Ellie Submits Pt 20

Ellie comes over to her domme's house right after her evening workout. She is worn out and hungry after the workout, and intensely horny after being ordered not to touch herself for almost a week. She is a naturally libidinous girl, and she masturbated two or more times a day before she transferred total control of her sex life to Miriam. Without sexual relief, her need to come has grown steadily to become a constant, roaring, burning fire in her heart. Working out only makes her hornier, and she works out five or six times a week. She is a little over six feet tall, with an Amazonian physique earned from more than a year of fierce training and careful dieting. Even in baggy gray gym sweats, her bulk and power are unmistakable. She is 23, with bronzed skin, blue eyes and short blonde hair which, on her domme's orders, she is starting to grow out.

Denial is a punishment for Ellie, for a incident a week earlier when she briefly tried to switch -- when, in a fit of lust, she tried turn the tables on her domme, and dominate her in turn. She very nearly succeeded. If she had managed to make Miriam come, Miriam would have shown some kind of mercy or gratitude. But Miriam resisted, and Ellie failed. And she has been punished every day since then, not only with denial, but with canings and whippings and candle wax torture. Tonight will be her final night of punishment, she hopes. But her domme likes to keep her guessing. Who knows? The uncertainty is part of what she adores about her relationship. The thrill of abject submission to another woman's control. She knocks on her domme's door, heart fluttering like a butterfly.

The door is answered by Miriam's other sub, Ellie's sister sub, Simone. Simone is an extremely petite girl with very dark skin and cropped black hair. She's so small that Ellie sometimes feels as if she could eat her up in a single mouthful. She wears a thick, oversized white sweater and extremely short black shorts. The sweater is so large that her shorts barely show. She has beautiful, smooth bare legs and dainty bare feet. As always, there is a thin loop of leather around her throat.

"Hey. You hungry?"

Ellie's stomach answers the question before she can.

Simone laughs and escorts Ellie to the dining room, where Miriam is serving a meal for all of them. Miriam is a very beautiful, very curvaceous forty-nine-year-old woman, with green eyes, well-defined cheekbones and glossy dark hair which falls luxuriously around her shoulders. She wears a long robe of dark green silk, tied at her waist. The robe clings to the curves of her generous bust and broad hips. She wears a silver necklace, with a very small silver ring threaded onto it.

Dinner is grilled shrimp with lentils and roasted greens. Ellie's serving is twice the size of the others'.

"Thank you for dinner, ma'am," Ellie says as she sits down. "It smells great."

"I hope this is to your liking," Miriam says. "I've been reading up on the kind of nutrition you bodybuilders need. Lots of lean protein, lots of vegetables, no sugar, no fat. As my sub, your body is my property, and I expect you to maintain it to the highest possible standards. I want you to be healthy and strong and beautiful... and absolutely jacked. And horny, and full of energy and always ready for sex. But as your domme, I have some responsibility too. There's no use me demanding biceps like watermelons while I feed you a diet of cake and cheesy fries."

By the time she finishes talking, Ellie has already eaten a third of her meal. She looks up with her mouth full. "Mff gmmfp."

"Exactly."

Over dinner, they talk about their days. Miriam has had a day-long interview for a new position at another firm, which she thinks went extremely well, but she hasn't heard back yet. Simone is working on her newest film script, which is coming together very quickly. She'll be heading back to California to start pre-production in the next few weeks. And Ellie is starting some research into a new family of pharmaceuticals, and there's not a lot to report yet. However, after work, she benched a new personal best.

Simone clears her plate first.

"Go to the playroom and strip naked," Miriam tells her, not looking up from her own food.

"Yes, ma'am." Simone flashes an eager smile at Ellie and scampers off.

Ellie finishes eating next. She sets her fork down and waits in silence for a while.

"Nervous?" Miriam asks her.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You should be."

After a little more waiting, Ellie gets up and kneels on the floor beside her domme's chair.

Still eating, Miriam reaches over idly and strokes her sub's hair with one hand. After a while her hand moves lower, caressing the back of Ellie's neck, and then sliding into her sweater, across her powerful shoulders, and a little way down the crease of her back. Ellie is wearing a tight, sky blue workout top underneath.

Ellie holds her position. Knees together, back straight, hands in her lap, head high. She closes her eyes and enjoys the affection.

She asks, "Ma'am, may I serve you?"

"No."

