“Comfortable?”

I managed a muted whimper, unable to properly answer, my own soaked panties, ripe with the taste of my own juices and stuffed into my mouth made it impossible to form coherent words.

No. I wasn’t.  And it wasn’t just the physical discomfort, although that was a large part of it. Bent at the waist, my ankles shackled, my legs forcibly spread wide.  Wrists and neck trapped, making me immobile. My own fault, really.

“What excites you the most, pet?” She’d asked. 

I’d felt like a kid in a candy shop.  So many choices.  It was, quite literally, overwhelming.  Everything I’d imagine I’d find in a sex dungeon, and a few things I hadn’t. 

"Everything, Mistress?” I answered, unsure, eliciting an amused chuckle. Kissing the top of my head, her arms loosely confining me, she kept her silence as I surveyed the wealth of toys and devices, thinking that we’d never have time to try them all, my gaze returning to the black lacquered stocks. 

“Those?” I pointed shyly, shivering as her hand slid down my tummy and into the waistband of my already damp panties.

I wasn’t really ready for the reality.  It’s one thing to look at pictures, or even watch videos, but it doesn’t really prepare you for the feeling of being so exposed.  So vulnerable.  You don’t really consider that you can’t see what’s going on behind you. I could hear just fine though, and every sound was magnified by my imagination.  It was impossible not to recall the dozens of tools at my Mistress’s disposal.  Canes, crops, floggers, whips, clamps… the list was endless, really. 

I could hear her feet on the floor, her heels supernaturally loud as she moved about.  I could hear the rattle as she gathered, one by one, what I could only guess at.  Psychological torture seemed to be the theme of the hour and there was nothing I could do about, locked into the medieval pillory as I was.  Her choices, from what I could tell, ended up on a table that stood just out of my vision. I could hear them just fine though, as she set them carefully on the wooden surface, the sounds slowly masked by the pounding of my heart and my breaths, each one heavier and thicker than the last until I was practically panting, a mixture of fear and arousal driving them.

Occasionally she would pause, directly behind me, and caress my exposed ass with the tips of her nails.  Once, she ran her fingers up the insides of one thigh, tickling and teasing.

“You sweet little cunt is a dripping wet mess, slut.”

I let out a long moan.  She responded with a chuckle.

“Patience, girl. Just about ready.”

I was far beyond patience but helpless to do anything about it other than drool into my panties.

There was no warning. No ‘okay, we’re going to begin now, don’t worry, we’ll take it nice and slow, baby girl’. There was only the loud wet smack of leather on flesh causing my entire being to flinch.  Had I not been immobilized I would have jumped several feet, as much from surprise as the pain that blossomed suddenly between my legs.

I screamed into my panties.  Loudly.  Had this been at home I would have worried about what the neighbors might think.  Here, though, I’d been told no one would pay attention to my screams.  I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring or not.  I was about to find out.

“Paying attention now? Good.”

Her hand cupping my cunt felt nice, coupled with the pain of her single blow radiating through my flesh. I flexed my hips, attempting to rub myself against her palm, aroused by her simple gesture, her touch.  When she withdrew it I couldn’t keep myself from whimpering.

“Shush.” She followed her command with an almost playful slap against the back of my thigh, the contact stinging wonderfully. I heard her steps, followed by a soft metal jingle that I identified as chains.  Clamps, was my guess.  What kinds, though?  There’d been so many.  I did my best to picture them all.  Some comparatively benign.  Some looking incredibly painful.  If I was right, she’d have an easy time attaching them.  My nipples were so swollen and hard that they ached as if they might burst.

I knew I’d guessed right when I felt her fingers teasing my hard nub and then, the kiss of cold metal.  I screamed, jerking in my imprisonment, fighting to free myself like a panicked animal as fire erupted in my sensitive flesh. A distant part of me recalled her dangling a clamp from one fingertip, letting it swing back and forth hypnotically, when we’d taken a tour of the room earlier.  I recalled my reaction at the time – I’d literally trembled with lust at the thought of its teeth biting into me, the tightly coiled spring gripping, sharp teeth threatening to puncture my skin as I screamed in agony…

And scream I did, the sound muffled by my makeshift gag, struggling as I felt myself starting to slip deep into subspace, a place where unbearable pain would become pleasure.  I was only somewhat aware when she removed my panties from my mouth, drool cascading slowly past my lips, my aroused panting masking all other sounds.  For a brief moment, I actually considered using my safe word as I contemplated her attaching the other clamp.  And then, it was gone as I felt her fingers in my hair, petting and stroking tenderly, reassuringly wiping the drool from my lips and chin with my underwear.

“Too much?” I knew from experience that it would be the last time she asked. 

I shook my ecstasy muddled head, not trusting my voice, feeling the craving consume me, welcoming the thought of more.

“Good girl,” she commented, her voice thick with a lust that mirrored mine as a second clamp closed on my remaining nipple.