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I’m not really sure what the most humiliating part of our visit, so far, had been.  Being paraded, half naked on a leash, through the inn, the crotch of my lavender panties visibly wet and smelling of overheated pussy, I would have said.  That was before she’d pushed an inert vibrating egg into my soaking wet cunt, trapping it inside with a chastity belt.  That was new.  I was familiar with the concept, but I’d never worn one before. 

“Just a reminder that I control your orgasms, pet.  You can ask, of course.  Or beg, if you prefer. Either way, you’ll have to earn them.”

It locked, of course, and of course, she had the only key.  It wasn’t too uncomfortable, thought it did feel strange to be locked into a contraption of steel and rubber that denied me access to the one thing that mattered most to me right now; my needy little cunt.

Things only got ‘worse’ from there. Her every word made things worse as she showed me around the room like a tour guide in an erotic museum, taking great delight in her job, pointing out the bondage points on the bed, as well as those on the wall.  Our room was as close to a dungeon as I could have imagined, and not in the traditional medieval sense.  It had been designed for someone like me.  Someone like her.  My Mistress.

She led me, still on my leash, to a padded bench with metal rings attached. It didn’t take a great deal of imagination to picture myself secured to it while she did as she pleased with me. She opened up all the cupboards and drawers, both of us curious as to their contents. Chains. Ropes. Cuffs. Various paddles and crops and floggers.  A bdsm candy shop for a girl with a sweet tooth for pain and bondage.

And then, there was the elephant in the room; the cage.  Polished steel bars. Just the sight of it left me breathless and pulled me deep into subspace. It had been, for a very long time, number one on the hit parade of bucket list fantasies for me.

“I’m going to need a moment to unpack and I’m going to need you to stay out of my way.”

She knew, of course that all it required was a word and I would sit, or stand, or kneel, quietly, and behave.  She also knew that it wasn’t what I wanted.  I think I knew it too.

What was the most humiliating part of our visit?  Was it me, naked save for the belt, a vibrating egg buried in my dripping wet cunt? Would it be being made to crawl into the steel cage and lift my arms above my head so that she could cuff my wrists to the overhead bars? Would it be the spreader bar she attached to my ankles forcing me to keep my thighs spread wide?  Would it be how she threaded the leash through the bars, pulling me against them so that my tits stuck out?  How hard and stiff my nipples were, making it so very easy for her to attach clover clamps to each, threading it around the bars so that any movement backwards on my part would tug painfully?

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Would it be how much I whimpered, despite myself as I was forced to kneel there, watching as she unpacked our bags, my face pressed between the bars as well?  Before she’d begun, she’d left the remote for the vibrating egg attached to the other end of my leash. If I could manage a way of pulling it closer… but of course, it was a task Herculean in nature….

Besides, I wanted to be her good girl more than anything else. More than I wanted to feel the egg come to life inside my dirty little cunt.  More than I wanted to feel the taste of the whip on my back or have her turn my tits and cunt red with the business end of her crop.  More than I wanted to come over and over and over, drowning in pleasure and lost in ecstasy.

The most humiliating part? Her perched on top of the cage, her pussy pressed between the bars as I knelt, my pierced tongue extended, waiting feverishly for her to feed me, whether it was a stray drop of her precious nectar as she played with herself or when she’d occasionally reach down and wipe her fingers on my quivering lips, allowing me to taste her as I licked them dry, unable to tear my gaze from her puffy lips and the wet pinkness they revealed.  Not that, no, nor that I begged her each taste, squirming below her, gasping each time I felt a little tug on of the clamps, the pain radiating through my tits like an electric shock.

Nor that, as she moved back, incrementally, I followed her, stretching the chains tighter, stretching my nipples until tears formed, welling up in my eyes.  Tears of pain, of frustration, and of desire. And yes, humiliation that I was reduced to her plaything, her pet, her nasty little fuck toy as she was delighting in calling me as I fought for each breath, my hips rolling, humping the air as she beckoned me to rise.

Pulling myself up as a struggle, but I somehow managed to press my face to the bars just below her and push my tongue up into her beautiful cunt, feeding on her, lapping at her sweet wetness, lapping at her taint, pressing the tip against her puckered hole as she leaned back, needing to taste her, shaking almost feverishly as I fought gravity to fuck both her holes, arms strained, thighs sore, nipples burning with agony until she climaxed, rewarding me with a flood of cum which I did my best to swallow greedily in between sobs of pain.

The most humiliating part of our visit?  That was yet to come. 

 

 

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Written by sprite
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