At length, Miriam finishes her last mouthful of food. She washes it down with a sip of sparkling mineral water, and then leans over and kisses her sub on the lips, sweetly and tenderly.

After the kiss, she says, "Clear the table and clean up the kitchen. Save all the leftovers, do all the dishes. I want the place spotless. When you're done, come to the playroom and strip."

"Yes, ma'am."

Miriam leaves.

Ellie carries out her assigned tasks, which takes her a little less than a half-hour. As she is working, she begins to hear a distant, very faint squealing. After her work is done, she spends a few minutes on stretches, warming her body up for what she anticipates will be a very intense session. Then she heads along to the playroom. The squealing gets steadily louder as she approaches the door.

The playroom is dimly-lit, with black beams and deep red-painted walls. Half of the playroom is like a bedroom, occupied by a huge four-poster bed. The other half is more of a dungeon, with racks of implements for beating or teasing with, and crates full of toys, and piles of restraints, and various interesting items of furniture like padded chairs and lockable cages. There are pulleys and ropes strung overhead, and leaning in one corner there are two steel poles. Each is about three feet long, and has a padded cuff chained to each end. Spreader bars.

Simone is the one squealing. She has removed her casual clothes and is now wearing half of an extremely tight black latex zentai; the top half, covering her head, shoulders, arms and upper body. Her face is completely enclosed, covering her eyes, mouth and nose, with only small holes for her nostrils. She cannot speak. The suit barely covers her breasts, and leaves her belly and most of her rib cage bare. Unusually, the bodysuit does not have full arms. Instead, they end at the elbow, with fat stumps. Inside the suit, Simone's arms are bent double, and her hands are clamped flat against her collarbones. It's a very restrictive garment, and it renders Simone totally helpless. The suit is impossible to get into without a lot of help.

Simone is wearing nothing else. She is naked from the ribs down. She is bent over the bed, face down, with her toned dancer's legs spread wide and her ankles lashed to the feet of the bed to keep them that way. She is squealing because Miriam is fucking her from behind. Miriam has opened the front of her green silk robe and now stands behind her sub, feet slightly spread, gripping her sub's hips and driving her midsection into her, vigorously, rhythmically, deeply, over and over and over.

Simone is having a wonderful time. Blind and immobilized, mouth covered, all she can do is emit muffled wails and cries as her domme rails her. On and on it goes, taking her to greater and greater heights of pleasure. She arches her back and twists her shoulders from side to side, uselessly. Sometimes she raises herself up on her elbow stumps for a second, and then collapses back again.

"Mh! Mh! Muh! Mmh! Mmm! Mh! Mmff! Mfh! Mmmh! MMMMM! MMMM! Mhhh!"

She shrieks, and gasps for breath, and climaxes for the fifth or tenth or fiftieth time. Her orgasms are starting to merge together.

Miriam doesn't slow down or turn around when she hears Ellie come in. She keeps the pace up, stuffing her little sub to bursting with pleasure, forcing it into her willing, lusty body. For Miriam, it's good exercise. She's broken a sweat, and her hair is starting to become untidy, to fall forward and across her face.

Ellie watches the scene, entranced, for a moment. She can't see exactly what her domme is fucking Simone with. It doesn't matter. She disrobes, wordlessly. She folds her clothes up on a chair and stands to attention in the center of the room, nude, a shining pillar of feminine muscle, glistening under the spotlight above her.

"The spreader bars," Miriam says, not stopping what she's doing. "One for your ankles, one for your wrists. Unf. Do the best you can."

Ellie obeys. She sits on the floor to buckle the ankle cuffs on, and then attaches one of the heavy-duty wrist cuffs. She can't do the second one by herself. Well, not quite. Maybe if she uses her teeth?

As she's trying to figure it out, Miriam slows, and withdraws. Simone moans with wordless pleasure, and squirms, and relaxes.

Miriam is a curvaceous, sensual woman, blessed with round, G-cup breasts. Her silk gown hangs from her breasts, revealing her deep, lush cleavage and firm tummy. Mounted between her legs are two hefty black dildos, glossy with lubricant and Simone's juices. They sway a little as she walks over to Ellie. Ellie gulps at the sight of them.

Miriam says, "Let me help you with that."

