Another Thursday and another (hopefully) raunchy after work session.
Today, “Master Dice” orders me to bring alligator clamps for my nipples (fuck, I really, really, REALLY hate and fear those evil things, but it’s one of those options I’ve added for the psychological impact of knowing there are options that are more than what I can handle well), 2 pairs of cable ties to tie the base of my breasts with (yummy!), the large anal dilator (178×60 mm black TPE), the uncomfortable, hard plastic dildo (152×40 mm) for my pussy, and a black leather crotch harness.
“Master Dice” also decides I will wear a pair of red polyester panties, potentially juicing them up to be used as a gag stuffing later, a short skirt (short meaning the kind where one false move will show everyone my panties, and intended to make me feel embarrassed and slutty), high heel pumps (stressing HIGH) and my hair in a humiliating girlish hairdo with “cute” bunches on the sides.
The day at work passed by, with a few colleagues making somewhat quizzical glances at my appearance, but without any comments, and now by the end of the day I’m tingling both from the embarrassment and from the thought of what might be ahead. The devilish, sharp, jagged and very painful alligator nipple clamps invokes some fear as well, adding to my turmoil of emotions. I feel relief when the clock is finally late enough for me to sneak off to the storage room to prepare for going home.
My heart sinks when “Master Dice” tells me I will be wearing 5 from the 6 “decorations” on my way home, reducing my chance of avoiding the cruel alligator clamps. But after first tying up my breasts real tight with the double cable ties around their bases, a few cm apart, to make sure I will really feel them swelling, bulging, throbbing and aching on my way home and later, arousal starts overtaking the fear. I still feel relief and a growing hope for every round where the dreaded nipple torture doesn’t show though: the crotch harness which I pull so tight the pussy strap sinks in out of sight between my labia, despite knowing I will need to redo it to fit at least one plug in my lower orifices, immediately confirmed by the hard plastic dildo in my pussy next, then the soiled polyester panties I have worn during the day stuffed in my mouth, and then the final relief and bliss when the nipple clamps are outcompeted by the anal dilator as the last “decoration”.
“Master Dice” tells me to walk home dressed as is without just the panties, through the crowded city center. The “generous” dressing means I will not wear a coat, and I know the heels, short skirt and my boobs bulging under my shirt will draw some attention, and I have very small margins with the skirt not to show both pink and the base of the large dilator in my rectum. This will be one very nervous and embarrassing stroll.
I got home without any other complications than wild fantasies about public humiliation, an extreme arousal and a face that feels very hot and flushed. Quickly I stripped naked and turned to “Master Dice” for more orders. First, the panties in my mouth were replaced by a ring gag strapped tight and locked at the back of my neck, forcing my mouth wide open, and with the addition of a wooden tongue clamp, both moderately painful and arousing, but above all humiliating as it started me slobbering all over myself. Then I arranged an ice timer for 2.5 hours before adding 5 wooden clothespins on each outer labia, each with a 100 g weight attached. Call me strange, but to me the pinch and tug from the at least initially rather nice clamps are a lot more stimulating and arousing than painful. The final addition was pure pleasure as I was ordered to fasten a vibrating egg on low intensity to my clit, taping it to the inside of the crotch strap and pulling the strap tight again so the egg pressed real hard into my swollen and happy little nub.
Before the final arrangements, I send a safety text to an “informed” friend with a key to my apartment: “Busy until 22:00”, so she’ll know if she hasn’t heard from me by then, I need assistance. A few times when I’ve texted her on Saturdays, an image of her showing up intoxicated, straight from a party, with a whole band of likewise drunk and assisting party guests deciding I must be a surprise party favor, has popped up in my mind. Damn, such a mishap might even turn out interesting.
The final instruction is to remove my heels and position myself barefoot standing on the black, spiked, hard, plastic turf floor mat, with a shoulder harness from a leather strap, breasts cuffed tight with leg irons, ankles locked in leather cuffs, spread wide and bound to metal eyes at short ends of mat, my breasts stretched hard up to a chain from the ceiling hook forcing me to the balls of my feet, making the hard mat spikes dig uncomfortably into the soles of my feet, and finally my wrists padlocked in leather cuffs and attached to the shoulder harness high up behind my back. The timer is set to drop the keys on a cord that leaves the cord dangling within reach of my fingers so I can fish up the keys. As an extra bonus, “Master Dice” permits me two orgasms after I have managed to free all of me.
I managed to fit the ankle iron cuffs just inside the inner ziptie on each breast, tightening it even harder than the ziptie, so I could adjust the zipties away from my chest, tightening them even more to make the already swollen and aching breasts swell and ache even more, darkening them to yet another nuance of purple, their tips, with almost invisible nipples under the taut, gleaming skin, pointing towards the ceiling from the tight cuffs hoisting them hard. I spent most of my time tied up rocking and bucking my hips, making the intruders shift in my lower orifices, the vibrating egg rub my clit, the weighted clamps pull and gyrate in my labia, and the cuffs around the base of my breasts stretch and torment the swollen orbs.
I managed two orgasms while tied up, both building slowly, not very intense but in long, surging waves that milked and drained me so completely that it took time for me to become aware that I was actually painfully suspended from my tormented breasts and struggle up to stand balancing again. When the keys eventually dropped, I was so weak and clumsy it took me quite some time to release myself, and the two orgasms afterwards I had been granted felt both unnecessary and disappointing compared to my slow rapture while still tied up. Afterwards, I took a shower rather than a bath, already so soothed, both body and soul, that I didn’t need any warm water, foam and aromatic oils to help me with that. I’m off to bed as soon as I’ve finished this, and I’m sure I will sleep like a baby tonight.