I am one of several slaves my Mistress Marisa keeps in her household. I am completely owned as are the other slaves that serve her. These episodes are written with her permission. It is my, our story...
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I'm restrained over the whipping horse so tightly that I can't move an inch in any direction. My wrists and ankles stretched out, arms and legs held wide apart shackled to the feet of the wooden horse by my wrist and ankle cuffs. I can see myself in the wall mirrors. I am wondering what I did wrong, so afraid. I thought I pleased you, really thought I pleased you.
I've been down here since you led me by my hand two hours ago, after I was used to make you cum. You came so hard, twice. My face pushed up into you while you sat on the couch in your living room. I can still taste your wetness all over my mouth and face. I am still in the pink high heels and ruffled panties you have me dress in to be your sex toy around the house, the way you dress me when not doing my domestic maid duties and chores. My outfit is a constant reminder of my sissy status, as you like to remind me...'Pink panties and heels, Princess, proper dress for a sissy like you, wouldn't want you or anyone else thinking you're my boyfriend or anything like that.' I can hear your beautiful voice saying that. You remind of that often.
You enter the basement whipping chamber and are not alone. A naked boy in a humbler, his balls pulled back and fastened between the cruel wooden planks behind his legs, you lead him by his hair. He's bent forward trying to move, wincing with every step, can barely stand, he's hunched over. I hear him whimper as your thin riding crop drives him forward, hear the loud 'CRACK' as it meets his naked rear end, his balls. I see you holding him tightly by the hair, your fingers knotted in it on the back of his bent-forward head.
"Move, bitch! Do you think I have time to baby your ass?!?"
You bring the crop down twice across the same place just under his balls, under the humbler. He screams out in agony.
You lead him to the back of me. He's your latest boy-toy. I am so jealous of these new slave boys, most very manly, very well hung, most get to fuck you. I hate them. See them arrive at your home, me answering the door. See them retire to your playroom...or your bedroom.
"You stay right there, keep that face right there, don't you fucking move!"
The boy is inches from my rear end. I feel his nose brush the back of my panties. I can feel his breath on the back of my thighs. He's crying, can't help himself. He's sobbing hard.
You are as you were when you marched me to the basement, in spike heel ankle boots, very sexy sheer lace panties, bustier and hair up in a tight bun. All black, I instantly feel my little penis stir, let out of its cage as you restrained me over the whipping horse. You removed my cock harness, I see it on the floor I front of my face. I get instantly hard when I see you like this, can feel my little thing start to stand up slightly inside of my panties.
You used me to make you cum prior to whipping your new boy. You allowed me to actually lick you, panties down, had me go down on you. I can still feel and taste you. I can still see the naked boy fastened by a ring in his collar to the metal ring in the floor in the room I serviced you in. I heard him whimper from the humbler you put him in prior to having me go down on you.
I see your new boy in the wall mirrors of your whipping room. His face covered in tears. I see you look at me in the mirror.
"Don't worry, princess, you jealous little bitch. I didn't fuck him after I took you down here. As if that's any of your business. I whipped him instead. He has much to learn, don't you, baby."
You purr, laugh as you say the last part, hear him whimper, 'yes, Mistress, yes...'.
You move quickly to me, pull my panties down as far as they will go, only to just below my cheeks. You stretch them down over the curve of my butt. I feel the tight ring of the crumpled panties dig into my legs. My spread and restrained legs keep them from going any lower down my legs. I feel the boy's face as you push him up into my rear, feel his wet face, his blubbering mouth. He's openly sobbing.
"You pull your face away, move an inch, and I'll whip your balls."
I see him in the mirror bent at the waist, face in my rear, standing with his legs pulled tight together trying to avoid the pain of the humbler you have him in securing his balls, pulling them back behind his legs. You move to the cabinet at the wall as you shout at the boy.
You take wrist cuffs and attach them to the boy, lock each to the cuffs that hold my ankles locked to the whipping horse. He is pulled down, his face to my butt, bent severely forward. You take a large belt out of the cabinet and move back to me and the boy. You are moving deliberate and quickly. You loop the belt up and around my bent lower waist, then up and around the back of the boy's neck below his head. You cinch it tightly, so tight it hurts my lower stomach, you cinch his head and face tightly up and into my rear end.
You move away. You admire your work.
He is pulled up into my butt, held so tight he can barely breath. I feel him squirm. He's hunched over, humbler pulling at his balls. I see him squirm slightly from foot to foot as he bends, forced to bend into my rear end, feel his wrists and hand struggle at my ankles. I feel his face move and writhe between my cheeks.
I see you pace slightly, check it all from different angles. Me, restrained over the horse, the boy restrained up into my ass. I feel his lips quiver on me. He is openly crying hard. I feel his body tremble.
