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Me, Myself, and I

Category: Mature
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“Damn, damn, damn!” I thought to myself, “What in the world have you gotten yourself into now, girl?”

I squirmed against the intense sensation of the vibrator as I felt and heard the unrelenting driving, pounding sound of the mini stallion as it forced the dildo deep inside me, then back out. Chuk-a-chuk-a-chuk-a-chuk, over and over and over, no stopping it.

I pulled helplessly against my bonds, straining against the padded leather wrist cuffs. I tensed the muscles in my thighs, pulling as hard as I could with my legs – but the ankle cuffs and thigh straps were unrelenting also. Sighing, panting into the ball gag firmly lodged in my mouth I felt my muscles go slack for a moment. There was no escape, I realized!

And with the realization that I was helpless the sensations of stimulation became overpowering. I tried to scream but only a stifled “mmmmmm…mmmmhhhummmph” escaped as I arched my back, hips rising, opening, presenting myself, shaking, surrendering to a powerful climax. My fifth? Sixth? Somehow time had lost all meaning; I didn’t know if I’d been like this for minutes or hours. Glancing at the clock on my nightstand I saw the time…9:24 PM, twenty four minutes into this torture.

I wondered how much more of this I could take.

I panted as my climax gradually subsided. The last thing I wanted now was more stimulation, but the mini stallion and vibrator continued relentlessly. I wriggled, pulling back and down, trying to escape the vibrator, but the spring loaded mechanism kept it firmly pressed against my clit. My thigh and leg bonds prevented me from moving more than an inch in any direction.

There was no escape! Over stimulated, the powerful vibrator on my swollen clit was painful beyond belief! I wanted it to stop, stop for just a few minutes, I couldn’t stand it! I screamed uselessly into the ball gag; again only muffled sounds came out.

In a dim corner of my mind I remembered my escape plan, remembered how – but it would take at least five minutes for me to free myself enough that I could move the vibrator, turn the stallion off. Fingers shaking I started to turn the turnbuckle, a half turn with my left hand, pause, strain, a half turn with my right hand, pause. I’d counted: It would require sixty three full turns before I’d be free.

In the meantime the vibrator kept thrashing my clit around, the dildo continued its invasion of my inner regions, chug-a-chug-a-chug…on and on. Now I couldn’t make myself turn the clamp for some reason, and I screamed into the ball gag again as I felt another climax building, knowing I was helpless…

Three weeks before was when it started.

First a bit about myself. I’m a thirty five years old reasonably attractive single female. I work as an executive for a medium sized company, which pays me a good salary. I have no boyfriend at present; my last relationship ended six months ago. I own a house in a good neighborhood, have a three year old Mercedes, no kids or pets.

Since I got my job I’ve had trouble meeting men. It’s not that I’m not interested; just that I don’t really have the time to put into a long term relationship right now. As if my schedule wasn’t busy enough I’m about halfway done with my MBA. Between school and work I don’t have much more time for anything.

But being a normal girl I still have needs and desires. I could do the one night stand thing – show up alone at one of the local meat markets, take a guy home, fuck his brains out, then never see him again – but there are problems with that. Aids, being beaten or killed, someone from work recognizing me. All are significant drawbacks.

And so I play on the internet. I found a sex site that had a bulletin board and created an anonymous identity. Different name, but described myself exactly – 5 foot zero inches, 105 pounds, 34C-22-32. Describing my tits to the guys (they’re silicone, but look super!) drove most of them wild. I found I could get a conversation going with some unknown guy and if I were just a BIT inventive I’d soon have him describing all the things he’d do to me in excruciating detail.

This was fun, especially as it allowed me to explore fantasies, perversions I’d be much too afraid to try. Men described how they’d spank me, how I’d be their slave girl, how they’d use me for their pleasure. It was all titillating and exciting! Most girls would agree that sex for women is about 90 percent mental anyway. I was getting the mental part; afterwards I’d go home and give Mr. Buzzy a good workout and I’d be in good shape for a day or two.

A sweet arrangement. Then I got The Picture.

Now, let me explain. I’d set up an anonymous email also; guys sent me emails and pictures regularly. The pictures usually were of themselves or of a fantasy they enjoyed and thought I’d participate in with them. Most were mildly interesting at best; some were downright gross.

