Biggest Ris of My Life

I didn't really want to "leave you dangling" ... unlike Christina... but life intervened. A reality check, some might call it. Now I'm back and ready to rock and roll.

As a reminder... Christina was standing naked beneath her bedroom door frame, wrists secured to hooks imbedded in the top door jam. I had been playing with her breasts and nipples and was just about to do "indescribable things" to her body with a flogger.

It was to be as a result of her lying to me about when her husband was due to return.

LS

...

I took the opportunity to remove my medical gloves. As long as I only touched my items and not any solid surfaces, I would be safe. But the need to actually feel her body, to run my hands over her, to feel inside her, just could not be diluted by a latex rubber membrane.

Communication between the two (or more) parties involved in these play games is vital. Unfortunately, a major communication medium, sight, was removed. Meaning I would have to cater to other senses to achieve the anticipation and arousal desired. Touch, smell, taste and hearing all played a big role when stimulating the senses in addition to sight.

When one of more sense is removed, the subject's mind goes crazy attempting to fill in the gaps. It often does this by trying to accentuate the remaining senses, to fill the gaps. Naturally, a good Dom knows all this and can then play the subject like a fish on a line. Wonderful stuff.

Memories also work in a similar fashion. Do you ever suddenly catch a smell... and immediately your mind is flung back to when you were 15, or 18 or whatever. You and Mary Winter were in a cupboard together at school and the smell of chalk dust was strong in your head as you fumbled your hand beneath her summer dress. Forever after, whenever you smelt chalk dust, that memory would come storming back.

I wanted the same for Christina. Because she was unable to see, I raised the handle of the flogger to her nose, telling her to "Breathe this in, little slut. Remember it well for the future."

The smell of leather would now flood her sense of smell. To further reinforce it, I slowly moved the handle along, moving now on to the leather strands of the flogger. Probably still infused with a smell of both leather and the sweat of bodies it had been used on.

Yes, it was always wiped down or washed after each "outing" but the smell still seems to linger. The smell now needed to be associated with its own stimulation so that the memory will become one of... fear or pain... or of exquisite pleasure or embarrassment or whatever it has aroused in the subject. This is why a degree of consistency is required for all future meetings. Certain memories will always be associated with certain feelings of... whatever.

With many of my fun threesomes, I only had to arouse certain memories by either my voice or presentation of certain visual stimuli or certain touches or smells... and the subject would spend the next 10/20 minutes working themselves into a frenzy of memories. I hadn't actually done anything to them and they would be on the fringe of orgasm. Just perfect.

"Again, little slut. Slow... but deep breaths," I instructed. "Good girl, slut."

"Now, open your mouth, stick your tongue out... and lick and suck," as I allowed a single strand of leather to be drawn into her mouth. The taste of leather is memorable also.

"You look beautiful doing that, my sexy slut," I continued to complement.

"Now slut, feel this on your body." I let the multiple strands of the flogger gently fall on to her breasts and moved them around so she could feel their texture on her skin. Touch also has its own memories.

I now almost whispered in her ear. "It is time to feel the kiss of the leather on your body, little slut." Hearing this, she actually began trembling again.

"Don't hurt me. Please. You promised. Don't," she pleaded in a quiet voice. She didn't yet know what to expect.

I had already decided not to push her pain tolerance too far. So, rather than actually whip or flog her, I whirled it a bit like a propeller. She reacted to the sound of it, even before feeling anything.

"Here it comes, little slut. Just for you."

I ran the flogger propeller like, down her side. I knew exactly what she was feeling, having tested in on myself many times over the years. Just to remind me what I was inflicting, you degenerates, not because it got me off! LOL. I'm not into self-flagellation.

I knew it stung. It was supposed to. I went down one side, across her sexy stomach, then up her other side. Christina had flinched at first until she realised that, although it stung, she could endure it ok. As long as I kept moving the point of strike she could control herself.

This realisation is important for the subject because in their heads, they were winning. They weren't beaten: they could hold out until... well, whenever. That hadn't been tested yet.

I moved the strike points on to the top, then side of her breast. Then... yes, her nipple. That was much more sensitive, I knew but she had to face it.

