Soon after we got to my house Alex had me strip then grabbed
her bag of toys and led me down to the basement where we had
stored my famous torture stool. Once there she put leather cuffs
on my wrists and fastened them behind my back. She dragged the
stool out to the center of the basement play area and sat me in
it. Then she took two lengths of rope and attached them to screw
eyes about 7′ off the floor on the walls on either side of the
stool I was sitting in. The other ends of the ropes had snap
hooks which she attached to the cuffs on my wrists after releas-
ing them from behind my back. As she tightened the ropes, draw-
ing my arms up and out, I began to get the idea, she wanted to be
able to get to the areas under my arms and along the sides of my
chest. She seemed proud of her little innovation and I knew I
was in trouble. Using two more lengths of rope, she bound my
ankles back along the sides of the stool as high as she could.
It was hard to keep from swaying forward but she soon had a fix
for that. She put a 3″ wide leather strap across my back below
my shoulder blades, ran it under my arms, over my shoulders and
buckled it behind my head. Standing on the rungs of the stool,
she attached a length of rope to an overhead screw eye and then
tied the other end to the D ring on the strap across my back.
She attached another piece of rope to the D-ring but just let it
hang behind me. Now I was curious, I was certain she was going
to attach it to the back of the stool to hold me down as I had
done with her.

My repeated questions earned me a piece of tape over my
mouth. Now that I was quite helpless to change the course of the
evening she promised me that my ordeal would be something that I
wouldn’t soon forget. She slowly removed her clothes while
fondling my body and stroking my pussy. When she was completely
naked, and had driven me to the brink of orgasm, she picked up my
10″ dildo and pulled a directors chair over in front of me and
sat in it. She told me that if I squirmed around and brought
myself to orgasm that my next orgasm would be with her working on
my breasts with a riding crop. Sliding down into the chair, she
put her legs up over the arm rests presenting me with a good view
of her pussy. While I watched she slowly worked the dildo into
her pussy and began fucking herself with it while fingering her
clit. As she worked on herself she went into vivid detail about
what it was going to be like to be tickle tortured in my current
position. I was beginning to wonder how good an idea it was to
let her tie me this way, my earlier excitement was giving way to
a feeling of apprehension. It wasn’t long before she had brought
herself to orgasm. When she had calmed down she got out of the
chair, picked up a small wooden dowel and came over to me holding
up the moist dildo and telling me that it was now my turn. She
reached under the stool and I felt the dildo slid up under me
until the tip was touching my pussy lips. Using two fingers to
part my pussy lips, she worked the dildo into me until I thought
it wouldn’t go any further then she pushed it a little deeper.
Taking the dowel, she pinned the dildo into place on the under-
side of the stool. I now knew what she had felt like when I had
put her into this position, every move I made caused my muscles
to grip the dildo that was impaling me. She laughed at the
expression on my face and told me that that was just a start.

From her bag of toys she removed a gag with a 6″ dildo on it,
the gag was designed to go in the mouth and leave the dildo free
to be used for fucking. At first I couldn’t see why she would
use a gag like that on me since I was in no position to use the
dildo on her. Then out came the tube of KY and as she began
greasing the dildo my stomach dropped out. She was going to put
it in my ass! I knew it was useless but I screamed and struggled
anyway. She seemed to love my reaction and with a wicked grin
she moved around behind me carrying the greased dildo. I tried
to rock my weight back so she couldn’t get to my asshole but she
put her weight into me and forced me to lean forward then I felt
the cold tip of the dildo enter my ass. I knew from experience
that fighting it would only make it hurt more so I stopped my
struggling and relaxed and let her slid the dildo into my ass.
When she had it completely in me she used a leather thong to tie
the gag to the top of the stool. She then tied the rope hanging
from the D ring to the back leg of the stool while explaining to
me that she was leaving plenty of slack so I would get the full
effect of both dildos moving in and out of me when I raised up
off the stool. I was now completely stuffed, I could feel the
two dildos rubbing against each other within my body. My feeling
of dread was rapidly increasing, I could still vividly remember
Alex bouncing around on the dildo while I tickled her. She stood
in front of me now and admired her work then she told me she
wanted me to know what it was going to be like when I struggled
and reached forward and tickled my ribs. I had never been fucked
in my ass and pussy at the same time before and the feeling of
both dildos moving in and out of me as I jumped was like nothing
I imagined. She said I should see the look on my face when I
moved then she produced a long feather and placed it in the
directors chair in front of me. She peeled the tape off my
mouth, stepped up on a rung on the stool and kissed me then
pointed to the feather and said “Think about it lover”. I was
already begging as she left the basement.