Then one day I opened a picture a guy sent me, and it blew me away.

The picture was of a girl, mid to late twenties, short dark hair the same color as mine but a bit shorter; small boobs, a small girl, probably not much bigger than me. And she was spread eagled on a white sheet on a bed, wearing leather wrist and ankle cuffs; they were tied to the corners of the bed. She had a ball gag in her mouth, strapped behind her head.

She was naked.

But the most incredible things were: She had a hugs dildo jammed in her pussy, held there by some kind of rod (it ran out of the picture). And there was a stand rigged up like a microphone stand but instead of a microphone there was a huge vibrator with a mushroom head attached to the end and it was resting right on the top of her pussy.

Her head was up off the sheet; she was looking down at the vibrator and at herself. She had the most pitiful look on her face, like she was trying to scream or say something but couldn’t get it out for the gag. She was slick from sweat, her hair stringy and plastered to her head. She looked like she’d been exercising intensely for some time.

Now, this should have disgusted me. At least that’s what I kept thinking as I stared at the girl in the picture. And then a strange thought crossed my mind.

I wanted to be that girl.

I closed the picture, disgusted with myself. Bound, helpless, tortured like that – what was wrong with me?

But I couldn’t help it. I kept going back and opening the picture, staring at the girl. “What’s your story?” I asked her. “Why are you there, what is happening to you?”

I reread the email. The guy had posted the picture as a link. I “back traced” a bit, found the parent site. It was called “slave girl dot com” or something. Fascinated, I entered the site, began to read.

The men who operated the site charged a fee, twenty bucks a month for full access. I’d never signed up for a porn site before but I couldn’t help myself – I went to the signup page and forked over my credit card number. Armed with full access I found the video of the girl in the picture; the picture was a still from an hour long video. I watched the whole thing, a couple of times. I watched a few others. I was fascinated!

“They come in as girls,” the site proclaimed on its first page, “but leave as slaves. Most have never been fucked by a machine; those girls are scared at first. The ones who’ve been machine-fucked before can’t wait to get it again!”

So, the way it worked was: The girl signed a release, was paid some undisclosed amount of money. She then got a full physical to make certain she didn’t have medical problems that would keep her from being stimulated for a long period of time.


Anyway, she then stripped for the cameras. One of the men would then help her put the wrist and ankle cuffs on. The girl would usually start getting a little concerned; when the ball gag was produced most got downright scared. At this point someone would remind her that she’d signed a contract and already been paid; if she didn’t fulfill the contract they’d sue her. And besides, they assured her she wouldn’t be hurt in any way.

And so the girl would reluctantly put the ball gag in her mouth, pulling the strap behind her head. And the man would indicate that she was to lie on the bed and he’d then pull ropes from the corners of the bed and attach them to her wrist and ankle cuffs. And then he’d put thigh straps around each of her thighs and attach ropes to them also.

The ropes had some kind of slide; if they were pulled they could be shortened. The man would first pull her hands up so she was helpless. Then he’d pull her thigh and leg ropes so she was spread wide. He’d adjust everything so she was more or less secured, able to squirm a bit but not much.

Then he’d produce the mini stallion. It was what was called a “fucking machine”, a small metal and plastic device. It had a motor with variable speed control and a metal wheel about six inches in diameter. A metal rod was attached to the wheel by a clip: By adjusting the clip the stroke length could be varied.

The girl’s eyes would get really wide; she’d try to protest as the man explained this to her but the gag always prevented anything but muffled sounds. As he’d put the machine in place at the foot of the bed he’d put some lube on a dildo attached to the rod, then adjust the rod so the dildo entered her pussy. This was usually accompanied by more muffled sounds and squirming, but the girl’s bonds would hold her so she couldn’t escape.

Then the man would turn the machine on, slow strokes at first. The wheel would turn forcing the rod out; the dildo would slide into the girl’s pussy.

I watched the girl’s faces as they were invaded by the soft plastic penis. Most arched their backs and squeezed their eyes tightly shut as they felt themselves impaled on the artificial cock. Some moaned, some tried to scream.

