It is time for another bout with “Master Dice”. As usual, I start by packing my bag of tricks and treats, while still naked in the morning. “Master Dice” seems to be in a rather good mood and orders me to bring lube, two pairs of hinged metal police cuffs with keys, the bottle brush (120×60 mm blue polyester bristles) for my vagina, the bardex plug (100+50×178 mm inflatable silicon) for my anal, chain (2 m, 8 mm twist steel) for the crotch tie, electrical tape (19 mm black vinyl) for tying my breasts up tight around their bases, and one pair of mouse traps for nipples, all in all an actually pretty nice and arousing ensemble.
“Master Dice” also is rather moderate in “his” requests for my styling today, ordering red nylon panties, which may also become mouth stuffing on my way home, black as clothing color, and a hairdo with high ponytail. I add a black bra, a loose, warm sweater, a pleated skirt, black stockings, knee-high, black leather boots with 8 cm heels, and a black, short raincoat, since the weather forecast is for rather cool and rainy weather most of the day.
After work, I perform my usual routine and retreat to the storage room in the basement, strip naked, just leaving my boots and stockings on, and then follow the orders from “Master Dice” on the additions for the trip home and the evening. The first information, telling me I will add 5 of the 6 items brought, gives me a small rush of anticipation and arousal, since all of the additions actually are pretty hot to me.
The first task was to tie my breasts tight by winding the electrical tape around their bases to make each breast swell and bulge. I do enjoy having my breasts tied tight like that, and with adhesive tape it’s both rather comfortable and really hot. Standing bent over to let my breasts hang and make it easier for the tie to catch as much as possible of them, I started winding the tape around the base of my left breast, keeping it at tense as possible to make that priming turn really tight, setting the pace for the rest of the tie. I kept wrapping, turn after turn, until I had used up several meters of tape to form an about 10 centimeter wide, seamless cuff of glistening black tape, creating a 7-8 cm wide stalk which connected the remaining bulge of the breast to my chest, the swollen and both painfully and arousingly throbbing flesh seemingly just barely contained by the very taut, glistening and purplish skin. Feeling my breast with my hand, the sensation was amazing. My breasts were never this firm, even when I was a teenager, and it was so sensitive, that even that light touch made me moan low from pleasure. I pulled myself together and continued with my other breast, until I after several minutes and meters of tape more had two almost identical purplish orbs on black stalks sticking straight out from my chest. When I straightened and looked down on them, they looked huge, twice their ordinary size or more, but I guessed that was more the very protruding shape than the actual size. I was really both pleased and pleasured, both by the appearance and the feeling from them, and needed to control myself not to start to examine them too thoroughly.
The next order from “Master Dice”, adding the mousetraps on my nipples, turned out to be a real problem. The skin on my areolas was so tight that it was impossible to get much enough of a bud to clamp the trap on, even after quite a bit of rubbing, pinching, pulling and flicking. Finally I managed, by cutting an about 10 cm long, quarter wide strip of the electrical tape, pinching and pulling my nipple hard while wrapping the tape tight around its base, and then adding the trap. It became quite a bit more painful than the usually rather comfortable mousetraps, but it worked at least.
The crotch chain was next, wrapped around my waist and tight between my labia and ass cheeks. I was so hot and wet already from the amazing breast tie, that the chain was all slick from my juices when I pulled it tight to press on and rub my clit, inner labia, lower orifices and perineum, the sensation making me even hotter. The bottlebrush for my pussy forced me to unlock and loosen the chain to push the brush deep, its stiff bristles teasing and tormenting my sensitive inner walls in a very arousing way. I waited with replacing the chain until after the next order from “Master Dice”, which was a good thing since it was now time to stuff my anal with the large bardex enema nozzle. Even if I was hot and wet, and the inflatable tip of the nozzle compacted, it still took some lube and effort to push it into my rectum, before inflating it until it stretched my rectum quite uncomfortably but still arousingly, and the inner and outer balloons squeezed my sphincter between them into a tight seal, the remaining part dangling from my anal down between my thighs like some humiliating tail.