She gave me a while to think about what was going to happen
as I had done with her. The time alone was quite effective, it
gave me an opportunity to see just how helpless I was and to
think about all the things she could do to me in this position.
I tried to work my wrists out of the cuffs but she had been
careful to tighten them correctly and every move I made reminded
me of the dildos that were in me. When she returned she told me
she wasn’t going to gag me yet. She wanted to hear me scream the
way she had screamed and when I got too loud she would use the
same technique I did with the inflatable gag. Then she remarked
that I seemed to be sweating a little, was I nervous? Using the
long feather she started at the insides of my knees and, despite
my pleading, quickly worked her way up my inner thighs. By the
time she had reached my stomach my eyes were watering so much I
couldn’t see, I was laughing hysterically and bouncing around on
the dildos that impaled me. Before she could get to my ribs I
had my first orgasm and thought I was going to pass out. At this
point she stopped and got out the inflatable gag. She made a
show of making sure it was fully deflated while reminding me that
I had tortured her through six orgasms and that I still had 5 to
go. I refused to let her put the gag in my mouth and tried to
bargain with her, if she would remove the dildo from my ass I’d
let her gag me. This didn’t work very well, she stepped around
behind me and, grabbing a handful of hair, pulled my head back
until she could force the gag in. After strapping the gag on she
changed to a short stiff feather and started in on my ribs. I
had completely lost any sense of time, all I was aware of was the
feather traveling over my ribs and up into my arm pits, the
dildos moving in and out of me, the sweat running down my body
and my screams. After pumping up the gag a little she got a good
laugh out of the way I rode the dildos while she tickled my ass
cheeks and the crack of my ass. Finally she changed to a small
paint brush, one of the most devious tickle torture implements we
had come up with. She pumped the gag up to fully fill my mouth
and let me know that she hadn’t forgot about my feet and toes.
When she started on my feet I thought I would die, I couldn’t
think straight, I couldn’t scream through the gag and I couldn’t
control the spasms running through my body. My eyes were so
teared that I couldn’t see, my awareness was limited to the brush
traveling over my feet, the dildos moving inside me, the uncon-
trollable spasms running through me, sweat running off my body
and blurs of color in front of my eyes.

The torture seemed to go on forever, when she stopped again I
wasn’t sure how many orgasms I had had but I knew I had had
several violent ones. When my eyes cleared she was standing in
front of me watching me. She ran her hands over my sweaty body
and told me that she had one other torment in mind for me and
that my fighting her attempts to gag me had convinced her that
she should use it. She untied the small dildo from the stool and
removed it from my ass then she unpinned the larger one and slid
it out of me. I was getting quite sore and I was glad to have
the dildos removed but I was afraid of what she might have in
mind for me. Alex has her sadistic spells as I have my masochis-
tic ones and I was certain she was planning to cause me some
pain. Out of her bag of toys she produced a Japanese sewing
clamp to which she attached a short leather thong then she at-
tached a spring and a large weight to the other end of the thong.
She held the clamp with its attachments up in front of my eyes
and asked me if I remembered how she had used this on me before.
Nodding “yes”, I closed my eyes and waited for what I knew was
next. When I felt her fingers expose my swollen clit I couldn’t
help but remember the time she had tied me standing spread eagle
and attached a clamp with a weighted spring to my clit then
whipped me. She was very gentle when she closed the clamp on my
clit and positioned the thong so that the weight and spring hung
off the edge of the stool. But I knew that when I started to
struggle again the bouncing weight would take its toll on my
clit. I knew she was going to whip me but I wasn’t prepared for
the doubled up piece of neoprene tubing that she produced from
her bag. It had been a while since she had really inflicted
heavy pain on me, this was going to be one of those times.