"Arrraaghh. It hurts. Stop please. Arrraagh."

I moved the focus over to her next breast with the same format. Top, side, nipple. Same result and same squeals from Christina. I looked at the first nipple I had "abused" and damned if it didn't seem to be even more swollen and erect than ever before.

I quickly switched straight back to the first one, just the nipple stimulation. Now the second seemed to be swollen and proudly erect. Both were much redder than they had been earlier. I repeated at least two more times, just on the nipples.

Christina was sobbing again. I knew she would be feeling a fiery heat over her whole upper front body now, with a particular furnace focused on both nipples. Perfect.

This type of flogging was a favourite of many of the ladies I had worked on. Except I performed on their whole body. Front and back, legs and trunk. The breasts and pubic area were always the last and by the time I finished their whole body felt as if they had been heavily sunburnt. You know the feeling you get, laying between cool sheets after a day spent at the beach where you overindulged in the sun. Well, that's why I always bring sun burn lotion to my sessions. They often need the same type of relief.

Christina had performed well for her first introduction, I thought. Then I remembered her father and the regular hairbrush spankings and laughed. Perhaps not the first, I realised.

"Well done, little slut. You made me proud of you." I complemented her further.

"Oh, one last thing for those wonderful nipples of yours..."

I reached over and grasped each nipple with the tips of my fingers, pinching them, rolling them and finally pulling/stretching them out. Damn, they couldn't get any harder, I thought.

Then, while she was still making noises and moaning and complaining, I picked up a spring loaded cloths-peg and released it on her right nipple. The screech that sounded from her lips was a bit uncalled for, I thought. I purposely hadn't used the normal steel jawed, serrated, nipple clamps that I often used. Thinking that I would need to "work into those" over at least 24 hours.

Before she could begin thrashing her body around, I slipped the second peg on to her left nipple.

"What are they? They hurt. Take them off, you prick. They hurt," she pleaded.

"Slut, I thought we were making so much progress," I exclaimed. "I'll just have to take your mind of things for a while."

I bent down and examined her cunt lips. I pushed my two forefingers onto them. The wetness was far greater than earlier.

"Methinks you doth protest too much," I misquoted at her. But she didn't seem to be paying me much attention. I inserted my large middle finger up into her cunt. It went easily into the molten moisture channel. I withdrew it and inserted both my middle and index fingers, twisted them around so my palm was uppermost and tried searching for her G spot. I didn't search for long: there was much more to explore. With some people it takes a lot of practice to find the exact spot so I resolved to try again later. Try, try again... until I got it right, I grinned at my thought. The things I do to help people. LOL.

Once again I reached down and picked up two round balls, joined by what seemed to be string but I knew was actually a type of electrical wire. They looked like Ben-Wah balls but if those balls were the dildo equivalent, these ones were the vibrator equivalent as they actually vibrated if I pressed a button on the remote control. Who thinks up these fiendish things? LOL.

I moved the balls up to her cunt entrance. For the first time realising they were actually quite large.

"What's that? What are you doing now? Are you trying to push something inside me? No way. No."

"Slut. Keep quiet," I ordered. "You will have to trust me and realise that all I do is for your eventual pleasure. This is just part of that pleasure."

"But I don't know you. You are raping me, dammit!"

Oops. I suppose she did have a point there. But not one I could give in to.

I pushed harder. One hand holding her butt, the other pushing a ball up directly inside her cunt entrance. Her oh so wet cunt surrendered and I pushed up as far as I could. The second went in a lot more easily.

"Listen to me, slut. That wet cunt of yours couldn't get any wetter if you tried. Those balls better not fall out... or I really will punish you. Most severally."

Circumstances were to later prove me wrong on that statement but, hey, I'm allowed to make mistakes.

"Now slut, talk to me. Tell me... how do the nipple clamps feel on those slutty nipples of yours?" There was no need to tell her at this stage that the clamps were only cloths pegs.

I needed to get inside her head a lot more if I was going to be successful with her.

"They hurt. Please take them off. They will mark me," she tried to convince me.