When done with the additions, “Master Dice” ordered me to cuff ankles together and hands behind my back, shuffling around for 5 minutes while teasing whatever erogenous areas I could reach. The ankle cuffs became my next problem, since there was no way to fit the hinged police cuffs around my ankles with my boots on. I hesitated about whether to remove my boots or to use the belt from my raincoat as a makeshift hobble, and the very dirty floor made me chose the second option. Normally, this part felt pretty silly to start with, but today I was so hot that I welcomed the chance to fool around some, especially with my breasts. I almost dislocated my shoulders trying to reach high enough to grope and fondle my very swollen, aching and sensitive orbs, and the resulting sensations came very close to pushing me over the edge to an orgasm, but that was not permitted by “Master Dice” at this stage. It was probably kind of lucky I just had 5 minutes to play, or things might have gone awry.
When “Master Dice” was about to decide on my appearance on the way home, I was torn. I was so hot and slutty that I hoped for just the raincoat covering my body and toys, but a somewhat more sane part of me realized a number of problems with that, like if it would be possible to close the raincoat over my now huge and very firm breasts at all, or how noticeable the shaft from the brush in my pussy and the dangling parts from the enema nozzle in my ass would be sticking out from under the short coat. Fortunately, “Master Dice” solved it for me by ordering me going home dressed without just my panties. My skirt was long enough to hide my new, lower appendages, but even under the loose sweater, my renewed upper appendages bulged out in a way that would no doubt attract attention. And I had been right about closing my coat over them. It actually was possible, but it bulged even more noticeable than under just the sweater, and it cost a pretty painful compression of my already aching breasts, so I left the raincoat undone. Just to get a real good chance to show off the “new” me, “Master Dice” decided I was to go home on foot through the at this time usually crowded city center.
The walk home was heaven and hell. The brush in my pussy kept shifting with every step, teasing my increasingly soar and sensitive vagina both painfully and arousingly, while the tight and slick chain kept rubbing most other sensitive areas down there. The sensations from my over-stretched rectum weren’t really stimulating, but they kept me aware of my humiliation, just as the brush handle and nozzle tubes brushing my erogenous inner thighs. The throbbing sensation in my swollen breasts were both painful and arousing, but the gentle rubbing from my loose sweater over the taut and sensitive skin on them, accentuated by its painful but nonetheless arousing tweaking of my trapped nipples, was so hot and stimulating that it kept me on the brink of cumming, forcing me to stop and just breathe every few minutes not to make a mess among all the people around me.
The last stretch home, on almost empty streets, trying to hurry up, I tipped over and cummed a number of times, the sensations so unbearably intense that I groped my breasts hard through the sweater, painfully squeezing them as hard as I could and digging my fingers and nails painfully into the swollen, taut, aching and very sensitive flesh, desperately needing the sharp pain to counter the unbearable pleasure surging through my body. When I finally got home, I was dizzy, panting and sweating, really, really wishing for “Master Dice” to give me a real brutal session. I tore my clothes of, dropping them on the floor and almost run to the playroom, still in my high heel boots and stockings.
I pretty much got what I wanted, even if I could have taken even more in the state I was in. First was the gag, the by now familiar ring gag forcing my jaws achingly wide open, and the tongue clamp which I forced my tongue through further than usual, both making it crush my tongue more painfully than usual and made it ache from the forced stretch. Next was 5 wooden clothespins on each outer labia, each with a 100 g weight attached, pinching and stretching my labia hard, but I wished those weights had been heavier, making the painful but still arousing stretch even harder. That was it in terms of additions, and I felt a bit disappointed that “Master Dice” hadn’t taken the change to add more torment to my nipples, urethra and neck.
I welcomed “his” choice of the hard and uncomfortable zipties for my final tie though, and the length of 2 hours was also OK. The real buzzer was the 3.0 l enema I was to receive and retain through the bardex nozzle while tied up though. Shit! Literally shit, that was an ordeal that made me cringe some even in my over-excited state. But I went on to arrange the ice timer with a pair of cutters for the zipties added to the keys, filled up the 1 gallon (3.8 l) enema bag with 3 l of isotonic brine and hung it from the ceiling hook together with the timer.
