Synopsis: My new girlfriend tortures me unmercifully. Codes = F/m, torture, non-consensual.
Copyright © Ted Underfoot
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:
171 Second Street, Suite 300
San Francisco, California 94105
I met a woman named Karen through a BDSM forum. I don’t want to pay a woman to dominate me. I would rather have mutual fun and hopefully a lasting relationship. She sent me a private message about one of the topics I had commented on and that started up a friendly relationship which led to private IMs and then to a couple of phone calls before agreeing to meet each other face-to-face. It is refreshing to be completely open with her and she makes me feel interesting and wanted.
Karen is new to BDSM and a few years older than my 33 years but reasonable looking. She says that as a dominant she is willing to try just about anything and from our conversation she seems quite eager to learn. I’m a patient man and I figured that I would enjoy helping her find what she enjoys most out of BDSM. I’m no veteran to BDSM myself but I have had enough experience to understand my limits while still being very curious about most of the activities I haven’t tried.
Three weeks after we first met online we agreed to meet at a restaurant for dinner on a Friday night and then go to her house. I was a bit surprised that she was willing to invite me to her house for our first date but she already knows a lot about me and we seem to be a great fit. I didn’t have much expectations of BDSM on our first date but I figured we might try a bit, just to get her comfortable with it.
Karen chose a very nice restaurant and I didn’t want to point out that my cash situation wasn’t so great for that because I didn’t want to disappoint her. She already knew that my job is not well-paying and I live in a small apartment.
Meeting her at the restaurant I continued to have a great feeling about her, even better than from our wonderful phone and IM conversations. I guess you might call it love at first sight but I wouldn’t go that far and it wasn’t really first sight anyway since we had swapped photos of ourselves. She was so pleasant to talk with and seemed very interested in me that I was very happy to be meeting her. She seemed happy, too.
When the waiter brought the check she took it and insisted on paying. She explained that she can afford it and it’s only fair because she chose such an expensive restaurant. I protested a bit but ended up accepting and appreciating her gracious gesture.
After dinner we drove to her house in our separate cars and when we arrived I was astounded at the size of the house. Her house is in an exclusive neighborhood and must be very expensive, even though she lives alone. At first I felt intimidated but she made me feel comfortable by being her sweet and charming self as she gave me a quick tour of a few of the rooms.
We sat in her spacious living room and talked, mostly about BDSM. She seemed fascinated by it and willing to explore just about everything. She said that she wanted to have a sort of session tonight so we agreed that she would tie me to the bed and whip my upper back a bit with my belt. We agreed on a safe word although I didn’t think we would come close to needing it based upon her description of a very short session. I knew that I would have a great time just being tied up and I looked forward to it.
With my shirt off and with my ankles and wrists tied I was face down on the bed. Karen put a blindfold on me which was something we hadn’t discussed tonight and I felt good that she was taking the initiative. She then wrapped straps behind the back and on top of my head and pushed a ball gag into my mouth. We hadn’t discussed this either and I wondered why should would have a ball gag harness lying around but I just gave in to the sensation of being controlled and about to be whipped. The gag had small holes in it so I could breathe through my mouth if I had to. I wasn’t worried about not being able to safe word due to the gag because I can take quite a bit of whipping and she was new to this and just going to try it out a bit.
Karen didn’t whip me, though. She asked me to try to escape and to try to spit out the ball gag but I couldn’t come close to either, she had done a good job.
Then she said words which gave me a chill down my spine.
“Ted, I’m going to torture you all weekend.”
This was just a date and we never discussed a long session of anything let alone all weekend. Was it ridiculous for me to trust her enough to tie me to the bed? I don’t think so, we had spent weeks getting to know each other on the phone and on IM and there was no hint of problems from what I could see.
Karen sat on the bed next to me and put her hand on my bare back. She said contentedly “It’s great when a plan comes together. Ever since I starting reading about BDSM a month ago I have been fascinated by it. Why on earth would someone want to be tortured and treated like a slave? I don’t think I will ever understand that but the appeal of being dominant jumped out at me. I’m not like the other dominants I’ve been reading about, though, the ideas of limits and safe words don’t seem that interesting.”
The emotional chill down my spine spread to my entire body. No limits and no safe word??! Was my life about to end this weekend?
She continued “I’ve enjoyed meeting you and knowing you. If you enjoy the weekend, then you and I can have a long-term relationship but I gather from what you’ve told me, your pain threshold is not that high so I’m going to give it a 50-50 chance.”
I was trying to talk into the gag but it only came out as grunts.
“I feel you tremble and I can only imagine how terrifying this must be. I want you to know that I am not going to do anything which you and I haven’t talked about. If you remember, though, that leaves me a whole lot of torture to work with because you only listed a few things you wouldn’t be interested in. When you leave here Sunday night you will not be injured or damaged and one thing is for sure, you will have a memorable weekend.”
I whined through the gag but she was just ignoring me.
“Once your nerves calm down, try enjoying the experience. I’m not going to rush you through one torture after another.
“By the way, there’s no chance that you’ll go to the police because I’ve kept all of our IMs and e-mails and I even recorded our phone conversations. From anyone else’s point of view this is consensual and the police or a lawyer would have nothing to go on except your word after that fact.” She modulated her voice to a much lower pitch to mimick being a man and said “Ted, did at any point you tell Laura ‘No, I don’t want this’ or use the safe word?” She responded in a slightly higher voice “No, sir, I couldn’t because she had gagged me.” In the lower voice she said “Then with the nature of BDSM as the experts have pointed out in this court how could she have known that all of your desires to be tortured were just talk? Case dismissed.”