Then the wheel would continue its motion, pulling the dildo almost all the way out. Then again it would go slowly in; again slowly out. After a bit the girl would begin to relax, usually panting into her gag. When the man would see this acceptance he’d begin to increase the frequency of the strokes. After five minutes he’d have the machine to about sixty or so strokes a minute, about what you’d get when a man was driving toward his own climax.

I can tell you – with a real man inside your pussy you wouldn’t get that for long, though!

And the man would leave the machine on, continuing its invasion of the girl’s pussy. The girl would squirm from time to time and moan a bit. I knew what was happening: The sensations felt good; she wanted to climax but didn’t have any clitoral stimulation.

I imagined how I’d feel in her place.

Then after a half hour or so of this torture the man would produce a metal stand, a microphone stand but with a vibrator on the end. Not a wussy battery one either; the vib actually plugged in to the wall! He’d adjust the stand so the mushroom head of the vibrator was at the top of her slit, right on her clit. Then he’d turn it on.

Usually the girl would cum quickly, in less than a minute, moaning into the gag and bucking as much as she was able in her restraints. Then as she relaxed she’d try to wriggle away from the vibrator (again I could sympathize; the last thing I wanted after cumming was more stimulation!) but the man would keep the powerful vibrator firmly against her clit.

This was the look on the face of the girl in the picture I was sent. Helpless, over stimulated, wanting it to end but unable to – at the mercy of the man.

This would continue for an hour, sometimes more. The poor girl would cum and cum and cum, over and over and over, until she was nothing but a panting, sweating bundle of nerves. She’d strain and strain against the ropes, over and over, until her strength was depleted and she lay helpless in the huge wet spot her juices had produced.

When they were released the girls wouldn’t be able to move. The man would offer them water, holding a straw in the glass. They’d drink one, two, three glasses greedily. The men would laugh and make some rude comments. Then the video would end.

I watched twenty girls being abused in this manner. I felt ashamed of myself, ashamed that I found this so exciting. I kept imagining I was sleeping; a man broke into my house and held me down and put wrist and ankle cuffs on me, tied me to the bed, and forced a ball gag into my mouth. And then he’d pull out the mini-stallion machine and the vibrator and torture me for hours and hours and I’d struggle and try to scream and cum and cum and cum until I was nothing but a helpless, sweating bundle of nerves.

And then he’d release me and I’d beg him not to stop, to bind me again and torture me more.

This kept up for a week. I couldn’t think of anything but being tied down and fucked by the machine, helplessly performing. Sometimes there was one man, sometimes more, torturing me and laughing at my helpless predicament. I considered writing to the men who ran the site, volunteering for one of their “sessions” as they called them. The money wouldn’t be a problem – hell, I’d even pay them! But I kept coming back to the fact that a video of me naked and on display would then be on the internet for all to see.

I couldn’t allow that. My career would be ruined if anyone I worked with saw it.

Then I considered finding a professional Dom who would give me this fantasy. The problem there was, all professional Doms are female; besides, I couldn’t trust someone else not to take pictures or make a video of me. After all, I’d have no control. The fantasy was all about giving over control.

I gradually realized that if I wanted this fantasy I’d need to first give it to myself. Then it might go away; if not, I’d find some acceptable man who would agree to be my torturer. In effect I’d be offering myself as his slave.

This thought gave me goose bumps and made me shiver.

First I searched the internet. I found a place that sold the mini stallion and other “toys”. It was a little pricey – a little over a thousand bucks – but I had plenty of money saved. I sent off for it. They also had the vibrator used on the girls in the slave girl site, called a “magic wand”. I ordered that also.

I had a few days before the stallion and vib would arrive. I wanted the fantasy to be complete, as close as possible to what the girls on the slave girl site were forced to endure; I didn’t want to “experiment” with bits and pieces beforehand. Nevertheless, some experimentation would be necessary.

I visited a local porno shop. In addition to magazines and videos they had a good line of vibrators and other sex toys. I found leather wrist and ankle cuffs lined with soft fur like material on the inside and leather thigh straps and the ball gag there. They were more expensive than I’d imagined; I bought them anyway.

Next I made a trip to the local hardware store where I bought some soft nylon rope and the pulls like the ones I’d seen in the video. I also bought some clips to attach to the ropes.

