And so I do, clean the shoes, the disgusting dirt filled bottoms of Cassandra’s shoes,
this dancer who had been my slave in the not too recent past, this dancer who will never
be my slave again. If anything Cassandra’s shoes are even filthier than Sophie’s, like she
has purposely been walking in dirt, anticipating this moment. I gag, stop, plead, but
there is not respite.
Finally Cassandra is satisfied.
“Well asshole, I hope you remember this for awhile and next time you see me be sure to
call me Mistress, rising, tossing her blonde hair as she walks out of the room.”
“Max, that was amazingly hot – watching it – knowing that there is no affection between
you two – it is different, isn’t it – even more humiliating.”
“Yes Sophie, it is even more humiliating – much more.”
“Terrific Max. Your humiliation is my pleasure. And what is my pleasure? I remember you
saying on our very first date.”
“Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
“But now it is finally time for some pleasure for you – are you ready?”
“ Are you kidding? Look.”
My cock is so hard it is “bent”. Honestly cannot remember the last time that happened.
Sophie smiles at me with great joy, perhaps proud of the effect she has had on me.
She begins playing with my cock with those cleaned up shoes. Of course she teases and
goes slow. Touching with the tip. Gently giving me a bit of an up and down rub. Electric,
incandescent pleasure. To ordinary sex what ordinary sex is to watching TV. A rub, a
touch. I beg. She rubs but misses the sweet spot. Again and again. Then a few up and downs
touching the pleasure center ramping me right up the pleasure mountain in no time at all.
Sophie explains that she doesn’t want to get me too close to orgasm cause the pre-cum
would relieve the pressure. She likes the pressure. It turns her on. That pressure on my
tightly tied balls and cock. She wants to increase it. And she does. Sophie has a
perfect, delicate skill at this, an exquisite sense of timing and a rare ability to tune
directly into my sexual state. She gives me so, so much pleasure. Yet not a drop of
pre-cum escapes the tip of my cock and the pressure on my tightly bound balls builds
almost beyond endurance.
It goes on for over an hour. My teasing. My pleasure. My reward for being a good slave
boy.
When she is done teasing me Sophie produces more bondage equipment. My hands are
released, my wrists and shoulders massaged. Then she rebinds my hands in front of me with
rope, gets on a chair and ties the rope off to a fixture in the ceiling so my arms are
forced above my head. Next she attaches a spreader bar to my ankles putting me in the
“statue of liberty” position.
The room is empty. Just me and her. I am completely helpless, entirely at my mistress’
mercy, but not afraid. Sophie, taller than me in her heels, bends down to kiss me.
Lightly. Then she takes my head in her hands and gives me a serious kiss that goes on for
awhile, our eyes open, locking. When she releases me I begin to cry. I can’t stop. She
turns and walks away.
She comes back in a few minutes holding a ruler in one hand and a flexible leather paddle
in the other. Uh oh. I know about this paddle. Nasty. The handle and the first couple of
inches of the paddle part are stiff. But the rest of the business end is thin, flexible
leather. The arrangement allows the torturer to whip the victim with some major force. A
lot harder than with a hairbrush.
“So here is the thing, Max. I can use this ruler on your balls. Or this paddle on your
ass. Your choice. It is around midnight, the club closes at 2:00, no one will bother us
till then. Expect some major pain during that time.”
Yes, as much as the paddle will hurt, even a tiny light smack to my balls will hurt more.
But the paddle will bruise me again. Some choice.
“You are totally evil, Mistress Sophie.”
“Yes, I think I am. But you have made me that way Max. Uncovered the sadistic bitch that
I hid from myself all my life”
“You are not a sadistic bitch, Sophie,” switching back to friend mode, “merely a
wonderful lover who pays careful attention to her partner.”
“I totally love how you can do that. In tight bondage. Frustrated in the extreme.
Humiliated. About to have the shit beaten out of you and all of a sudden there is my good
friend Max with some sane words of comfort.”
I positively beam at her deeply pointed compliment, still have the shit eating grin on my
face when Sophie underhands the ruler into my tightly tied, painfully aching sperm filled
balls causing the grin to turn into a piercing scream.
“Nooooooooo. Oh god please – don’t do that – it is beyond bearing.”
“So you want me to beat your ass with this paddle instead?”
“Yes – the ruler is too much. My balls too sore already. “
“Hmm, perhaps in a bit, if you beg me very hard.” smacking my balls with the ruler hard
enough to make me feel like I might pass out. I scream again.
“Please mistress Sophie. Please beat my ass with the paddle. Please, I beg you.”
To which pleading Sophie simply laughs. “What a fucking turn on Max. I love this. Love
hurting you. Especially on your balls. Especially knowing how I have made them so full of
sperm.”
And she smacks my balls again with the ruler, this time causing me to actually see stars
and feel woozy.
“Please, oh please mistress,” I screech starting to get hysterical, twisting and turning
in my bounds as well as I can, “I can’t stand it. Please whip my ass instead. Please.”
Sophie looks at me. Closely. Takes a deep breath. Leans down and kisses me. Then puts
down the ruler, picks up the paddle and smacks my ass so hard that the whipping action of
the flexible leather business end against my butt sounds like a gunshot in the empty room,
startling both of us so we break down into giggles for a few seconds. Sophie gathers
herself, puts her game face back on and whips me again, just as hard and again and again
and again. I clench my jaw trying to be brave but by the tenth or twelfth lash am
screaming with pain, gasping for breath at the rapid fire blows, begging Sophie for mercy
when I can find the air. In answer she walks around to face me, stands up on the chair so
her pussy is about level to my eyes and pulls aside her thong, letting me see how wet she
is, how engorged her clit, how much she is enjoying beating the shit out of me. It should
be scary, my mistress’ sadism. Instead her pleasure makes me feel deliriously happy.
But the beating continues, the pain growing unbearably intense, making me frantic for it
to end, thrashing about in my bonds. Various girls wander in to watch, to applaud, to
laugh at me as I scream. It goes on, and on and on and on and on and on, Sophie’s stamina
awesome. After perhaps forty-five minutes am starting to get woozy. Sophie shoos the other
girls, caresses me tenderly, massages my arms and shoulders, kisses me fiercely over and
over, in between telling me how wonderful and brave I am being.
All utterly fantastic. Almost like falling in love.
“Oh Max, I probably should let you go. I know this is extreme for you but I want to hurt
you more, listen to you scream and cry. I hope it is OK.”
“Please Mistress. Please no more. It hurts so much. And my ass is getting so bruised.
Please no more, I beg you.”
Sophie picks up the paddle/whip. “Suffer for me Max,” she says before she lashes my
horribly bruised ass yet again. And again. And again. For another fifteen or twenty
minutes till I am transported beyond pain into a zone of thrill and desire that seems more
intense than anything can ever remember.
She lets me down around 1:15AM. Am allowed to untie my balls and I feel fantastic.
Endorphin high, love, desire, relief, a heady mixture for sure. We spend the rest of our
time holding hands, talking of our lives, talking of the complex wonderful weirdness of
our relationship. Despite our agreement, despite what Sophie said prior to beating me it
seems impossible to keep things in bounds. I am married. I am her customer. Money is
exchanged. This should not be happenning but it is happenning. Wherever we go it stares at
us. How easy it is to be together. How much we are alike, how much we agree about almost
everything. How insanely hot the sexual play.
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