During her little courtroom drama I became even more terrified. I would have given everything I own to somehow get out of this, I was that terrified. I stopped trying to talk through the gag as she was obviously going to do whatever she wanted anyway. My only hope is that she was just joking with me but I don’t appreciate a joke which gives me such terror.
She said “In the past few weeks I hired a contractor to turn my gaming room into a dungeon. I have so many devices and toys that we shouldn’t run out of fun things to do this weekend. I won’t rush, though, since I want to savor each torture.
“I have been working with a dominatrix named Candi to show me the ropes. A couple of weeks ago I watched a couple of sessions and even participated. Then a few days ago I hired Candi to bring into my dungeon a few of her male slaves to show me exactly how to use each of my new devices. Having a slave in a device was just delicious and I knew that I had done the right thing in having the dungeon made.”
She said “Anyway, enough talk” and undressed me, removing my shoes and socks and untying my ankles so she could pull off my pants and underwear. I didn’t try to kick or resist as I was afraid that she might lash out at me in anger or punishment and I wasn’t feeling certain any more that she was sane after her courtroom discussion, not to mention the entire situation.
I also wasn’t quite sure that this wasn’t just a joke until she wrapped a thick leather band around each of my thighs just above my knees and buckled the straps with an apparently intricate buckle system requiring extra time to connect. She pressed a button on a remote control to give me a zap of an electrical shock and my internal terror level increased further. She used the remote control to give me several more zaps of increasing intensity. She advised me to obey her completely and not try to struggle against her. The higher setting zaps were extremely painful and caused me to scream into the gag. The small breathing holes in the gag meant that my screams were only somewhat muffled but I could not form any words. I couldn’t take the electrical pain and I quickly decided to obey whatever she told me to do.
I tried to calm my terror now that apparently my life and long term health were not at stake but I didn’t know if I could survive being tortured all night, let alone all weekend. Truth be told, I’m a wimp and other than whippings I can only take a small amount of pain. And many of the torture devices which seem exciting when looking at internet videos are too terrifying for me to actually be able to take. I tried to say “I’m a wimp” several times to get her the message but it was just loud grunting sounds into the gag.
She untied my wrists and then cuffed them together behind my back. She then untied my ankles and guided me with a hand on my upper arm off the bed to walk out of the room and down the hall into the other room. I was still blindfolded and gagged and it was difficult for me to walk as my knees were shaking in terror. As we walked I mumbled a few things into the gag to try to get her attention but she told me to shut up and gave me a mid-level shock to my thighs almost causing me to fall so I kept quiet after that.
The walk lasted about a minute and then she had me kneel and lean forward so that my waist and stomach were resting against a rounded metal table just a foot or so off the ground and my body was parallel to the ground. She guided my head so that my neck rested in a round thick metal collar of some sort, forcing me to focus on not allowing gravity to pull my head down all of the way or else the metal would choke me somewhat. She un-cuffed my wrists from behind my back and guided them into hard metal shackles on the ground so that my elbows had to rest on the ground which helped my neck as I no longer had to worry about choking. Then she spread my legs and guided my ankles into hard metal shackles. She closed the collar around my neck with a loud click and told me to try to move but I couldn’t move anything other than wiggle my hands and feet. I was on the floor on my elbows and knees with my wrists and ankles locked in tight and my neck in some sort of locked metal collar or stock.
This position was uncomfortable even the first several seconds and with the cold steel against my skin I knew that it would become increasingly uncomfortable. I had never seen a device like this and it scared the hell out of me because even if she just left me here for a while it would become painful and I feared that she planned on doing more than just leaving me here.
To my surprise she removed my blindfold and looked into my frightened eyes. She paused and said “I love the look of fear in your eyes.” She sat back and said “That’s why consensual S&M doesn’t seem that exciting to me, I want to see real fear in your eyes. I can tell that you’re truly terrified, am I right? One grunt for yes, two for no.”
I grunted once for yes. I was so terrified that I wanted to grunt yes yes yes but didn’t want to be misunderstood.
She said “Good. I’d like to remove your gag to hear your wonderful voice in terror but I’m going to be keeping it on for the rest of the weekend, I think, just in case. I’ll still hear your screams through the breathing holes in your gag.”
Tears started to run down my eyes. Being locked in this cold metal bondage device at the mercy of a cruel and evil woman was more than I could take and I started crying.
She said “Why Ted, I haven’t even started torturing you. Are you that terrified?”
I managed to grunt once.
She said “How delicious. This is even better than I thought it would be. So now that you have been broken down and crying like a little girl, it’s probably best for me to release you from this and let you relax a little, right?” I grunted once. She continued “Denied! This is the best time to begin torturing you, when you are most vulnerable.”
She stood up and walked out of my limited range of view. In anticipation of what she might do to me I panicked. I tried to pull myself out of the device but managed only to cause some pain in my arms and neck. I whimpered as I heard her adjust something behind me.
I then heard a very soft machine whirring sound behind me and felt a very slight vibration of my wrist and neck restraints. Something touched the middle of my bare butt and started to push between my cheeks. It moved further forward so that it was touching just above my crack when it stopped. I felt it being adjusted a bit and then the soft whirring sound resumed and the item started to penetrate my behind.