The final tie was to be kneeling on the spiked hard plastic turf floor mat, with a shoulder harness fashioned from a pair of joined zipties behind my back, under my armpits, up front and crossing my upper chest before being fastened behind my neck, my already tightly taped breasts cuffed tight with leg irons, my calves tied to my thighs in a frogtie, with my knees spread wide and bound to metal eyes at the short ends of the mat, my breasts then stretched hard up by the cuffs to a chain from the ceiling hook to force me balancing on the points of my knees, with the sharp hard spikes digging painfully into them, and my hands tied high up my back to the shoulder harness.
I fashioned the shoulder harness, added zipties snuggly around each wrist, booted ankle, thigh just above the knee and below my crotch, and left a few extra to join ankles to thighs, knees to mat and wrists to harness. I needed to climb up again to add the chain for the breast cuffs to the ceiling hook, then sent my usual safety text to my informed friend “Busy until 22:30”, for her to know I needed assistance if she didn’t hear from me before then.
I then finished the tie, frog-tying my legs by joining each ankle tie to its upper thigh tie with an extra ziptie, spreading my knees wide and fastening them using two joined zipties between each lower thigh tie and the mat eyes, then pulling myself up by the chain until I was painfully balancing on the points of my knees, stretching my breasts up as hard as I could by the chain between the cuffs around their bases and padlocking them to the ceiling chain. I then realized the thick, tight tape wrap around the base of each breast served as an efficient padding against the rather sharp jaws of the cuffs, making that part of the tie a lot less painful, yes even rather comfy and pleasurable, than usual. I tried to make a note in my sex-dizzy mind to explore that discovery further at some later occasion.
I then went on to the final humiliation and torment, attaching the tube from the enema bag to the tube dangling from the bardex nozzle in my rear. I connected them in front of me so I had the flow gauge dangling just in front of my face and no way to reach and manipulate the tubing even if I would get the urge when my bowels filled up. I slowly opened the valve and saw the gauge move. I tried to focus enough to do some basic math. 1 ml/s should mean 3,600 ml or 3.6 l per hour, so the 3 l in the bag should fill me up in a bit less than one hour, leaving me to “enjoy” the fullness and cramps from it for an hour or so. I felt the brine starting to flood my already stretched rectum and then bowels while I fumbled with the last ziptie to join my wrists and fasten them to the shoulder harness.
I more or less hung from my breasts when done, breathing fast and taking in the sensations from my body. It almost felt strange to be able to actually enjoy almost everything “Master Dice” had thrown at me. The only pain that wasn’t arousing was from the sharp spikes digging into my knees, while my clamped tongue and nipples were hurting, but with a sensation that was about as hot as painful. The remaining “discomforts”, i.e. the tight breast tie and stretching of my breast, the brush in my pussy, the huge, inflated bulb stretching my rectum and the brine slowly filling my bowels, the clamps stretching my labia and the ring gag forcing my mouth wide open, were really mostly exciting in my present state.
I slowly started to buck my hips, enjoying the sensation of the slick chain rubbing me intimately, driving my arousal even further, the movement also causing a rhythmic stretching of my tightly tied, swollen, throbbing and sensitive breasts, as well as making the nipple and labia clamps perform a slow, painful but nonetheless arousing dance on those sensitive parts. My bucking soon got wilder, building me higher and faster, and it wasn’t very long before an intensive orgasm made my entire body spasm, twist and shake. I slumped panting and shivering, realizing that I could actually for once afford the luxury of slumping. Before, the sharp pain from the cuffs cutting into the sensitive undersides of my breasts had always forced me to straighten and regain balance quickly, but with the thick protective layer of tape around the base of my breasts, the pain was nowhere near as bad as usual.
As I started again, I both bucked and twisted, having discovered a certain charm in the enema tube rubbing my very sensitive breasts, flicking the nipple clamps and making my out-stretched and clamped tongue “lick” it, the latter more humiliating than stimulating though. The filling of my bowels with the high-volume enema began to change from exciting to more and more uncomfortable, as my bowels started to cramp while the volume and pressure built. If my hands had been free, I could have mitigated the discomfort at least some by massaging my belly, probably time-shared with my breasts and pussy, but as things were, I could do absolutely nothing about it.
