True Sex Stories: “Bring The Mirror Over Here”

The swirling, lightheaded thrill of pleasure mixing with pain becomes much more real when you can watch it happen.

"Bring the mirror over here," I say, "I want to see too." Mister props the full length mirror sideways against the dresser.

"That's so fucking hot," he says, "I like that you want to see yourself."  I'm on my stomach, my hands attached to my ankles by a series of thin metal cables and carabiners. My head and feet are lifted, I can't quite put either down. Mister fastens a leather collar around my neck and attaches that to the cable joining my hands. I test the limits, moving my head forward. The collar cuts into my neck, I choke a little and ease back.

Mister strokes my face, then slaps me hard. I hear him behind me, rifling through his bag of tricks. Something clatters, something else briskly snaps open and shut. I try to look in the mirror, but he's just out of view. "You've been a bad little slut," Mister hisses as he tightens the nipple clamps. He forces my mouth open with two fingers, then tells me to bite on the chain that attaches the clamps.

Revealing a handful of black clothespins, he clips them to the sides of my breasts, clusters around my labia, lines my inner thighs. I feel the tightening ebb and flow of the cables and the clothespins as I breathe. Wielding a little black rubber whip, Mister flicks me sharply all over. Settling into the pain, I stop feeling each individual pinch. My whole body rises and falls in a white incandescent heat.

Taking the chain out of my mouth, Mister tells me he's going to fuck my face. He hauls me up, still bound, onto my knees. Everything in the center of my vision suddenly flashes very bright.

I panic.

I strain wildly against the cords, the collar.  Mister asks about my safe word, but I don't understand what that means. I don't know what anything means.  Pulling me gently backwards into his lap, he unfastens one of the cables so I can stretch a bit. I feel a dozen rapid pinches, realizing that he's plucking the clamps and clothespins from my body. Light swirls in front of my eyes. A sip of cool water finds my mouth. I relax, my vision comes back. Kissing my forehead, Mister tells me I'm a good girl, he knows I'm taking this all to please him, I'm such a good girl.

I'm still wearing the collar, my hands and feet are still bound. After holding me tight for a few minutes, his hand slides to my pussy. He starts to pat my clit and I squirt all over his hand. "Good little slut," Mister smiles, "will you keep going for me?" I nod.

I hear the thick wet smacks as he spanks my cunt. I squirt until the bed is soaked. I squirt until there's nothing left. Reflexively I try to pee, just to have something to force out. We're exhausted, drenched in sweat and body fluids. Unfastening the rest of the cords, he leads me wobbly-legged into the shower and I can't stop giggling. I'm so high from sub-space that I will still be floating up there the entire next day.

Republished with permission from Daisy Danger. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact us. Photo via Club Capri Anderson.