I couldn’t move. Please let this stop. Penetrating a man’s behind is interesting when reading a BDSM story but it’s tough to watch on videos and if it happened to me I would want it to be done very carefully. I’m remembering that when she asked me about it I was non-committal and indicated that it was interesting to read about and I’m regretting now that I didn’t just say a week or two ago that I didn’t like it. Or maybe that wouldn’t have made any difference.
In any case, the dildo or plug was pushing my butt hole open wider and wider so that it was very uncomfortable and I felt it going in deeper. I could tell that it was lubricated because there wasn’t really pain of entry but the pressure once inside was painful and I felt that my whole body wanted to push it out if it could. The invader switched directions and slowly pulled itself back so that it was almost out but then it reversed directions again and pushed itself in again, seeming to go as far as it could within me. I couldn’t stop groaning as it felt like every inch of its movement was a painful and humiliating journey.
Then it pulled slowly again almost out and pushed back in. This back and forth kept going and the speed began to increase with each cycle so that it was thrusting inside of me, in and almost out. I was almost yelling from the pain and as the speed increased I was out of control feeling violated. The fucking dildo kept fucking the fuck out of me please fucking make it stop fucking me!
In my rage I opened my eyes to see her sitting on the ground in front of me again, just watching the pain and humiliation I was feeling reflected on my face. I was sweating and starting to have trouble breathing from all of the exertion in withstanding the pain so I tried to regulate my breathing but all I could concentrate on was the feeling from that fucking dildo going in and almost out of me over and over. My anger faded and all I could feel was the piston pumping inside of me.
The experience seemed like it wouldn’t end. It seems like I must have been fucked 100 times by it and I completely lost count, and it still kept going.
Finally, she got up and stopped the machine and I exhaled. She said “I could watch that all night. Hmmm, maybe I will. But there’s so much other great stuff!
“I miss hearing your beautiful voice, though. I’ll bet you’re pleading for mercy inside that gag.” I was whimpering and pleading for mercy, still in pain from all of the piston fucking.
I heard her walk to another part of the room and when she returned she had a cell phone and told me that she was going to video record me saying that I love being tortured like this, it is a dream come true and I love acting like I am protesting, please keep torturing me as much as possible. She told me that she would zap my thighs if I didn’t keep quiet and say only the words she wanted me to say and I grunted once in fear when she asked if I would obey.
But I was ready to disobey. I could not take several hours of this let alone a weekend and I held onto the hope that if she realized how horrible this was for me, and was told that this was not sexual or fun for me in any way, she might stop. It seemed futile because she already said that she didn’t want this to be consensual but she had also said that she hoped I would be enjoying this so I wanted to take my shot at that one potential hope.
My shot was quickly rejected, though. When she removed the gag from my mouth it took me a few seconds to get my mouth working again and as soon as I said “I hate being…” she zapped my thighs with a truly excruciating shock which lasted several seconds. I screamed and my entire body vibrated involuntarily within the solid metal bonds due to the pain. When the shock ended she said “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
Karen looked into my tearful terror-filled eyes and said “Are you going to behave now?” and I tried to nod my head vigorously until I realized that I couldn’t and then I grunted once.
I did my best to obey her commands on what to say into the cell phone video recorder. It took several tries as I stumbled on the lines but she did not punish me with a shock as it was clear that I was trying. Eventually, I made it through a performance which was satisfactory and she told me that she would probably not gag me again because she loved to hear my voice.
She said “Ted, you’re probably afraid to say anything now but I want you to feel free to say anything you want to. There is plenty enough “reasonable doubt” about you being a willing participant in this no matter what you say from now on. So say anything you want. Now is your time.”
I took a few deep breaths as she talked and tried to calm my nerves. My body was aching all over from being in the unmoving metal bondage on top of being piston-fucked and then electrified.
My voice was at a higher pitch than I wanted. I said the safe word but received no response so I said it again. I then said “Please let me go. I know that I said I enjoy some D/s but this is way too far. I’m really a wimp and can’t take much pain at all and I’m in agony here.” I began crying as I continued “If you let me go we can talk about what tortures I can take and I promise to let you do all of those. I’ll be your slave. Anything you want. Please. Write up a contract. Anything you want.”
She stopped me by saying “Ted, you’re babbling. I could listen to you babble and beg all night but there are other devices I want you to experience.”
In near panic I said “Please no, please!” and then cried and sobbed uncontrollably.
With glee, she said “Yes!”
A minute or so later, after my sobbing reduced, Karen released my ankles from the metal restraints and allowed me to bring my feet together which gave my back and thigh muscles some relief. She then cuffed my ankles together and released my hands from their metal restraints. I kept my elbows to the ground to bear my weight and avoid choking until she unlocked and lifted the neck piece which had restrained my neck. I felt like the world had been lifted off my neck and felt almost human again. That feeling was very short-lived when she blindfolded me.
She helped me lean back to a kneeling position and cuffed my wrists behind my back and then removed my ankle cuffs. With only my wrists cuffed and the shock wraps still around my thighs, I was helped to a standing position and steadied when I almost lost my balance.
I wasn’t thinking about escaping because I knew that she could zap the shit out of my thighs at any time but I noticed that she was never giving me a chance even without the shock wraps as at least either my wrists or ankles were cuffed at all times. Apparently, the dominatrix Candi she had hired had shown her good techniques for moving a victim around.