Ellie shuffles over, awkwardly. Miriam kneels and buckles the second wrist cuff onto her, making sure the seal is tight and comfortable. Up close, Ellie realizes just how huge both of the strap-on dildos are. They are exactly the same shape and size -- fat and straight-shafted, with thick coronas and some veiny detail on the shafts. They are much larger than anything Ellie would find comfortable putting in her vagina, let alone her anus. But she knows that Simone loves extreme penetration. If nothing else, it was obvious from the noises she was making.

There is an anchor point at the midpoint of the spreader bar between Ellie's wrists. Miriam ties a sturdy nylon rope to it, and then operates the winch control in the corner of the dungeon, pulling the rope upwards toward a pulley mounted in the ceiling. Ellie is pulled up to a crouch, and then to a standing position, and before long her arms are being held above her head, and she is forming a taut X.

With her arms and legs spread apart, her whole naked, muscular body is on display, and available for her domme's pleasure. Ellie twists, exploring her range of motion. She can stand flat-footed. She can also stand on one foot and raise the other a little. She can lift both feet if she's willing to dangle from her wrists. She can turn freely on the spot. There's no way she can get free, or protect any part of her body.

Miriam circles her, admiring her extraordinary musculature. Ellie is starting to sweat, and tremble. Her arm muscles bulge when she twists her upper body, and her powerful thighs and calves flex when she twists her lower body. Her serrati anterior, the strong V of her back, her iron-hard glutei maximi. Her perfectly defined eight-pack abdominals. The perfect angles at her waist.

And her beautiful, youthful, perky tits, and the succulent delights between her legs...

"There is no finer position than this," Miriam says, "for displaying, and critiquing, and admiring a sub's body."

"Yes, ma'am," Ellie gasps. She is so aroused right now that she wants to explode. She is totally vulnerable and totally exposed. She can feel juice oozing down the inside of her legs.

"I would say that this body is faultless," Miriam says. "A perfect, shining example of submissive flesh. A sexual marvel from its toes to its fingertips."

"Thank you, ma'am?"

Miriam circles behind Ellie. "Except. This body lacks one thing."

"Ma'am?"

There is a sound, a pleasant, single tone, like a bell chiming.

And Miriam strikes Ellie with a whip. The tip hits her directly on the shoulder blade. The blow is small, but sharp, and fierce, like a hornet sting. Ellie shrieks, and twists.

Miriam says, "Discipline."

The whipping goes on for what feels like an eternity. The whip is long, and Miriam is an expert with the thing, able to strike any area of Ellie's body with impressive accuracy, from an impressive distance. Soon Ellie learns how to dodge the strikes, and how to turn to make sure that she can always see her domme and where she is aiming. So Miriam blindfolds her with a sleep mask, and then puts a canvas sack over her head too.

And from there, Ellie descends into a pit of sexual torment. Miriam strikes every part of her body, her arms, the sides of her chest, the soles of her feet, the iliac furrows leading from the crests of her hips down to her pussy. Miriam never strikes her face or head, or her nipples, or her pussy, but does land a few painful stings on her breasts and her mons pubis. Soon Ellie feels as if her whole body is aflame with pain and passion. She drops into subspace, a space where she doesn't really exist as a conscious being anymore, and she is simply a sexual object in the possession of another woman, entirely at her mercy, bent to her whims.

Eventually, the bell chimes again.

The whipping slows, and stops. Ellie catches her breath. She shudders.

She feels a hand caress her abdomen. She flinches, then tries to control herself. Her domme's hand moves to her hip, and then down, to tease her slim lower lips, gently, delicately. The slight touch almost sets Ellie off. "Please, ma'am?" She thrusts her hips forward, trying to get a little more contact, but her domme withdraws quickly.

Then more hands begin to slide across Ellie's body. With a start, Ellie realizes that there are more than two of them, coming from different directions. There are three. No, four.

"Who's there?"

She struggles, uselessly. Nobody answers her. Did someone slip into the room while she was distracted by the whip? Were they there the whole time, hiding in the shadows? The mysterious hands follow the sharp definition of her muscles, tracing the deep grooves between them. Her linea alba, her trapezii, her bulging calves and thighs. She is a statuesque woman. Buff and strong and beautiful to behold. A figure worthy of worship and admiration. She relaxes a little, enjoying the attention. She makes happy, grateful noises.

The bell chimes a third time. It seems to be chiming automatically at regular intervals, maybe every five to ten minutes, but for Ellie it's impossible to know. In any case, it seems that this is the signal for the pleasurable manual stimulation to stop. The hands go away. Then Ellie hears the winch activate again, very briefly, for just long enough to lift her up from standing flat-footed to being forced to stand on her tiptoes. The new position is strenuous and difficult, even relative to the old one.

