"My boyfriend made it for me," the voluptuous blonde Domme informed me.
"It looks great, Mistress," I answered.
I hadn't seen an apparatus like it before. It was a dark brown wooden framework with stocks for head and wrists on one end and ankle stocks on the other. The stocks slid along a grooved board for easy adjustment.
I was already naked. She was regally elegant, in a black bustier that kept her nipples concealed. Attached to it were black seamed stockings that flowed into her patent leather stilettos. She wore black opera gloves which, she had made abundantly clear, were going to remain on at all times, including now, as she finished tightening a leather strap around my cock and sneered at me.
"Remember, sub, I'm a Domme, not a hooker. You're paying for pain, not sex. The only thing your cock is going to feel is regret for coming here. Now, lay on your back."
I shivered at the cold of the wooden floor as she locked my feet in the lower stocks and adjusted the upper stocks to accommodate me. Once I was firmly in place, she blindfolded me.
"We're going to play a game," she said, "called 'Mercy or Toes.' I'm going to put clothespins on you, in groups of ten. After each one, you will say 'Mercy' or 'Toes.' If you say 'Toes,' you'll get to suck on my toes. You like sucking my toes, don't you, sub?"
"Oh yes, Mistress," I replied.
"If you want me to stop, say, 'Mercy.' At that point the game is over. I'll release you and our time together is over. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress." I was drooling at the thought of her pretty stocking clad toes in my mouth. She thought I was another pathetic wannabe sub paying for cheap thrills. She had no idea: before she was done, I was going to drench her stockings in my saliva.
I felt the familiar pinch of a wooden clothespin on my scrotum, followed by several more. After ten, she stopped.
"Mercy or toes?"
"Toes, Mistress."