Blindfolded and naked, I was led to another part of the room. For some reason every step of my bare feet on hard and smooth floor was unsteady as I was worried I would step on something painful, which was ridiculous because I knew that there would be horrible pain regardless of being careful where I stepped. I was a nervous wreck.
My ankles were restrained apart by a spreader bar which was attached to the floor somehow so that my feet were spread apart on the floor and could not move and then my wrist cuffs were removed and my wrists put into thick flexible shackles attached to the ceiling. Trying to find any positive in the situation, I was glad not to be shackled in metal this time. Karen adjusted some sort of pulley system and my wrists were lifted until I was spread-eagled with my heels slightly off the ground and my weight on the balls of my feet. Shackled spread-eagled while standing was a familiar position for me as I had been dominated in this way before.
After several seconds she started whipping me with a somewhat heavy many-strand flogger. This was familiar territory for me so I felt that this would be much better than the previous torture, the pain of which still lingered in my mind and inside my behind.
She whipped my butt and my upper back and it hurt but was bearable and would have been enjoyable under other circumstances. I knew from experience that the pain would keep increasing and I would groan in pain and that expectation was met except, as I feared, she did not slow down once I started groaning loudly in pain. This was going to really hurt.
After a few more blows I started yelling and to my surprise, she stopped. That wasn’t so bad.
Then she grabbed a somewhat long and very intimidating single-tail whip and showed it to me. Shit, I’m not going to be able to take that.
I said “Please, I’ve never been whipped with that before.” My whining sounded pathetic, even to me. But she enjoyed it.
Karen laughed a bit and said “Good, then you can treat this as a learning experience.”
As she walked behind me I futilely persisted “Please, please don’t use that on me, I won’t be able to take it” as my voice went a bit higher in pitch. I couldn’t stop myself from whining as I begged.
She flicked the whip and I felt an immediate burning sensation on my butt. I squirmed away from it and yelled in pain. She said “That was just one stroke, how many do you think you can take before you’re willing to do anything to avoid the next one?”
I didn’t think about the irony of the question considering that I already said I couldn’t take it so I said “None, please, I’ll do anything you say, please please” and I started to whimper from the terror I was feeling.
My fear was on point because she worked me over with that nasty whip, taking her time between strokes. There wasn’t a single blow which was not agony to me, even ones which did not fully hit the mark. The blindfold prevented me from knowing when or where the next searing stroke would hit while not being gagged gave me full voice to scream. And I did scream.
At times in the pauses between blows I wondered how anyone could be that evil and sadistic to listen to such howling in agony and continue the torture. How could she be such a horrifying monster? At other times I wished she would just kill me and end the pain until I remembered that she was not going to kill me at all. I tried to comfort myself that this was only temporary but the anticipation of a full weekend of excruciating agony prevented me from experiencing any emotional comfort.
I almost passed out from the pain of the single-tail whip but not quite, there was enough time between blows so that I could catch my breath.
I was completely spent, exhausted from the pain and the flinching away from the blows, but the whip kept its course against my butt, upper back, and the back of my thighs. I felt like I would die just from the agony.
Finally, the whipping was over. My skin still felt like it was literally on fire but she gave me no relief and kept me shackled spread-eagled. My throat was sore from screaming and my voice was raspy. I didn’t have enough wits to be able to say anything anyway, just whimpers and groans. At the edge of my mind I heard her moan as apparently she was bringing herself to climax.
I must have passed out for a bit as I suddenly felt her hand on my upper back and she told me to drink water from a straw which I did. There was a stark contrast between the cool water and the burning agony of my skin. Still in pain I begged her to please put something cool against my back and to my surprise she agreed.
She went to get something and then told me that she brought some ice for me. She brushed her hand over the burning sensation in the middle of my upper back and then pressed ice to it. I screamed, or really croaked, in pain as the ice was way too cold against the skin between my shoulder blades and as she laughed she held the ice against my back until it melted while I yelled in pain. She repeated this on my upper back a few times as I struggled to get away from the ice pain and screamed as loud as I could with my raspy voice. Once that was done and the ice pain receded my back actually felt better as the burning sensation had mostly faded and was replaced by a numbing sensation while my butt and the back of my thighs still burned.
She walked away a bit, leaving me still spread-eagled and blindfolded, and said “Ted, this is the happiest day of my life. Maybe you can keep in your memory after this weekend that you made a woman very happy. Maybe that will help you through the emotional trauma of getting over this weekend.” I didn’t respond as I didn’t know what to say. She continued “I don’t know why I’m trying to console you, maybe it’s because I like you. That won’t stop me from torturing you, though.” She got up and I tensed up in fear.
I decided that I had to take another shot at ending this horrific ordeal. Despite my terror and exhaustion I said with a very normal and calm voice “Karen, may I ask a question?”
I was proud of myself for being able to talk like a normal human being after whimpering and screaming in a higher pitch for the past hour or more.
She replied “Yes, Ted, you may always ask.”
Still calm, I said “Karen, I honestly can’t take any more of this. I thought that I would enjoy BDSM but I was wrong, I just can’t take pain and this is killing me. I’m really a wimp. How about if you let me go?” I fought the strong force pushing me to beg and plead and just kept it as a civil and sincere question.
She replied “No, I’m having way too much fun. I will let you go after this weekend, though, I promise.”
There went my hopes. I had to keep trying, though, so I said “I’m not play-acting or pretending. This torture is far beyond what I could take and I might never recover from this ordeal.” I said the safe word again.