"No slut, they won't leave any marks. Well, nothing permanent or long lasting," I explained. "Tell me the truth... are they as bad as when I first put them on? Don't lie to me."

"Umm Ok. No, they aren't as bad now," she admitted. "But they hurt."

"You can manage that hurt, slut. I know you can keep control. Do it for me. I have faith in you," I continued with the compliments. "Plus, I know your body loves them. It craves it, doesn't it slut? You love it."

"No, I don't," she tried to say. "Yes, you do," I reinforced. "Not mentally... but your physical body wants it. The floggings, the clamps. It loves it. I have never experienced such arousal. Your hot cunt is drooling wetness it loves it so much," I paused briefly. "I think you deserve an extra reward because I'm so proud of you, slut."

With that, I pressed the on button for the remote and the vibrating balls started up.

Christina shook her body all around as the effects of the vibrations had a major boost for her arousal.

"Stop it. Stop it. Oh oh ohhhhh. What's happening to me? Aaarrrghh."

It had been buzzing now for about 60 seconds and she had writhed around constantly. Grunts and moans were coming regularly from her mouth and I thought it was time for her real reward.

Before I began anything else I snapped off a few more photos and a short video of her "enjoying" the vibrations.

The vibrating balls don't actually touch her clitoris at all. The sensations flow through her membrane walls but normally not enough for a woman to reach orgasm. Perhaps if they directly stimulated her G spot something might happen. But in most cases, what starts out as a fun, stimulating exercise evolves into what some call torture as arousal is maintained but no climax occurs. That requires some addition stimulus.

I decided to supply it, as her reward.

Reaching over, my fingers grasped her clitoral hood and pushed it back. I leaned forward... I could actually hear the buzzing from the balls inside her... and allowed my lips to settle over her large clit and licked and sucked it simultaneously.

The screech that occurred was only bettered by the burst of liquid from her cunt as she "female ejaculated" her juice over the bottom of my face and down my black top. It splashed everywhere, while she continued screaming entreaties to god and calling me names.

A squirter. Who'd have thought? Certainly not me.

Christina must have reached sensory overload as it appeared she had fainted. Before I cleaned myself and her up, I unhooked her arms from the door frame and carried her over to the bed. To be on the safe side, I had to click the two cuffs together behind her back. Uncomfortable to lay on the bed like that I know but, sadly necessary.

I took my electrical drill and drilled two more holes in the headboard where it meets the mattress. Wide enough so she could comfortably spread her arms above her head, allowing me to cuff them for my better safety and her better comfort. This way she could also sleep and I wouldn't have to watch her constantly.

Before I let her rest, I did remember to turn the vibrating balls off and extract them. They had provided good practice for other little toys I had for her further pleasure. I also removed the two pegs from her nipples. They were looking red with all the attention they had received but stood up proudly erect, like two Shawshank escapees that never wanted to return to the confines of her padded bras.

With a damp cloth, I wiped away the sticky juices from around her cunt lips and the tops of her thighs. She had really soaked herself.

Damn, she looked beautiful naked. Why did she ever wear clothes when around the apartment? Why had I never had the privilege of seeing this beauty naked?

I looked more closely at her full naked body stretched out on the bed. The firm breasts hadn't settled too much on to her chest. They still had the firmness of youth, topped by the proud nipples.

From the ribs of her chest her stomach settled down in a concave fashion, down to where her hip bones became prominent either side. Between the two, at the base of her stomach, began her pubic mound. I gazed in wonder at the large, prominent mound as it sored majestically.

Completely enchanted, I grabbed a large pillow from the top of the bed and stuffed it directly underneath her butt. This elevated her whole lower torso. I knelt at the side of the bed and gazed at the side view of her lower body. The higher elevation just made her pubic bone and mound stand out even more. I was in awe.

It also put a different angle on the noticeable protuberance of her clitoral hood, as it stood out dividing the fleshy outer lips of her vagina. Like the summit of the Eiger piercing the clouds, I suddenly thought. No, it wasn't a vagina: that was definitely a cunt now. Engorged, swollen with arousal and still glistening with moisture even though I had given it a wipe just moments before.