And now, two whips attack Ellie at once. A little less precisely now, a little more inexpertly, and the blows are less cruel. Even so, it's a severe and unpleasant experience. Ellie cries out, twisting her body like crazy to try to avoid the blows, but it's no use. She rolls her head, dazed, and her stamina starts to dwindle.

While that's happening, Simone's rhythmic squealing starts up again. Ellie tries to think about what that could mean.

There must be three dommes here. Not two, not one. Miriam is having her way with Simone -- it must be Miriam, because only Miriam can make Simone respond that way. And she, Ellie, has been left at the mercy of two strangers.

It goes on for a long time. And it hurts! "Please! I submit! Ma'am, help me!"

It seems like one of the whips falters a little when she cries out, as if whoever is using it is uncertain about continuing. But there are a few muttered words which Ellie can't make out -- most likely, explaining about her safeword. And after a second or two, both whips pick right back up again.

"Oh! Oh, my! Thank you, ma'am! Ow!" Ellie twists and yelps.

For her, it feels like another hour until the next bell chime.

Simone stops squealing once again. She makes the same exuberant moan as the last time Miriam withdrew from her. And the whipping ceases too.

"Thank you, ma'am," Ellie says. "Ma'ams. I don't know. Mistresses. I don't know who's there."

No one replies.

Ellie shuts her mouth, and waits, tense, with no idea what could come next.

It turns out to be a feather. A large peacock feather, brushing tenderly, here and there on her body. Along her sides and down her back. A second one joins the first. And then a third.

Ellie giggles. And then, as the feathers start to move to more sensitive parts of her anatomy, she begins to yelp. She isn't unusually ticklish, but the stimulation is too much, and her ability to resist the torment is low. Feathers dance across her throat, and into her armpits, and under the soles of her straining feet, which are still raised up on tiptoes. "Ahh! Ah, stop, stop! Please!" It doesn't stop. She totters around, but there's no escape. "Help! Please! Aihha!"

One feather unexpectedly passes between her legs. The sensation is delicious. Ellie strains against her spreader bars and the feather continues to move softly against her inner thighs and lips. Up and down, forward and back. Meanwhile, the other feathers cease their infernal tickling, and focus on her breasts and nipples instead. The tickle torture becomes sexual stimulation. Ellie gasps. She quivers with naked pleasure. She mewls, "Please let me come! I'm so close! I'm so close, please, PLEASE!"

But no matter how much she begs, she doesn't get it. Sweat runs down her trembling body, and a few tears emerge from beneath her hood.

Yet another chime of the bell. The feathers desist. How much more will there be?

The winch activates again. And Ellie is now lifted entirely off the ground, hanging from her wrists, body suspended in an incredible straining X, every last muscle taut and glowing. "Oh, goodness!" She hangs, gasping at the intensity of her newest, most punishing position, for a few seconds. She spins, very slowly, on the spot. Pain is already developing in her shoulders and hips. Is she going to hang like this until the next bell? There's no way she could take it.

Her domme, it has to be her domme, steps up in front of her, and kisses her nipple, suckling lovingly on it for a second. Then she puts one hand on the small of Ellie's back for stability, and rams the four fingers of her other hand up inside of her pussy.

"Oh, yes, YES!"

Ellie caterwauls with pleasure. Her domme's hand is huge, powerful and invasive and extremely tight and wonderfully pleasurable. Ellie flexes her body, riding her domme's fist, using it to support some of her weight. It isn't all the way inside of her, the broadest part of the four knuckles won't fit. (Maybe one day, after more training.) Even so, it feels incredible. The pleasure cancels out the pain in her stretched limbs. "May I come, please, ma'am! Ahh! Ah, yes! Ffffffff--"

Miriam keeps her there, on the absolute brink, for a minute, flexing her hand inside of her desperately pleading sub, until she thinks she can't take anymore.

Then she says, "No." And lowers the winch again, all the way to the floor.

Ellie folds up into a tired heap. She doesn't move as various hands unbuckle the cuffs from her wrists and ankles. The spreader bars disappear. Someone removes the bag from her head. She is still blindfolded underneath. Someone else plants a kiss on her lips. She mumbles, "Ma'am?"