Karen said “I know you aren’t pretending. That’s part of what makes this so delicious. Knowing that you would probably rip your leg off to be able to escape the pain and hearing your sincere screams of agony is the best thing I have ever experienced. I only wish I could extend it beyond just this weekend.”
That threat unhinged me and I could not control my voice as it went higher “Please, I really can’t take any more, please don’t hurt me please please let me go.”
She said “Ted, you’re babbling again. Please continue, I like it!” I did continue for a bit but it turned into just wordless whimpering and then I fell silent and cried into the blindfold.
I should have continued babbling because she waited for me to stop and then she started preparing me for the next torture. I started babbling again but it did no good so I stopped again as she guided me into another solid metal device.
A few minutes later I found myself still blindfolded and held rigid by a series of cold metal restraints with my arms and legs pulled uncomfortably behind my back and separated slightly from each other as my body was positioned vertically, with most of my weight being on my knees which had padding underneath and positioned in their own metal supports. Straps held my upper stomach back to a metal frame. My neck was put into its own metal restraint and, other than wiggling my fingers and toes and moving my mouth, I had no ability to move. There was no give in the metal of this device, similar to the metal from the earlier device. Apparently, Karen could afford the best equipment.
What kind of company would make such strict and horrific bondage equipment? Aren’t there laws about creating torture devices? I already knew the answers to these ridiculous questions.
I took some solace that my back and butt were not exposed to further torture in this configuration and the burning sensation from the whipping could continue to lessen on its own. I worried, though, that the front of my body was very vulnerable and I could only think of two sensitive areas as likely targets, my nipples and my groin. Unfortunately, I was right.
I tried to squirm but simply could not move more than a small fraction of an inch. I started to beg again but I sounded like a broken record and she wasn’t even reacting to it any more so I stopped. It was difficult to talk as I couldn’t open my mouth wide due to the solid metal neck restraint.
She told me “Ted, I’m going to put clips and weights on your nipples. You mentioned to me a week ago that you’ve experienced this before but it was very painful so I might go easy on you.” She laughed a bit and said “You know I’m kidding about going easy on you.”
She pinched my left nipple and attached a clip to it. I yelped in pain and jumped but my body just pushed futilely against the metal of the device. She attached a clip to my right nipple and I yelped again. Even without any weights being applied I was already whining in trying to withstand the pain.
She said “You really are a wimp! You were right. Well, sucks to be you!” and then I felt a constant tug on my left nipple which increased the pain followed by a constant tug on my right nipple. The neck restraint prevented me from being able to lower my head to see quite what was going on. I was groaning continuously from the pain. She then apparently attached with a thin chain the two weights together across my chest and briefly pulled on the chain a few times.
My entire world was compressed to my nipples. I felt excruciating and constant pain punctuated by additional pain from the chain being pulled and I was screaming out loud. My scream quickly became a croak as I had been screaming frequently since this ordeal began.
Beyond my world of agony I heard her say “What a baby! Candi said that most guys don’t start screaming until a lot more weight is added and even then some guys don’t even groan.” I then heard her moan a bit and realized that she was bringing herself to orgasm.
After I don’t know how long my screams died down to whimpers and I could almost bear the pain. Maybe those guys she mentioned don’t groan because they have become used to the pain but I’m not used to it at all. Come to think of it, I could never get used to this pain as it’s just way too much. I was breathing in gasps through my nose.
She apparently removed the weights because the tug on my nipples stopped and the pain reduced to a manageable level. I was still somewhat gasping in trying to catch my breath between groans since the clips were still attached. I opened my eyes for the first time since the clips had been applied to see Karen’s face gazing at me almost lovingly, clearly reveling in her own sadism at my expense. It seemed to me that her look was one of afterglow from wonderful sex. In this context, even though she was attractive, she looked like a monster.
I hoped that was the end of this torture but she was ready for more and started to prepare her next activity. I begged “Please let me rest and catch my breath, please please please” and cried some more to no avail. She used a baby-mother voice to say “Aw poor baby having a tough time? Poor poor baby” as she continued her preparations. I wished that she would treat me like a little baby, in BDSM little babies usually are just humiliated and not tortured beyond hell.
Still with that voice Karen asked “Does baby need to pee?” There was a moment of silence before I realized that she actually wanted me to answer that. I hadn’t thought of it much until now but I did somewhat need to pee. Figuring that I might not get another chance for a while I said “Yes, please.” In a normal voice she said “Ok, one moment” and holding my dick for the first time she allowed me to pee a moderate amount into a glass. She then said “Time for you to drink it” and to my horror she put a straw next to my mouth for me to drink. These watersports were out of bounds for me in BDSM but apparently nothing was out of bounds here. I drank a small amount a few times between coughing but it was not too bad and considering that the alternative was excruciating torture I was more-or-less a willing participant with this. I did not feel sick to my stomach as I think my body was thankful for the relief of not being tortured at the moment.
Once she was done making me drink, she said “Ted, I’m going to torture your dick.” She put her hand in my groin area and gently held my balls up. I was wondering when she would get to this, it seemed inevitable. In previous days and weeks when she would ask me about this I would say that the thought of being hurt in the groin in some way was exciting to me but that I probably couldn’t take much of it.
As usual, in my previous discussions with her I had overestimated my own ability to take pain. I had never experienced groin pain within BDSM before and incorrectly figured that I could enjoy some mild pain, but in reality I’m a wimp about that, too, as I am with most pain. Even now without pain I was getting freaked out just from her grabbing my balls.