That night at home I tried everything out. My bed is a light oak king sized four posted canopy bed; just right for what I had planned. I put the cuffs and thigh straps on; after some experimentation I found I could tie the free end of each rope to the side or post of the bed, then attach them to the ankle and thigh bands. I could pull the free end of the rope; it would tighten then the rope pull would hold it securely in place. I soon had my legs and thighs spread obscenely wide, the bonds secure.

The next problem was how to bind my arms. I considered attaching one wrist to the top post of the bed, then leaving the other free. This would work but the idea was to be helpless. One arm free didn’t sound helpless; however, I needed to be able to free myself.

Finally I hit on an idea. I made another trip to the hardware store. This time I bought an eyebolt with a wood screw end, a long metal turnbuckle like those used to attach clothesline, and two small brass padlocks. I found a wall stud behind the headboard, made a hole, and screwed the eyebolt in it, using a screwdriver through the eyebolt hole for leverage. When I had it screwed down I pulled; it was solid as a rock.

There’d be no escaping if I were locked to the eyebolt.

Next I took the turnbuckle, locked one end to the eyebolt with one of the brass locks. I then hooked the wrist cuffs together by their snap rings and attached the other end of the turnbuckle to the rings with the other brass lock. I didn’t have the cuffs on at the time; I wanted to make sure I could get out of the restraints but not too easily.

As I’d surmised, I could turn the turnbuckle with it attached to the eyebolt and wrist restraints, slowly expanding it. I’d bought a rather large turnbuckle; I counted how many turns it took before it unscrewed completely and fell apart.

Sixty three turns.

Next I unlocked the padlock holding the cuffs to the turnbuckle, and then screwed it all the way back together. Heart pounding, I placed the key to the lock on the night stand, strapped the cuffs to my wrists, and lay back. I held the padlock with my fingers. With a bit of squirming I was able to line the turnbuckle up with the ring on the wrist cuffs. I fed the lock hasp through the ring and turnbuckle but didn’t lock it.

I could barely touch the turnbuckle with my fingers. Lying back I found I could turn the turnbuckle only a half turn with my the fingers on my right hand, then I’d have to switch to my left hand. I had to stretch; I couldn’t get the fingers from both hands on it at the same time.

I was able to slowly work the turnbuckle open. My fingers cramping, I finally had it unscrewed all the way; it fell apart and my hands were freed. I looked over at the clock: Ten minutes since I’d started. I reasoned that I could probably improve on that time with practice but in any case it would take me at least five minutes to release myself. I could then get the key from the night stand and unlock the padlock, remove the wrist cuffs, and sit up.

The next problem was how to turn the stallion and vibrator on. In my fantasy I was helpless like the girls on the slave girl site when they were activated, a half hour apart. I bought a couple of power strips, the kind with switches. Again some experimentation: I could plug both into an outlet behind the bed then lay them on the mattress near the top, where I could reach them with my bound hands.

I tried this using a couple of lamps plugged into the strips. I bound my hands, again using the turnbuckle and unsnapped lock. If I was careful I could turn the strips on one at a time, and then push each off the mattress. They’d fall to the floor behind the bed where I couldn’t reach them if my hands were bound.

I finally worked up the nerve to do a “dry run”. I arranged a Saturday lunch and shopping date with a girlfriend; we agreed she’d pick me up at my house at noon.

That morning I showered and brushed my teeth, then had my usual yogurt cup breakfast, then puttered around for a bit. Finally tired of stalling I wrote, “Door open, come on in” on a post-it note and stuck it to the outside of my front door. I made certain the door was unlocked.

Heart pounding I took my robe off. Dressed only in bra and panties I removed my new toys from the nightstand drawer and began to set everything up.

I attached the ropes for the thigh and ankle cuffs to the sides of the bed. I’d finally given in and drilled small holes in the wooden rail around the bottom of the bed just for this. The holes weren’t noticeable; they were normally covered by the sham anyway. I carefully threaded the rope ends through the holes and tied them, leaving the free ends on the bed. Pushing the draws with my thumb I let the ropes out to their full length one at a time.

Next I rigged up the lamps and the power strips, placing the strips at the head of the bed on the mattress where I could reach them. I strapped the thigh, ankle, and wrist cuffs to myself. Checked the turnbuckle; it was fully compressed, one end still locked to the eyebolt behind the headboard.

