I awakened to the wonderfully pleasant sensation of my lover's warm hand around my cock--stroking, pulling, squeezing. Eyes still closed, I slowly came to consciousness, luxuriating in her massage, feeling the blood rush to my genitals and my cock engorge. I spread my legs wide, let my jaw go slack and undulated my hips in time with her ministrations.
"Good morning, Darling," she said, her voice a soft, throaty whisper.
I opened my eyes and looked at her, noticing in the half-light a sweet but evil smile on her lovely face. I smiled as well and was about to return the greeting when she suddenly raked her nails along the length of my rigid meat. She then sank them--hard--into the tender flesh of my shaft and twisted, raising my hips off the bed and dragging a long, plaintive moan from deep within me.
"Mmmmmm...nice," she breathed. "I'd like to hear more of that."
She then resumed her gentle stroking and cuddled close, resting her head on my shoulder.
"You know what I'm going to do to you this morning, don't you?" she asked.
I closed my eyes, thought a few seconds, then nodded. It had been more than a week since I'd suffered for her and it was about time I pleased her again.
"Look at the Chair," she ordered.
I turned my head toward the side of the room and heard the quiet sound of a light switch. There against the wall, bathed in the soft glow of an overhead lamp, was the Chair. A simple, sturdy device built of heavy black timbers, it looked menacing, almost macabre. It sported leather straps for the victim's arms, wrists, legs and ankles and was fitted with a large black dildo on which he'd be impaled. Most threatening, however, were the two brass electrodes that hung from its side. Once the victim was secured in the Chair, his ass filled with the dildo, those electrodes would be clamped about his balls and the head of his cock and in turn connected to a devilishly painful electrical shocking device. The switch would then be thrown and he'd "fry"--receiving four-second jolts at four-second intervals--until his Mistress had decided he'd had enough.
I gazed at the Chair, an odd combination of fear and longing welling up within me. I knew that soon I'd be sitting there, moaning and screaming in agony as I helplessly suffered. I was afraid but I was also sluttishly attracted to the prospect. I wanted it.
My lover was well aware of this, for I'd explained to her months before, when we were just getting to know each other, that every so often I needed to endure pain...erotic pain...genital pain. I'd told her that I frequently needed to step out of my normal, dominant role and offer up my rigid cock and tender, vulnerable balls for torture. Why? I hadn't a clue. I did know, however, that for me it was a basic need, one I'd attempted to regularly satisfy since I'd been in my teens.