Karen said “I am going to get you hard and then whip your dick.” She started to tenderly caress my dick but there was no reaction at first. In my state of terror and agony it would take more than just a caress. She kept at it a while and though I didn’t much enjoy it, my dick did become somewhat hard.
WHACK. I felt the strong sting of a small crop in the middle of my dick and I croaked loud. WHACK. The second stroke elicited another loud croak and I felt as though I might faint soon from the pain. My dick had become limp so she started caressing it again but it was burning in agony and would not rise no matter what she did to it. She said some things which I didn’t hear through my haze of pain although I could tell that she was confused and a bit frustrated at my dick’s reaction. She stopped gently stroking it as I tried to catch my breath again. She removed the nipple clips and rubbed my nipples a bit to help wipe away the pain.
I heard her walk away from me and several seconds later I heard her open a door and close it.
After all of this pain my body was physically exhausted. If I were released from the machine I was certain that I would just slump to the ground. I closed my eyes and tried to pass out from exhaustion if not from pain but was unsuccessful.
She stayed away for probably 15-20 minutes and I was very thankful for the respite, even though my body was in pain. I took inventory of my pain: upper back from the whip was mostly fine, butt from the whip was still burning a bit but not bad, back of my thighs from the whip were still burning somewhat, nipples from the clips were still in pain, inside my butt from the fucking machine was still feeling some pain, and dick from the whip was still in pain. I started to count all of the other areas of my body in pain from the tight metal bondage but I thought better of it and tried to take my mind off it.
I dreaded the moment when I would hear that door open. When it occurred, my body almost jumped. I heard her steps approach and I was shaking in fear. I probably would have peed due to the terror had I not peed just a half hour earlier.
As she got near me she stopped and said “Ted, I’m going to release you in a moment.” This was one of her evil tricks to get my hopes up but I played along because I didn’t want to be punished.
I said still in my submissive higher than normal voice “Thank you thank you thank you.”
She said “You don’t believe me” and walked up next to me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and said “Ted, I’m not going to apologize or say what I did was wrong but I guess I’ve had enough fun. In planning this I figured that a weekend of torture was not that much of a problem but I could see that it is, or at least it is for you. Candi told me that many guys go ape crazy for a chance at a weekend of torture but we were talking about consensual BDSM and I guess this is different from what I thought it would be, as are other things.”
I was beginning to believe that I would be released in a moment but I wasn’t going to hold my breath yet. I really didn’t care much about motivations or apologies, I just wanted out.
She continued “Would you mind if I ask you a favor?”
Strange question as I didn’t have any real choice, I said “Not at all.”
She said “Would you mind e-mailing me how you are doing after a few days or a week? I’m hoping that you can get over what’s happened to you tonight and it would make me feel better to find out. If you would like any counseling or medical help, I would be glad to pay for all of it.”
I couldn’t think straight about whether or not I was okay with having anything to do with her after I was released but I agreed without thinking about it since I wasn’t going to say no in my position.
She told me that she was going to remove all bondage from me and help me get dressed and walk me to the door, although I would need to leave the shock wraps on my thighs until I was gone. I was instructed not to come back and if I did I would be met with a security system and some sort of punishment which she didn’t identify. I had no desire to come back for revenge and I told her that.
Everything she said about my release came to pass. I was very weak from the bondage and torture and had to be helped into a nearby chair for several minutes before I could walk slowly on my own. She gave me a couple of prescription pain pills which I accepted gratefully. She helped me dress and then led me through the house to the front door. As instructed, once she closed the door behind me I unbuckled and removed the shock collars from my thighs and left the collars on the lawn.
As I drove home I wondered if this really happened because it was surreal and beyond my worst nightmare but that wonder quickly went away as I still felt the pain in almost every part of my body. I went into a bit of shock and had to pull over to the side of the road for a few minutes to take several deep breaths.
I spent the rest of the weekend trying to get away from the vivid memories of the different tortures I experienced, with each of them jumping into my consciousness from time to time. I wondered if I would ever be free of the waking nightmares. I also felt very ashamed that I was not stronger in being able to take pain without such emotional trauma and a few times I cried from the shame. I was not physically damaged in any way other than some lingering pain and marks from the different whippings, which all receded by Sunday afternoon.
By Sunday night I mostly forgave myself for being weak and began my recovery. I took Monday and Tuesday off sick from work and spent time relaxing with escapist activities such as reading science fiction short stories.
On Wednesday night after work I thought about the idea of e-mailing Karen as she had asked and started shaking in fear. I was thankful that she had not e-mailed me and I decided not to contact her at all.
On Friday night I felt better and confident that I would get over the emotional trauma at some point, maybe soon. I decided that probably in a few days I would e-mail Karen so that she would not try to perpetrate this on someone else, or maybe in a week. Or two.
On Saturday morning I decided to look into my fear of Karen even though she was gone and not a threat. As I thought about her I was terrified. Later that morning I realized that I was not afraid of her, I was afraid of my own weakness. I no longer had any desire for BDSM, not even reading stories or looking at videos, and even the thought of someday having a vanilla girlfriend wasn’t fun. I guess that’s one of the effects of emotional trauma, maybe you lose your sense of fun for some things.
I decided to look again at my emotional trauma. What is the big deal? I was tortured much less than in some BDSM sessions I’d read about previously. Just a bunch of whipping which was something I used to enjoy plus a few other non-extreme BDSM activities. What is the big fucking deal?