The more and more painful cramps in my belly weren’t enough to stop the pleasure, but it made it take longer time and more effort to climb, and when I finally reached the next orgasm, the pains were so distracting they almost spoiled the climax. The flow gauge on the enema tube had stopped, telling me the enema bag was empty and I was full, very full. Still, I kept bucking and twisting, rubbing my pussy on the chain and my breasts on the enema tube. Despite the flow had stopped, it felt like the cramps kept getting worse, and the pleasure and arousal were fighting a losing battle against the discomfort and pain. I really, really needed to relieve myself, so very desperately and urgent, immediately, and the pain had taken over so the deliberate bucking was replaced by an involuntary thrashing.
I tried to make the tube swing one way and twist myself the other way, hoping to be able to reach the tube and yank it out of the nozzle, not caring much about the mess 3 liters of poop-mixed water would make in the floor. But even my own body worked against me, my gargantuan, tightly tied and swollen breasts effectively trapping the tube between them and preventing the section of the tube that could come within reach of my fingers to swing out.
In my mind, I started imagining the chance to negotiate a way to get away from the now unbearable cramps in my belly, offering anything even marginally tolerable in exchange for the relief, like a deep, hard anal fuck in my freshly and thoroughly cleansed and rinsed ass, a breast fuck between my swollen, aching and painfully throbbing breasts, a deep-throat blow job, or other tortures to replace the one almost ripping my bowels apart, like a whipping, caning or cattle-prod all over my body, including my sensitive pussy or almost bursting breasts, needles jammed into my breasts, ass cheeks or pussy, or skewers jammed straight through my bulging breasts. But I realized none of that was mine to offer, but anyone could do any of it to me without needing my consent, in the helpless state I was.
Still, the fantasies went on, with my torturer adding all the tortures I suggested but with no relief in return, welting and lacerating my body, especially the taut skin of my bulging and over-sensitive breasts with a wooden paddle, a cruel electrical cable, and a hard and heavy cane, jamming needles deep into my flesh, and then groping and kneading me hard to make them hurt even more, shoving a cattle-prod into my slit, straddling my clit, securing it to the chain, pushing the button down and securing it with tape, making the device fry my clit with intense surges of electricity every few seconds, grabbing the clamp on my tongue and almost ripping it out of my mouth to make room for his cock deep down my throat, fucking my face brutally until he cums down my throat, in my mouth and over my face, then reaching up and yanking my release away, before leaving me in agony, thrashing and spasming from the electricity surging through my clit and the ever-worsening cramps in my bowels.
I returned from the fantasy almost in panic, but at the same time so aroused that my next involuntary thrash made the chain rub hard between my labia and me cum hard, so hard that even the very painful cramps in my belly couldn’t distract much. I again slumped, convulsing and shivering from the overload of sensations. I don’t know for how long I hung there, mainly on my breasts, but again, the cramps in my bowels overtook the sensations, making me wail from pain. And then I felt a painfully hard thump on my back and heard a rattle, as the keys and cutters fell from their ceiling safekeeping. I desperately sought for the cord to them, finding it and hauling the prize home.
I don’t know if I ever managed to free myself that quickly before, cutting the zipties on my wrists and legs in a frenzy, fumbling some with the keys before I got the padlock to my breast cuffs open, thumping down on my booted shins, and then the front padlock to my crotch chain. I almost created a real ugly mess when I felt the enema tube yank on the nozzle, having forgotten to release that “umbilical cord”, but clamped the tube on the nozzle as hard as I could with my fingers while yanking the tube to the bag loose, not caring about any of the other additions bouncing and tearing at my body as I waddled to the bathroom like a penguin on speed, slammed down on the WC, and let go of the tube from my ass.
