A Need for Touch

Sir was stroking his cock not six inches away from my face. I wanted him to command me to lean forward and lavish it with my mouth. I wanted him to reach out his hands, grab me by the hair, and fuck my face. I wanted him to jerk himself off and spurt his come on my face. I wanted it so badly, I could barely remember ever wanting anything else.

But I couldn't have it, not unless I'd earned it. And I couldn't earn it now unless Sir had already decided that I'd earned it earlier, before dinner, before I took my place at his feet. I was completely at his mercy: I knelt beneath his desk on the sybian, buzzing at a teasingly low speed, my legs taped to either side of it, my arms strapped tightly to my torso. There was a spider gag in my mouth, as there has been for the two hours I'd been here, wanting nothing more than to be of use.

Sir suddenly kicked the sybian into medium gear. "Come," he ordered lazily. I complied, juices running down my thighs, which had gone numb from the vibrations and lack of movement almost an hour ago. It was nothing compared to my relief. That was my eighth: if I had only managed to earn ten, then I had been good enough to earn his cock.

But it soon became clear that I had not been good enough. The sound of the key turning in the lock reached my ears, and I whimpered in terror. Madam was home, and I haven't earned the privilege of being touched in over a week.

"Has she been good?" she asked, after kissing him deeply.

"Not good enough," Sir replied sadly, still stroking his cock. "She only earned eight."

I cringed in shame. Madam sighed, disappointed.

"I think she might need to spend the night in the shed," she told him. I whimpered again: I knew it was coming, but I still hated the shed.

"We can't go easy on her just this once?" Sir asked hopefully.

Madam laughed. "You just enjoy watching her eat your come out of my cunt," she teased him.

"Do I ever!" he said. They kissed again then, and kissing lead to stroking, and stroking lead to Madam sinking down on Sir's cock, still inches away from my face.

When they stood, there was fluid dripping down Madam's legs. I longed to clean them with my tongue, longed even more for Sir to force my head down against her pussy as he pounded into my ass. I wanted her fingernails to claw into my breasts and his hand to beat my backside purple. I wanted to be touched, I wanted something human on my skin, whether it bought pain or pleasure.

Madam and Sir left me beneath the desk, the sybian still on medium, as they showered and readied themselves for bed. It was second nature by now, not to come, to hold myself on the edge of climax, but that didn't make it easy.

It was Madam that came back out to feed and water me that night, first undoing the gag, then holding the water bottle for me to drink, and extending a fork with a sausage on it for me to eat. Then she undid the straps and cut through the tape, before turning the sybian off. She was careful not to touch me, and I was careful not to shift so she would. If I did that, things would only get worse.

"Come," she ordered, tugging on my leash. I came, my pussy clenching and contracting in the vain hope that something would fill it.

"Crawl, you stupid slut," she ordered, but she sounded amused.

It was snowing when she led me into the backyard, with a good inch already sticking to the ground. She watched as I pissed and shat against a tree, shivering, before leading me into the shed. It was cold, though it warmed up quickly once the space heater was on.

"Tonight can't be comfortable," Madam told me. "Tomorrow can't be fun either, though you should have plenty of opportunities to redeem yourself."

She tossed four shackles, each attached to a long chain to me, and I hurriedly fastened one each to my wrists and ankles, eager to please. She attached the other ends of the chains to an x-shaped frame, and then hoisted it up so I was swaying nearly four feet up in the air.

"Dmitri will be having new business partners over for lunch. You'll need to shovel, bring on firewood, and begin building a snow table in the courtyard for our enjoyment of you," Madam told me. "You are quite lovely, shivering and covered in goosebumps, with your cunt red from flogging and wax dripped all over your tits. This year I want to try figging you as well, maybe even brush some capsaicin oil over your nipples. And I do so enjoy packing your cunt with snow until nothing more can fit- though that kind of attention is one you haven't yet earned."

As she spoke, she wheeled the fucking machine into position, guiding the head of the long dildo into my pussy. Further chains were attached to it so it would not slip out. I whimpered, already praying that Madam would deem me worthy to be fucked by her hand in the snow, so I wouldn't have to endure another night such as this.

"For now though," she continued, wheeling another fucking machine forwards. This one, however, pushed my face down onto the dildo stick straight up from the bottom, rather than forcing a dildo into me. She turned it on, watching with satisfaction as I gagged for a few minutes before sinking into the rhythm. "This machine is on a timer. It will shut off after two hours. And this machine..." She hit another button, and suddenly my pussy was being pounded. "Hmm... not enough."

She shut it off, and rummaged around for more equipment. She came back with three small vices, which she clamped tightly to my nipples and clit, a y-shaped chain that just barely attached to all of them, several weights which she hooked to that chain, causing me to scream and gag around the dildo in my mouth again. "Oh? You want more?" She asked. I didn't, and for that she went and got more anyway. There was a hitachi vibrator on a stick, which she fit snugly against the clamp on my clit and the place where the dildo entered my body. She also had an anal hook, which she worked into my ass without much resistance. She attached another chain to the end of it, threw it over the x-frame, and fastened it tightly to the top of the machine which was still fucking my face. It made me arch my back, jostling the weights painfully, and when she turned the machine in my pussy back on, they moved even more.

"This machine will stay on for six hours," Madam told me, once I finally managed to stop gagging again. "I will return in nine to let you down. As for what you will wear..."

She left for a moment: I could hear her looking for things again. She returned after a moment, holding up each item long enough to see with my bobbing head: the fat glass dildo nearly as thick as her fist, the anal hook which had a large number of anal beads on one end and a pole ending in a collar on the other, the metal locking chastity belt that covers every inch of my groin but my clit, a pure white corset, nipple rings that would force them into points. In concession to the Ukrainians winter, cold even this close to the sea, there is also: nylon stockings, boots, tight jeans, red sleeve-length gloves, a white scarf, and a long puffy red coat.

"You will still be required to cook us breakfast, but you are not allowed into the shower," Madam finished. "Oh, and Qedesha? You are only allowed one orgasm more tonight." She switched on the hitachi, and I braced myself, determined to hold onto that orgasm through the night, to only let it go when she came to let me down. It would mean next to no sleep, but it would be worth it if it made her take pity on me. "Goodnight, you hopeless whore. Maybe tomorrow you will do better."