I clipped the ankle and thigh ropes in place. I drew the thigh ropes first, hard – as hard as I could, pulling my legs obscenely wide apart. I repeated with the ankle cuffs. A bit of wriggling to test it – yep, I could move about an inch in any direction, no more.

I then hooked my wrist cuffs together. Checking the nightstand I retrieved the brass padlock, unlocked it, and laid the key on the nightstand. I grabbed the ball gag from the nightstand, opened my mouth wide, put it in, and placed the retaining strap behind my head. I lay back quickly, lined the ring on the wrist cuffs with the turnbuckle ring, and then threaded the padlock through it.

Only one step left. My heart was pounding so hard now I imagined it was raising me off the mattress! If I couldn’t free myself I reasoned my girlfriend would be here in an hour and a half; she’d see the note on the door, come in, and find me bound and gagged. She could then release me using the key on the nightstand. I’d have some explaining to do – I’d already decided to confess to her if I had to, tell her about my fantasy.

But hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary.

I fingered the lock for a minute; its cold metal felt hard, unyielding. I took a deep breath, then closed the hasp. It snapped in place; the loud “click” seemed to seal my fate.

First some exploration: lets see if I can get loose without unscrewing the turnbuckle. I glanced over at the clock: 11:05 AM. Less than an hour before Beth would be here. Should be time enough. I flipped the switches on the power strips; both lights came on. I slid them off the mattress onto the floor. Sure enough I couldn’t reach them.

I pulled and wriggled and strained with all my might against the restraints, trying to pull free. I was pleased to see that after ten minutes of intense struggling I had accomplished exactly nothing. I’d not even loosened anything; all I had for my efforts was a sheen of sweat covering my body.

I’m gonna need another shower after this, I thought.

I lay back for a couple of minutes, catching my breath. Again I glanced at the clock: it read 11:20.

I thought about the note on the door. I wondered what I’d do if a deliveryman or neighbor came to the door, saw the note, came in and found me. I imagine he’d laugh at my predicament, then enjoy himself for some time with me, taking me as I lay helpless, spread on the bed. I’d have no choice, would be unable to even protest as the ball gag would muffle my protests.

I felt a familiar heat as this fantasy crossed my mind. I felt myself getting excited, sensed my pussy was opening, juices beginning to flow, preparing itself for easy access. Preparing myself for one man or twenty men, one after the other, enjoying me. Looking down I saw my nipples, hard in anticipation and arousal, like little pink pencil erasers presenting themselves to be sucked and rubbed.

I managed to raise my head off the mattress. I saw my reflection in the dresser mirror, spread wide, bound, gagged.


I was excited beyond belief! I knew the slightest stimulation, the lightest friction on my swollen clit peeking out from its hood would send me right over the edge, would give me a shattering, screaming, thrusting, bucking climax. I wriggled a bit but I’d bound myself too well! Not only was there no escape – I couldn’t even touch myself! I wanted to cum so badly but couldn’t!

I lay back helplessly, moaning my frustration into the ball gag.

Finally I began to unscrew the turnbuckle. It was harder than I’d thought since I was now on my back and had to stretch to touch the cold metal with my fingertips. Strain – a half turn – switch hands – strain – another half turn. Over and over. I tried to count the turns, but lost count somewhere around thirty.

A couple of times my hands cramped; I’d have to relax for a minute or two when that happened. It was slow, frustrating work. Stretch – a half turn – stretch. Over and over and over.

Finally I felt the turnbuckle give; my hands were suddenly freed. I reached over to the night stand, got the key, and unlocked the padlock. I pulled the ball gag off, undid the thigh and ankle straps, and sat up. Took a deep breath.

Looking down I noticed a wet spot on the sheet, almost a foot in diameter. I’d been excited all right!

Dry run complete. I put the things away, took a quick shower, did a quick makeup job, brushed my hair out, threw on panties, bra, slip, skirt, shirt, and shoes and was ready just as I heard the door open and saw Beth enter.

We had a fun time at lunch and shopping.

Now almost everything was ready. I made a trip by a music store the next day and bought an adjustable microphone stand. It had a heavy base and was sturdier than I’d imagined. It also had a special feature – the boom had a spring loading feature. The manager explained that this could be used to keep a microphone in constant contact with an instrument that moved around a bit.