For a few seconds, I was sure the jet from my ass would propel me off the WC and slam into the ceiling, but of course it didn’t. Much too slow I could feel the over-filling of my bowels decrease though, the cramps decreasing with it, until the jet had reduced to more of a trickle. With trembling fingers, I found the valves to the bulbs and released them, feeling and hearing the huge bulb inside me deflate and the pinch on my sphincter fading. With some effort, I eventually managed to pull the damn device out of me, in a gush of liquid, no doubt very dirty and smelly, but I couldn’t see it, just feel it showering my fingers. I didn’t even look at it but just dumped the nozzle in the sink next to the WC, rinsing my fingers under the tap while I felt remains of my rear flooding trickle out of me. I tried to help it along by pushing as hard as I could, despite the effort made my over-stretched muscles down there really hurt, and was rewarded by small gushes of liquid splashing down into the WC.
I felt like a wrung rag, too shaky to even try to get up from the WC. So I started freeing myself from the remaining additions while remaining seated. First the remains of the crotch chain, blissfully with the required key the same as the one already in the unlocked padlock still attached front, and then the clamps on my labia, each producing a small squeal from pain as full circulation returned to the delicate tissue, long crushed and stretched, followed by the painful exorcism of the brush in my vagina, its stiff bristles seeming to have grown into the sensitive and very soar inner walls. At least now I could wipe myself, which I did, realizing how sore my entire crotch area was from the long chafing, masquerading as pleasurable rubbing, from the chain.
My tongue was the worst, making me squeal like a pig at the butcher when it was relieved from the hard clamp, both returning full circulation and relaxing the long and hard stretched muscles in it. I unbuckled and removed the ring gag too, my jaws still locked in an almost cramped wide-open position, requiring quite a bit of manual help and softening before I could close and move them again. My nipples were next, probably really as painful as the clamp on my tongue, but a bit more hardened, so I just sat biting down hard for a few seconds after each painful release from the clamps, followed by a second wave of pain as the buds withdrew into the swollen areola, almost flaying themselves as the tape around them peeled off, feeling like taking much of the skin with them.
I actually hesitated about the breasts, because despite they were really hurting now, so swollen, purple, throbbing painfully, and so sensitive that even a soft touch felt almost like a cattle prod being jammed into them, I really liked both the effect and the sensations. If someone I trusted had offered to cuff my hand behind my back, clip a leash to the chain connecting the cuffs on my breasts, lead me around by it and stop every now and then to play with my orbs, I would have had a very hard time saying no. That wasn’t going to happen though, but I still left them tied while I cleansed the toys and then returned them to my toy chest, cleaned up the mess in the playroom, including needing to rinse the mat under the shower and wipe the floor from some smelly leakage that probably my orgasms had managed to squeeze past the giant stopper in my rectum. Not until after that, I reluctantly unlocked the cuffs over the tape wrapping my breasts and started unwinding the tape.
Oh… Fuck… It… Hurt…!!! The electrical tape was obviously pretty good quality, because despite my breasts were soaked with sweat, the adhesive was still clinging on for dear life. Despite trying to press down the skin with my fingers while pulling off the tape, it felt like I was flaying my breasts, strip by strip as I slowly unwound the tape. I know people say one should yank it off quickly, but there was no way in hell to do that, since there were several meters and several tens of turns of tape on each hurting and sensitive appendage, and I had excelled in making it so tight that trying to cut it with a pair of scissors or something was not an option, unless I really wanted my breasts badly cut and bleeding. However, eventually I had managed to free them both and sat just breathing and trembling in a cold sweat and feeling a bit dizzy.
After recovering for a while, I stripped my boots and stockings, got up and started looking for my cell phone, not to again forget or neglect sending the all clear text to my friend. I found it where it should be but where I wasn’t sharp enough to start looking, on the table in the playroom, and sent “Free now” with almost 10 minutes remaining to deadline. I wrapped up the sticky and sweaty mess of tape on the floor, took a quick shower and wrapped myself in my robe, before lying down on my bed with my laptop to finish this report. I actually dozed off once but woke up from my laptop trying to smash my still very sensitive breast when falling from my hands. I have to admit though, I miss that wonderful, tight tape tie and still feel a small tingle just thinking about it. A small fantasy just started bouncing around in my head about gift-wrapping them like that for a Christmas gift, but with red electrical tape and written on each with a red permanent marker “PLEASE USE HARD!”.