1. The Meeting


    Date: 7/10/2015, Categories: Anal, BDSM, Hardcore, Author: amabarrettsub, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    pumped, which will stretch them, painfully. It’s really her choice.” That wasn’t a choice at all. You knew when you devised that little game that the psychological distress of making that kind of decision would drive me a little mad. How was I supposed to choose between two differing tortures? You were patient as I recall, waiting me out. I would have to decide eventually, or safeword. There weren’t any other options and I knew instinctively that, if I tapped out, I wouldn’t have the chance to explore the wax. It was forgo a major fantasy of mine, or endure a little more, for you. “Pumping, Sir.” My voice was barely above a whisper, anticipating the next bout of pain. Surely the suction wouldn’t be as painful as clips. Right? “Oh, has slut made a decision then? Is she sure?” I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat. “Yes, Sir.” “Beg.” Your voice had gone hard again, ruthless. It sent more shivers of thrill through me, despite my impending agony. This was what I wanted most, the f***ed submission and humiliation. This is what I craved. “Sir, please pump my nipples?” “Are you sure, slut?” “Yes Sir, please. Please pump my nipples.” “I’m not sure slut is serious about it.” “Please? Sir please pump my nipples! Please!” I made my voice pleading, begging for my own agony, mentally squirming at the degradation I felt. What kind of a person begs to be tortured? I did, apparently. You seemed satisfied that time, so I must have put enough stress in my voice. I listened to your ...
    movements as you prepared the cylinders, then felt the first one settle over my engorged, throbbing nipple. I could feel the slight vibration in the hard plastic as your hand pumped the bulb, creating suction, drawing agonized flesh into the rigid tube. Three. Four. Five. Finally you ceased, removing the pump and leaving the short, fat tube behind. I risked a glance and saw my nipple—deep red and throbbing excruciatingly—stretched. As I gazed in fascination and pain I became aware of a gradual stinging. As you began pumping the other nipple I realized the fiery sensation was growing stronger. Something was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to burn! “Sir!” I squeaked, panicked and agonized. “Sir it’s burning! Please take it off please!” “Oh, does slut like my addition? I thought hot sauce would heat things up nicely for you.” I did groan that time, resting my head back against the chair again, struggling to ignore the increased scorching sensations coursing through each nipple. It was excruciating, worse than the cropping had been. My hands clutched and opened reflexively, my ankles turning, my muscles fidgeting involuntarily. All my attention was focused on two hotspots. I felt you move again more than I saw it, tears pouring freely. I wasn’t sure I could handle this, seriously considered safewording. When you reached the open space between my legs I tensed again, trying in vain to prepare for the next onslaught. How much more pain could I stand? When was this going to start being ...
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