I knew something that would be moving around that the spring would be just perfect for.

And so I waited. A few days later I returned home from work on a Friday evening to find a package on my porch. I brought it in and opened it; inside were the mini stallion and the “magic wand” vibrator. I spent the next hour reading the instructions for each.

I assembled the mini stallion first, installing a nine inch realistic looking soft plastic dildo shaped like a circumcised man’s cock. A really BIG man’s cock! I set the machine on the mattress at the foot of the bed. I knew some experimentation would be required in spite of my desire for this all the be a one time “surprise”. The stroke and rate would have to be adjusted.

I lubed myself and the dildo with some water based lube. I set the stroke clip for the shortest stroke, two inches. I slid down a bit, easing the dildo into myself. With the lube it slid in easily.

The controls for the stallion were on a ten foot cord. I turned the switch to slowest speed, a slow stroke that took almost ten seconds. The dildo slid into my pussy about two inches, then slowly began to withdraw. I let it run on slow speed for a while. The sensation was unfamiliar – I’d never had a man that large – but after a while not unpleasant.

I slowly increased the frequency until I had it on about half speed, ninety strokes a minute, in and out. It felt pretty good; this was about the speed that a man went when he was about to cum. A man wouldn’t last long at this speed.

The mini-stallion could last all night, however.

I flipped the control to off and mover the stroke clip to the next setting, a little over two inches. I continued to experiment until I found I was most comfortable with a stroke length of about three inches.

I set it for three and a half inches, washed everything, and put it away.

I then taped the magic wand to the microphone boom and experimented with that – not turning it on, though. I found the stand, even though weighted, moved around a bit when I wriggled. Some duct tape fixed that; I taped the stand to the side of the bed. Better! I could wriggle quite a bit and the spring on the boom kept the head of the vibrator in contact with my clit.

I was getting excited now. One more thing to buy, though. I put it all away and went to sleep.

The next day I stopped by the hardware store again. I bought a metal stand, the type a handyman would use for a small workbench and a couple of wood clamps. I’d found the mini stallion to be a bit too long to rest on the bed without support. I planned to clamp it to the metal stand then clamp the stand to the foot board of the bed. It would be secure in that position.

The next day, Saturday, I rose as usual and had my breakfast. I watched TV for an hour, slowly sipping coffee.

I then took a hot shower then a long, slow bubble bath. I shaved my pits and legs. Toweled myself dry, rubbed lotion into my skin. I flossed and brushed my teeth. Painted my fingernails and toenails bright red. I sat down in front of my mirror and carefully put on makeup, foundation and eyeliner and mascara and lipstick.

I dressed as though I was going on a date. That’s what I thought of this as – a date with myself! I put on sexy lingerie, garter belt, and stockings. Short slip, cami. Sandals with four inch heels. A tight skirt and white silk blouse. I looked at myself in the mirror: Not bad, I thought. I’d fuck me!

I then carefully removed my toys from the nightstand. Slowly and carefully I set everything up – the ropes, the metal stand at the bottom of the bed, the mini stallion clamped to it. The mic boom and vibrator. The controls of the fucking machine were at the end of a cord, which would allow me to start it slowly then increase the stroke frequency, although the length wouldn’t be adjustable while I was restrained.

I switched the power strip off and plugged the vib into it. I laid it carefully at the head of the mattress next to the stallion control pod. I plugged the stallion power cord in to a wall plug.

My heart was about to jump out of my chest! With shaking hands I carefully fastened the wrist, ankle, and thigh straps, checked the turnbuckle. I spread the lube on the dildo and myself, then eased down onto it, guiding the dildo into my pussy, about four inches. I hooked up and tightened the ropes. The dildo stretched me a bit but the lube would allow it to slide right in.

I hoped.

Shivering violently now although it wasn’t cold I moved the mic boom into place, tightening the clamp on the stand. There was just a slight pressure on my mound as the cool mushroom head of the vibrator contacted it. I wriggled a bit; it stayed in place. There’d be no escaping once it was turned on.

I lay back, stretched my hands up over my head, lined the turnbuckle up with the wrist ring, slid the lock into place. I hesitated a minute – there was a finality to what I was about to do. Nevertheless I wanted it – wanted it more than I thought possible! I snapped the lock closed.

