Wheels Go Round and Round

 

Good morning, cannot express how lucky mouse is to be kept indoors today, chained to the oven. At least in a figurative way, as she's baking sweets for our Chanukah celebration with some close friends and family. Outside it's just yucky out, cold, damp and dark. This is the perfect activity since it will keep mouse awake, otherwise she'd certainly be napping at some point. It should be mentioned this might be the last post of the year or at least until after Christmas -- since Chanukah ends right before Christmas eve and we've got lots of things going on. We hope everyone has a happy holiday.

Daddy has always said if mouse is going to insist on placing candles in our bedroom, they might be used for something other than illumination. The other night he tied mouse, bound her arms behind her back and then made her lay on them, her legs parted wide, at his insistence. He dripped hot wax on her tender bits and that was exciting and stingy.

Then he vanished for a moment. Daddy returned helping mouse up, repositioning her arms, so they were pulled out to match her legs. Spread eagle, which always makes mouse feel very embarrassed. The room was so brightly lit and every flaw exposed, pulled taut for his amusement or deviant pleasure.

He whispered in that breathy tone, he wouldn't blindfold mouse or gag her, but she would have to keep still. Yes, the response was to tug at the restraints. He flicked a nipple. Not too hard, but mouse took as a warning to keep still. Then he pulled something out of pocket, he just touched her inner thigh, and she began to really pull against the restraints. Panic had filled her. Anxiety just went through the roof. While mouse tolerates well and thoroughly enjoys the kinky stuff we frequently do, the Wartenberg Wheel just freaks mouse out. It makes her skin crawl. Loathe isn't strong enough to describe how that meat tenderizer wheel from hell makes her feel.

He raked it slowly along her inner thigh, moving it up slowly toward her most tender of tender spots. If we used a safe word, mouse would have said it when she saw it. The sobs did nothing to stop or cease his activity ("Give me your tears slave") and his words just pissed her off.

Tugging against restraints, fighting the experience, fighting him. If she could get a leg free she would have kicked him in the face. Still he wouldn't stop. slowly up and down, never hitting the same spot it seemed to mouse, twice. Tears flooding her eyes, feeling the quiet pull, and then he moved it to her breasts, then back down, teasing every part of her body.

When he tugged on her nipple ring and touched her soft spot he pronounced she was drenched. Once again her body betrays her, the inner slut screams for more despite the mind's sound protests. The tugging stopped and the mind just settled and eventually floated in spite of herself. It wasn't a subspace float where she's quiet and unaware, this was quite different. In that moment, mouse had given up and just submitted focusing on each second clicking forward. Her tears, quiet chokes of capitulation. Surrendering fully to him. So lost in those seconds, she hadn't noticed him freeing her legs from the restraints, until she felt the soft, almost electic caress of his sex against her tenderized flesh.

The moment of hate is replaced with a stunning sensation, her whole body rises to meet him, silently begging to be fucked. Wrapping her legs around him willing him to enter her. "Beg for it slave." and like that, before she can think she's begging, pleading, cajoling him for his cock. Anything to stop the torture of the gentle rubbing of that area that feels electrified.

Eventually he obliges mouse, entering her quickly and pounding her, his weight pressing and holding her fast with her arms still outstretched unable to hold him and frustrated by the rope's tug. Again capitulation occurs and mouse surrenders to him. So alert is her body she can feel his juices spilled as he orgasms. Ringing in her ears is the raspy sound of his voice forbidding mouse to orgasm.

In his mouth he captures a nipple, with his teeth he tugs shamelessly at the ring, and she's unable to form words, like 'stop that' or 'ouch'. Then she feels the blasted wheel, and forgets herself as it inches slowly again toward her exposed raw and inflamed clit. The sensations overwhelm her, tears again fall but he asked for them.

"Give me your tears slave." his voice, commands her and her body just obeys. Arms pull against the restraints as he finally commands her to orgasm. Trembling, quivering, a molten mix of something breaks free and her body releases for him. At last he releases her arms and gathers her up, he brushes her hair with his large hands and plants kisses on her face.

His voice sings to her a quiet song of bliss, surrender and love, he loves her suffering, just as much as loves her tears of anger and frustration. Yet now, the only tears falling are the quiet blissful murmurs, the gentle fire he carefully built smolders until his touch later reignites the flame.

Searching with her mouth she finds him, feels his hardness pressing against her throat, his hands grabbing a fist full of hair, commanding her to suck. Forcing her down his length, into her throat shocking her for a moment into gagging and gasping for breath. He releases only to plunge her again to the murky depth of him. The action repeats as he relents, causing her to retreat, only to her press down again further. Fingers claw at the bedding, but she knows to never touch him. This is his time to use her mouth. Fresh tears well filling him with pleasure as they drip against his skin. All she feels is the weight of his hands controlling her movements, her speed and the tension builds until he pushes her head far down, breathing cut off and she feels his salty seed stream down the back of her throat.

His large hands pull her head off as she gasps for breath, and he strokes her hair. It pleased him,

"Give me your tears."

Convulsing softly beside him, snaking around, holding onto him with all she has, her body quakes again at the sound of his voice, trembles as she orgasm without so much as a touch from him.

Finally stilled by the power of her own surrender, she finds him stroking tenderly her cheek, whispering that she should sleep now. Feeling the pilow under her head, almost dutifully with her quiet, empty head, she submits again, but this time to sleep.