The swollen, fleshy outer lips made her cunt look a bit like a peach that had been cleaved in two, the fruit bursting out from within. Damn, I thought to myself: I'm turning into a poet and didn't know it!

But normal words just couldn't convey what was laying before me. I felt I lacked the skill to adequately describe the beauty of the woman who was my wife.

The two, slim dancers legs were stretched out. These were the legs of a ballerina, not those of some more solid, contemporary dancer. I could now more clearly see that there was a gap at the top of her thighs where they reached her torso.

Damn. Did this mean I have a few fetishes? I loved seeing small, B sized breasts with large nipples. I definitely dislike large, cow like udders of breasts. I loved slim women with long, slim legs. I simply adored prominent pubic mounds that also had fleshy, meaty lips. The clit didn't have to be large: just large enough for me to enjoy it to play with. If it was larger than normal, that was simply the icing on the cake. LOL.

At what stage did a person's preferences turn into a fetish? I had never been able to understand the fetish for feet. Nor body hair on women. Or even men, I chuckled, thinking of a gay friend of mine who went nuts over the "bear" type men. None of that interested me. Oh well, who cares. I liked what I liked.

Most of all, in spite of what my "fetish" list might suggest, I enjoyed a woman's eyes in an attractive face. Gateways to the soul and all that stuff. Certainly, directly to my heart, it seemed. Particularly if they were paired with an irresistible smile.

Christina had beautiful brown eyes that I adored. Gentle, loving eyes. How would she look at me when she discovers what I have done to her? I wondered, bring myself back to reality.

Too much to think about, I decided. I'll give her 30 minutes to rest before I continue her education. Ok, well, her rape, I finally admitted. I may as well make the most of the situation. It probably will never be repeated.

To record this wonderful view for posterity, I snapped more photos and video of her stretched out, making sure I got all the close ups of my fetish points. You sick bastard, I grinned.

...

I took the time to reassess what I wanted to do and emptied out my bags of goodies in the bedroom.

Her physical reactions had already amazed me and I needed to make the most of them. I finally appreciated how much her parents and religious upbringing had warped her mind and restricted her emotional and sexual development. It wasn't her fault. She just didn't know differently. I would need to work on her from that perspective.

The home schooling and no television had meant she was isolated from real life. Then her brainwashing by her parents, particularly her father with his tailored religious beliefs, made her think a woman was a second class citizen. One who must follow and obey her father, then her husband, in all things. She would be punished if she faltered.

That her body was to be hidden from sight, least it arouse lust in some male. It must be covered up at all times, even from her husband. To not do so meant she was a temptress; a whore. Not that I had anything against whores. They did what they did, for whatever reasons. I didn't think less of them.

Who had been taught that sex of any sort, was wrong unless it was to get pregnant. She was not to enjoy it. Or she would be evil. A whore. Only whores enjoyed sex. Hell, I grinned, that means I must have had encounters with many, many whores over the last 5 years. The only difference was that they didn't charge for their passionate liaisons.

So, first up I would need to let her feel for herself the physical pleasures her body can give her. Like earlier. I'm positive she had never had an orgasm before. She wouldn't even know that squirting was something only a very small percentage of women experienced.

"Forcing" her to do things would, in her own mind, relinquish responsibility for her actions. She would not be doing things by choice. She would simply be obeying a male, who was "making" her do things. It wouldn't be her fault.

Yes, convoluted psycho crap but the effects of 22 years of brainwashing can't be changed in one night. Little steps, remember.

I mentally revised what I planned to do with my lovely wife, in light of what she had demonstrated. One of the things, as well as numerous "toy plays" would be for me to actually fuck her the way I had always wanted. Except this time I would make sure she involved herself completely.

I grinned as I looked at her form as she lay stretched out on the bed. I think she was awake now and keeping quiet while she played "possum". There was going to be an enjoyable night ahead. I had allowed a good recovery time to have some sleep later, giving my poor body time to recover. Then finally a full day of fun to finish up before her loving husband made his reappearance.

With this in mind, I swallowed a little blue pill. I'd need all the help I could get, I decided.