I wriggled aggressively, testing my bonds. Yep, everything tight; no escaping unless I managed to unscrew the turnbuckle.

Sixty three turns. A long way.

I lay still for a moment, torturing myself with the anticipation. I’d set the mini-stallion stroke length to three and a half inches, just slightly more than was comfortable for me. This was part of the fantasy, where I would push myself just a bit past the limit of what was comfortable.

As a man would do, I thought.

I lay there for ten minutes, twenty, feeling my heart pound. The huge dildo quickly warmed; it filled me, stretching me although it was only about four inches inside my pussy. It was quite realistic; it even had soft plastic balls.

I took a deep breath then slowly rotated the dial on the stallion control pod. Straining, I raised my head off the mattress. I could see myself in the dresser mirror, obscenely spread. I could see just a bit past the machine, could see the dildo in my pussy. I could see the remaining five inches, most of which would soon be inside me. It looked too large – I wondered how I was going to take that huge thing inside me.

I saw the wheel of the stallion begin to turn slowly. The rod moved; I saw and felt the dildo intruding me, stretching me. I lay back, squeezed my eyes shut as I felt the huge artificial cock take me, invade my inner depths. I automatically strained to spread my legs wider, offering minimal resistance to the plastic invaider.

The dildo continued to slowly enter me. It didn’t hurt exactly, but I was being stretched as I’d never been stretched before. I moaned, a low sound that the ball gag mostly muffled, “UHHHHHHH…OHHHHH…UHHHGGGHHH”

Still the dildo advanced! It was now definitely uncomfortable, bumping my cervix, pushing, expanding. I thrashed around, throwing my head from side to side but it was no use. I’d restrained myself too well; there was no escape.

I thought about the turnbuckle. I stretched; my fingers touched the cool metal. I was being split, I couldn’t take any more! I screamed into the ball gag but the only sound that escaped was a plaintive, “OOOOOHHHH….UHHHHHH”.

Then finally, gratefully the wheel completed its turn; the dildo slowly slid back, thankfully withdrawing. My muscles automatically tensed around it, squeezing it hard much as I’d squeeze a man’s dick as he withdrew it. I realized I’d been holding my breath. I released it, panting as the stallion reached the outer limit of its stroke.

Then the wheel continued its slow turn, and I was again invaded, taken by the huge artificial cock. My muscles automatically relaxed, legs spread a bit, seeking to offer no resistance to the huge cock. Again it went in just a bit too far; again I moaned and screamed into the ball gag; again it withdrew. I squeezed as hard as I could as it withdrew, shaking from the effort.

This continued for a few minutes. I began to imagine a man was connected to the huge dick; he was fucking me, making me take every inch of his huge member. It began to feel not exactly nice, but I felt myself slowly surrendering to the feeling, as I’d surrender to a male. My inner muscles continued to tighten and loosen automatically, milking the dildo as I’d milk a man.

A man wouldn’t be able to take much of that; I knew I’d soon feel him go stiff, feel his seed enter my inner depths, spurting. But the mini stallion had no such weakness; it would continue fucking my poor cunt until the electric company shut off the power.

Sighing finally, I slowly rotated the frequency control wheel. The strokes came a little quicker now. I imagined the man was driving toward his climax; that he’d soon fill me with his cum. I imagined how wonderful it would feel when he came deep inside me. I heard myself moaning into the gag in time with the strokes, moaning every time it entered me, “uhhhhhh…..uhhhhhh…..uhhhhh”

A few more minutes passed. I’d gradually worked the speed control to about half speed, ninety strokes a minute. I was being pounded, fucked, and filled to capacity and then some. My muscles continued to automatically squeeze the soft plastic as it withdrew, relaxing as it entered me. My thighs were shaking; I was moaning loudly into the gag.

My mind was wandering, incoherent. I could barely remember where I was! Straining mightily I managed to remember to push the stallion control to the floor where it was out of reach.

There’d be no escape now, unless I managed to unscrew the turnbuckle! I lay back and allowed the machine to fuck me, pounding me relentlessly. I moaned and thrashed about, straining helplessly against my restraints. Sweat poured off me as the machine relentlessly assaulted me.