This was not a good weekend. It’s no fun learning to hate yourself. On top of that Karen e-mailed me Sunday afternoon with a quick message asking if I was okay. I didn’t respond.
The following week of work helped get my mind off my issues. My self-hatred was just going to have to bury itself because I need to let Karen know how horrible this has been for me so that she does not try to hurt someone else. Maybe I should find some web site to blacklist her? That’s ridiculous, it would say much more about myself if I tried to post something, I would only end up looking like an idiot.
On Wednesday night, 12 days after my ordeal, I e-mailed Karen. “Karen, you asked me to e-mail you. Life has been hell for me the past couple of weeks. If you ever think about doing this to someone else, I ask that you don’t do that.”
A half hour later Karen responded “Ted, I’m so sorry. Please let me set you up with a therapist or would you prefer a medical doctor? I have decided to try a completely consensual scene with someone and I think I will enjoy it. I will never have a non-consensual scene again, I promise. The pain I’ve been feeling the past 12 days is not worth it at all.”
I wrote back “Fuck you. How dare you talk about your pain!” but I decided not to send it and clicked Close instead. What the hell pain is she talking about? She didn’t even apologize a couple of weeks ago for torturing me although she said she’s sorry about something in today’s e-mail. She said she wouldn’t have a non-consensual scene again and that would have to be enough. I deleted her e-mails.
A week later I was feeling much better. I still had some shame about being such a baby wimp about it but I began to laugh at myself about it instead of feeling rage.
I started to wonder how someone like Karen could be such a monster. She mentioned, though, that she was feeling pain. Maybe she was just temporarily insane and came back to reality. How would I feel if I became a monster and tortured someone only to regret it later? I would feel a lot of emotional pain.
I wrestled with the idea of e-mailing her again. Why would I want to do that? I didn’t have a good reason but as a human being I felt some compassion if she was having problems. She could afford her own therapist but still I felt the need to e-mail her though I’m still not sure why. “Hi Karen, I am doing okay now. Are you doing okay?”
She responded only 5 minutes later “Ted, thank you for the e-mail. Great timing. I am glad you are doing okay.”
She didn’t answer my question. She probably wanted to respond “I am doing great, I masturbate every night thinking of you screaming in pain, bitch!” but on the off chance that I am wrong I decided to respond. Also, I’m better than that, I need to get over my trauma and resume being a normal person again.
I replied “Why is it great timing?”
She replied just a couple of minutes later “I probably shouldn’t tell you, you wouldn’t want me to write about it.”
I need to face this. It’s not so bad. She won’t ever torture me again and it’s only words on a page. I responded “I do want to know. You can tell me the truth.”
She responded “I am just starting to start post messages advertising to sell all of the equipment I just bought. I had a consensual experience and it wasn’t fun. To be honest I missed you, not the non-consensual part but just being with you. When I was whipping him I could only see you and when I would see you I would cry because of what I did to you. I am so sorry for what I did. If I had to do it all over again I wouldn’t. You probably don’t believe me and I don’t blame you if you don’t ever respond to me or even if you don’t read this e-mail. I’m just sorry and I hope you can put that evening behind you and move on. I’m really sorry.”
I read this over a few times. At first I didn’t believe it and wondered if she was just playing me for a fool. I was still not sure but I decided to believe it. I felt sorry for her. In the times I have accidentally emotionally hurt someone I felt horrible afterwards and I could only imagine Karen’s feelings, if she truly is sorry.
In her e-mail I also read an invitation between the lines. Maybe it was just my imagination but I think she wants me back as a boyfriend. When I thought about this I laughed, mostly in emotional pain. She brutalized me, tortured me. She ripped from me any BDSM enjoyment and maybe any sexual enjoyment I would ever have. I should probably just delete her e-mail and never respond again. I didn’t do that, though.
I wrote back “Karen, I recommend before you do anything else that you see one of the therapists you mentioned. Also, would you mind referring me to a therapist? I could use one and my work’s insurance doesn’t cover that.”
I felt very adult for sending that e-mail. After weeks of being mamby-pamby and feeling victimized I am finally taking an approach towards healing.
Karen and I did each see our own therapists. I had never seen a psychologist before and found it to be helpful. I could reveal inner feelings without feeling judged. It helped me to discuss issues, mostly with myself while the therapist listened and helped guide my monologues. I realized that I still care for Karen, despite the torture ordeal. My therapist and I wonder if it was the effect of feeling compassion or love for your tormentor but I couldn’t say for sure, I liked Karen a lot for weeks before that evening. Regardless, I decided to get back in touch with Karen to see how she is doing.
On a Tuesday night two weeks after our last e-mails working out the details of the therapist, I e-mailed Karen again “Hi Karen, how are you doing? The therapist you referred me to has been a big help to me.”
She responded a bit later that evening “Hi Ted, it is great to hear from you again. I am so glad that you are getting good help! My therapist has been okay but I’m not sure that I like the direction she is going, I’ll keep seeing her though. Please stay in touch. I’m so sorry and I’m glad to know that your therapist is a big help.”
I took the bait, I guess I can’t help myself, and wrote back “Karen, if you don’t mind my asking, what direction are you not sure about? You don’t have to let me know if you don’t want to.”
