the playroom with the chance to do anything he had ever wanted. All an illusion of course, but it was a delight to watch his indecision as he tried to select a suitable set of nipple clamps. Would he choose a painful pair, with vicious teeth to tendereise his nipples? Or might he pick a gentler, squeezy-set to make the experience a little kinder? In the end, he plumped for the nasty nippers. Perhaps he – quite correctly – deduced that I would have eventually made him suffer more for taking the easy option, and that an hour of nipple pain was a small price to pay for being in my good books. Nice things happen to slaves who please me.

From that promising beginning, the session got better and better for me as I watched him struggle to replicate the unique experience that only I can actually deliver within the walls of Hanwell Manor. Honestly, if it were not for the fact that I need to look after his safety, I might as well have left the building, as he skillfully inserted a decent-sized, metal butt-plug and connected it up to the electric box. He then had the same worry of deciding how high he should turn the power dial; but I was gratified to see that he didn’t wimp out on me when it came to fucking himself in the arse with a wave-pattern of powerful electrical impulses. I could hardly have done better myself. I found myself laughing out loud as he unsuccessfully tried to lock his own balls into one of my electric humblers. Even for me, it does require a lot of ball-tugging and stretching to put those humblers in place, and so I wasn’t surprised when he gave up the idea as a bad job after ten minutes of wrestling himself into evermore contorted positions on the dungeon floor. 

There was a little more success in sliding his cock into one of my wanking machines so that he could just lie back for a while, suffer the pain in his nipples and rear, and dream of me while the machine’s incessant rhythm took him closer and closer to the orgasm he was so desperate to enjoy.  I had warned him that there would be a price to pay for any unauthorised milking, so he knew that, if he came, he would have to smear his own spunk all over his face and let it dry, as well as taking a shower with the full jug of my piss that I had kindly donated to lubricate the proceedings, and which was sitting just a few feet away from his face on the floor. I had thought that this particular slave would lack the self-control needed to behave, but he surprised me by pulling himself out of the machine at the last moment and opting for continued frustration, rather than instant gratification.

I suppose he is hoping that I might permit a spunking on his next visit. Well, we shall have to see about that. This slave has had a ruined orgasm before at my hands and, truth is, I do feel sorry for his poor aching, overfull balls, but as I often remark to my helplessly-bound slaves: “pity doesn’t live in this place.” He will need to earn that relief with some exceptional service before I consider taking him properly in hand.

 

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