I couldn’t quite climax! It now felt wonderful, but I needed just a bit of clitoral stimulation to go over the edge. I fingered the power strip switch. I knew if I turned it on the powerful vibrator would push me over the edge in a few seconds, but I wanted to torture myself for a bit first. I denied myself relief as I imagined a man would. He’d be watching, laughing at my predicament.

The thought almost made me cum.

Finally I couldn’t stand it! I flipped the power strip switch, at the same time pushing it off the bed. In the back of my mind I heard it hit the floor with a thunk, but then the vibrator was on, pulsing, throwing my clit back and forth.

It was far more powerful than any vibrator I’d ever tried! I came almost immediately, squirming, thrashing, my muscles tensing and relaxing around the cock that was relentlessly fucking me. I screamed in pleasure into the ball gag, glad now I’d used it – otherwise my screams would certainly have caused the neighbors to call the police!

Then finally my climax was over and I lay back, panting and sweating. I wanted to relax for a minute, but the vibrator continued to stimulate me, continued to relentlessly throw my clit around. I moaned and screamed, pulled against my bonds, tried to do anything to make it stop, make it stop! The stimulation was painful beyond belief; I couldn’t make it stop!

But there was no escape! It was so uncomfortable, I couldn’t stand it! My mind ran around and around; I stretched my hands to the turnbuckle, trying to unscrew it, but I was shaking so hard I couldn’t turn the metal.

I was trapped! I continued to struggle but the restraints held tight.

Then after a minute or two the sensations of overstimulation subsided somewhat, then I felt my clit responding to the vibrations, and I was again moaning, squirming, now not trying to make it stop but to make it continue, and suddenly wham! I felt myself go over the edge again, felt my muscles tense, raising my ass of the bed, presenting myself spread fully, open, ready, begging to be fucked.

God, I was such a tramp! I thought.

And so it continued, on and on and on. The machines wouldn’t stop; there was no relief from my self inflicted torture. I screamed and thrashed about, sweat pouring off me to mingle with my juices on the sheet. I tried to unscrew the turnbuckle; my shaking hands could only manage a turn or two at a time before I was relentlessly driven to yet another climax by the vibrator and stallion.

I felt myself squirting fluids around the huge dildo. That had happened to me once or twice in the past when a man would hit just the right spot; it was pretty embarrassing! Now I didn’t mind. The extra fluids helped lubricate the massive artificial dick; it wasn’t at all uncomfortable now. I had been stretched enough to allow easy entry.

I raised my head off the bed, looked at my reflection in the dresser mirror. My hair hung in strings, partially plastered to my head. There was a huge wet spot on the sheets. I had a plaintive expression on my face, an expression of straining effort and frustration.

Just like the girl in the picture I’d been sent. My sister slave, I thought.

And now I understood. If a man were there subjecting me to this torture I would be past the point of rational thought. I would willingly, eagerly agree to whatever perverted act he wanted me to perform, would cook his food and wash his clothes and serve him in any way he desired.

I would be his slave girl. I would gladly lick the ground he walked on if only he’d torture me like this every day.

Finally I managed to look at the clock. Four hours had passed! I was covered with sweat; the bed was soaked. I’d quit screaming, accepting my fate. I now only panted and moaned a bit from time to time.

I’d managed to work the turnbuckle nearly off. I concentrated, a mighty effort, and forced myself to turn it again…then again…and suddenly my hands were free.

I pushed the vibrator off my clit, and then lay back, panting. The stallion continued to fuck me; I let it continue as I slowly regained control. Finally I was able to grab the padlock key; with shaking hands I unlocked the padlock, released the ropes, moved off the dildo. Reached down, shut both the vib and dildo off. Then passed out, exhausted, completely sated, and fell asleep on the sopping wet bed.

That was a week ago. I haven’t repeated the play session, although I’ve used the mini stallion and vibrator a couple of times. They’re fun to play with even if I’m not restrained.

I learned a lot about myself. I know why my relationships haven’t worked out. I’ve been looking for a strong man, strong and secure enough hold my struggling ass down, to tie me to the bed, force a ball gag into my mouth, and torture me with a mini stallion and vibrator for four hours.

Now all I have to do is find him. My heart flutters as I think of being ‘broken’, being made his slave girl.

I can hardly wait!

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ปั้มไลค์ wrote

Like!! Thank you for publishing this awesome article.