She responded “Ted, you have a knack for bringing up subjects which are difficult for me. That’s a good thing because I need to stop avoiding difficult subjects. My therapist wants me to beg you for forgiveness. I wasn’t sure if that would put unfair pressure on you because I don’t deserve forgiveness for such a horrible thing. Also, and I hope you don’t feel unfair pressure about this either, she wanted me to ask you on a date again even after the terrible things I did. I guess I decided she is right because I’m sending this e-mail. Please feel free to tell me to stop writing you about these things if you want me to. I understand and I’m sorry.”
This was too much. I couldn’t think straight and my emotions were all over the place. I did not respond until after my next therapy session two nights later.
I said “Sweetie, how long do you think it will be before we can go into that room again?”
It is now 7 months after Karen asked me for a date that first time after the ordeal. We had both desperately wanted to get back together and were able to overcome our emotional difficulties stemming from the evening of the ordeal. It wasn’t as difficult for me as I thought it would be. Despite her weakness from the first time we met, she is a wonderful and beautiful woman inside and out and I am lucky to be with her. She has had a difficult road feeling good, though, as it has taken her months to deal with the guilt and there are still some residual feelings.
Since we got back together over 6 months ago, we spent a couple of months just getting to know each other again and then we started experimenting with BDSM. Karen has indicated to me that our first couple of sessions were not that fun because she was overly concerned about my feelings but with my assurances she has become more comfortable and now we enjoy the sessions a lot, although she is hesitant about putting me in any bondage and we haven’t even used any of the equipment she purchased for that room. The equipment is still there, though, and hopefully one day she will feel comfortable with herself again enough to use it on me.
My own feelings have been less complex although possibly more confusing. It took me several weeks but I realized that I was not harmed during the ordeal and in thinking back to the feelings of utter helplessness while being able to withstand much more torture than I had thought I could, I am eager to try out the equipment again, albeit with less pain involved. I would never want to go through a non-consensual session again, of course, but I would like to be pushed to my limits. My excitement about BDSM with Karen has returned. I can’t adequately describe the feeling of joy in being able to get through a session of pain. In a way, it makes me feel strong.
But that equipment can wait. I will not push Karen into anything uncomfortable. For now we can stick with sessions in which she yells at me and whips me while listening to me in case I use our established safe word, if that is the most she feels comfortable with.
Karen responded “Honey, probably soon. I’m feeling more and more comfortable and I know that you’ve been thinking about those devices for a while, even though I marvel at how you can do that.”
I said “It’s okay. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. It can wait.”
She smiled and said “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She paused and said “How about now?”
I felt an inner glow and said “Yes, that would be great.”
She commanded “Get your fucking clothes off!”
I love that moment of transition from being a boyfriend to being a slave and victim. And tonight is even more exciting because I will be bound and tortured in that room. And I was 100% confident that she would honor the safe word if I used it.
After I had quickly removed my clothes she put my collar on me and led me by a short leash down the hall into the equipment room dungeon. I felt a chill go down my spine but not a chill of true fear as from 7 months ago, it was a chill of excitement and anticipation mixed with a bit of fear. Or more than a bit of fear.
She led me to the center of the room where she shackled me spread-eagled standing with a spreader bar keeping my ankles apart, just like a year ago. She grabbed a small cat-o-nine-tails which is the tamest whip in her arsenal. When we were picking out the different whips to include a few months ago she wanted this one in particular because it was very mild.
She looked closely into my face and in a low voice asked “Are you okay?” I was a bit put off by her breaking the scene this way but I completely understood and hoped that she was doing okay. I started to reply “Y-“ but she interrupted by yelling into my face “It doesn’t fucking matter!” and then she laughed and slapped my face hard with her open palm. It was great.
She clearly enjoyed the whipping session which followed, moving from lightweight cat to crop to heavy flogger to a few strokes from the cane. I was pushed right up to my limit but I didn’t safe word because I knew that I would be fine. As she pushed me even further with the pain of the flogger I felt a rush of adrenaline and was able to withstand it without even screaming as much as I had been. Once it was over, Karen hugged my head against her breast as I cried. It was wonderful.
A couple of months later, she beat me to it.
For almost a week I had been trying to think of a way to ask Karen to marry me when she showed me a slave contract and asked if I would like to be her husband slave. It was the happiest day of my life. Not only would I love to spend the rest of my life with her but the thought of being her 24/7 slave was very exciting. We both agreed that it would not be true 24/7 slavery, as some couples have, because that was farther than we were willing to go but we agreed to work on the very fine details of a contract which would be emotional binding, albeit of course not legally binding. We spent a few happy weeks together working on the details of the contract.
We had a small marriage ceremony exactly one year to the day after that momentous night of the ordeal. We had to fight all of our desires to make it a slave wedding because our friends and relatives would probably not appreciate that. Still, I was able to get the wedding official to include in my vow that I would love, honor, and obey and Karen had me wear pink frilly panties underneath my wedding suit.
On our wedding night we agreed that I would be placed into the fucking dildo machine for the first time in a year. I had been looking forward to it despite some fear and while Karen was also looking forward to it, she had some misgivings about it. We both came through it with flying colors. I felt the same extreme discomfort and humiliation from the device as I had one year ago but in the context of BDSM it was wonderful. As soon as I was released from the cold metal device I kissed her feet over and over with tears in my eyes from crying and thanked her for putting me through that.
I do not recommend this path to others as it could lead to very dark and difficult times for both. Karen and I found true love with each other even before we met and that helped us through that one terrible evening. It is difficult to look back at that night but if I had to do it all over again, I would do it just the same way as long as it had the same ending.
Word Count = 10,600
See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.