Though I knew what to expect from a whipping, I wasn’t ready
for the pain the tubing could inflict. When the first lash
landed across the exposed part of my ass I think I screamed
louder than ever before. Everytime I jerked from a lash of the
whip, my clit would be mercilessly tugged by the bouncing weight
and spring. She delivered a total of ten lashes across my ass
while telling me how much my struggles and muffled screams excit-
ed her. When she stepped around in front of me I could see that
she was working on her clit with her left hand and I knew she
would work me over until she came. She brushed my left breast
with the tubing and smiled as I frantically shook my head “no”.
When the first lash landed on my breast it triggered one of the
most violent orgasms I think I’ve ever had. I don’t remember
struggling very much while she continued whipping my breasts, I
just remember the sound of the whip, the pain in my breasts and
my screaming. She had delivered eight slow lashes, five to my
left breast and three to my right, before she brought herself to
orgasm and collapsed into the chair in front of me. I think the
weighted clamp on my clit was wasted at this point, I hardly
noticed its tugging during the whipping, all my senses were
centered on the impact of the tubing with my breasts. Having
your breasts whipped with a small diameter plastic tube is some-
thing a woman will not easily forget, hardly any marks are left
but the pain is tremendous.

When Alex had recovered, she removed the clamp from my clit,
the gag from my mouth and took me down off the stool. I was so
weak and sore I could hardly walk. She helped me up the stairs
and put me into a hot bath while she cleaned up downstairs and
took a shower in the other bathroom. When she returned she
dragged me out of the bath, helped me dry off then took me to
bed. That was several days ago and I’m still sore from the
ordeal she put me through. As I said before, I’m not much into
inflicting pain on Alex but I’m considering giving her a taste of
her own medicine. I’m still looking for a few good ideas but now
I’m willing to consider things that are a little more sadistic
than tickling although probably nothing too serious. Any good
ideas out there??

In my case it was even worse than average. I had come back to my hometown after graduating college; disappointing my parents who had expected me to move out and be a big success “away” somewhere. I explained that I’d come home to “give something back to the community”, but it was complete balderdash. What I was really doing was burying myself in my work, trying to avoid admitting something that no-one else knew.

In college I had become Mistress to a lithe blond tart named Jacqueline “Tennisball” Turner. In some way, we’d been very much in love. I’d revelled in every whipping or spanking I gave her. She gloried in the loving abuse I heaped on her. But eventually I’d convinced myself that this wasn’t what I wanted.

I was a “normal” woman, with normal desires. I wanted a husband and kids and. . . .And I wanted Tennie, or piggy, as I’d sometimes called her, crawling to lick a pair of black leather boots with four-inch heels that clung so tightly to my legs that my slave often had to yank them off me while I broke the suction with a shoehorn. I wanted her head bobbing vigorously between my thighs as the little electric shocks of pleasure shot from my clitoris. I wanted to hang her from the ceiling beam of my little house and beat her ass raw for breaking dishes, to set her impossible tasks and punish her for failing at them.

But I wanted other things too: the touch of her breath on my neck when I let her sleep in my bed; the soft look in her eyes when she knelt at the foot of that bed with my morning coffee; the contented hum of her when all the happy violence was over, the sweat and sometimes tears dried, and she cuddled into my arms during decompression.

And I wanted all of this while leading a June-Cleaver-with-a-career existence? It was too much, and I knew it. But while I sorted all this out I still had rent to pay, first to my parents, then to a landlord, and finally to a mortgage company. I found a job at a high school in town (not the Catholic school I’d attended, but a newer secular school called Park West Secondary).

On the first day of classes, I was way too early. Only the school custodian was in the hall as I entered the Old Building (the one built in 1976 was the New Building) and made my way to room 108 West. The classroom was empty, and I unlocked the door but left the light off. Instead I went to the door at the back of the class. In other days it would have been a storage space. The teacher I had replaced, one Mr. Carruthers, had been in the habit of smoking a pipe quietly in there while grading papers, and the room had that lovely “gentleman’s club” smell of old leather armchair, shoe polish, and pipe tobacco. It’s a smell I’ve always associated with luxury.

There was a little narrow window facing the soccer field, and long shelves of dusty textbooks along the wall with the door in. I put my necessary things into the desk and cupboards, my clipboard, a pack of marking pens, chalk (any teacher will tell you, you bring your own and hoard your supply), and my coffee mug.

My coffee mug.