They had discussed his "offence", as was their custom, and had negotiated the
punishment he would suffer. He was her immediate supervisor, in the "real"
world, and had made light of a serious suggestion she had made. It wouldn't have
been too bad had he not done it in front of all her peers, right in the main
office. She felt that made it a "major" offence. She wanted to give him a
"spanking" consisting of 300 blows. He thought that many blows might result in
bruising and argued for 100, instead. Finally, they compromised on 200 blows,
with a thin wooden paint stirrer, and she promised to give him a "lovely hand
job", assuming, of course, he would still be able to get off, after she was
through with his punishment. He laughed at the thought that any number of blows
from such a light, stinging instrument could have any effect on his orgasmic
ability, and agreed to the terms. That was how he found himself in his present
situation. It was a typical mid-summer afternoon in Southern California...about
eighty degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. He was naked, as he always was for
one of their "sessions". She had made him strip and had taken him out onto the
covered, completely private patio, just off the dining room. She had made him
buckle the soft, sturdy leather cuffs onto his wrists and ankles very snugly,
then had hooked his wrists together with a snap hook through their attached
rings. Then, using a two-step stool that was handy, she had raised his arms over
his head and hooked the other end of the snap hook onto a sturdy ring that was
screwed into one of the overhead beams of the patio cover. That left him with
his arms stretched over his head, but still able to stand comfortably, with his
feet flat on the patio deck. Next, she tied lengths of sturdy clothesline to the
rings on his ankle cuffs and pulled his legs apart as far as she could before
tying them off to tie-downs that were discretely located on the patio floor.
That left him up on his tiptoes, legs widely spread, with his arms now very
tightly held straight up over his head. She raked his chest and belly with her
fingernails and noted, with amusement, that his cock was starting to "take an
interest" in the proceedings. She then went inside to "get some more stuff". His
position was a little uncomfortable, but not unbearable. He thought it strange
that she had strung him up like this for a spanking. He would have thought she
would have tied him in some bent over position, to better expose his buttocks
for the punishment to come. Once a session had begun, however, the rules were
quite strict. He was not able to ask any questions, or to complain in any way.
He could speak only in response to a direct question from her and could, of
course, make any "involuntary" noises that her punishments might force out of
him. The long-ago-negotiated punishment for a breach of this major rule was so
harsh that he would never dream of a transgression. He had done so, once, and
had found that half-an-hour tied straddling a one inch thick dowel rod,
suspended between two stepladders, was excruciatingly painful. Even though it
had done no permanent damage to that tender spot between his balls and asshole
(much to his amazement), he would never do anything that would force him to
endure that agony, again. When she returned, she had changed into her typical
outfit for a "session". She wore a very brief thong bikini, with a miniscule
halter top, that showed off her trim and tanned athletic figure to its best
advantage. Her feet were bare, as always. She knew her pretty feet turned him
on, and she liked anything that added to the "tease". She had some things in her
hand that she placed on a small table behind him, strategically out of his field
of vision. Returning to his front, she grasped his cock, now very erect, in her
left hand, and gave it several smooth strokes from base to crown. Releasing it,
she watched with amusement as it bobbed up and down, then gave it a sharp smack
with her open palm, right on the sensitive head. His genitals were clean shaven,
except for a light dusting of pubic hair just above his cock. She had extracted
his promise to keep his cock and balls hairless back when they had first started
to play their little game. He hadn't objected too much, particularly after she
pointed out that it made his cock appear even larger than it already was. She
also insisted that he keep his armpit and chest hair closely trimmed, another
requirement that caused him no problem. "Looks like one part of you is
definitely ready for some action," she was grinning. "How about the rest of you?
Are you ready to begin?" Since it was a direct question, their rules allowed him
to respond. "Yes. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." He wanted to ask her why he was
tied in such a strange position for a spanking, but resisted a question that was
certain to earn him some serious pain. Besides, he was pretty certain he'd get a
full explanation from her as she began to work on him. "You look pretty good,
all stretched out like that." She was right in front of him, squeezing his balls
with one hand, while she stroked his cock with the other. "It never fails to
amaze me that you will allow me to tie you up like this, even though you know
I'm going to do some very cruel things to you. I guess it must have something to
do with the pleasure I always give you, after the pain. Your orgasms must be
pretty powerful, because they have an effect on you just like a drug. Today is a
great example of how your normally sharp thinking process can be thoroughly
dulled just by the prospect of a little sex and pain cocktail." She still hadn't
said anything he could respond to, so he remained silent, awaiting her pleasure.
"Actually, I was surprised that you agreed to 200 smacks so easily. I was hoping
to get you to agree to 75, or 100, maybe, but 200...whew! You probably should
have thought to stipulate where you're going to be getting those smacks. You
just assumed, since I was talking about a spanking, that the punishment would be
applied to your butt, didn't you?" She was enjoying the expression on his face
tremendously. It was apparent that a small light was beginning to come on. "You
can answer me," she smiled. "Yes, of course I did." He wanted to ask her where
else a spanking could be administered, but thought better of it. Questions were
not permitted. "Silly you. You know that a paint stirrer is just a little bigger
and wider than a twelve inch ruler, so you figured I couldn't do much damage to
your buns with such an instrument. You thought this would be the easiest orgasm
you've earned, didn't you?" "Honestly, yes," he responded. I figured it would
sting quite a bit, but shouldn't be too bad. I was delighted that you weren't
going to use something heavier, or maybe even a whip or crop." "You should know
me well enough, by now, to be suspicious any time you think you're going to be
getting off easily. You know how much pleasure I get from tormenting and teasing
you." She took a firm grip on his balls with her left hand and stretched them
out and away from his body as far as they would go. "No. Nature has provided the
perfect place for torturing a man with such a small, stinging device. It should
be interesting to see if you can take 200 smacks on your balls and still manage
to have an orgasm. I know you get turned on by a certain amount of pain, but
this may be too much, even for you. What do you think? Hmmm?" She released his
balls and waited expectantly for his response. "I think I've definitely learned
a lesson," he said, wryly. "It never occurred to me that a 'spanking' would be
administered anywhere but to my ass, and I thought 200 smacks on my ass with a
paint stirrer would be a piece of cake. You're right. I should have been
suspicious when it sounded so easy. I won't make that mistake again." "I'll just
bet you won't!," she was amused. "Well, I guess we better get the show on the
road. The first thing we need to do is make sure this big boy doesn't get in the
way." She was lightly stroking his cock as she said this. She stepped behind him
to the small table, then returned to his front, holding a pair of shiny little
alligator clamps, connected by a thin steel chain some twelve inches in length.
She started with his left nipple, teasing and pinching it with her sharp
fingernails until it stood erect. "You have such nice little nips," she said.
"They look just like pencil erasers and they're very sensitive, aren't they?" As
she said this, she opened one of the clamps and positioned it at the center of
his left nipple's tip. When she was satisfied with its location, she released
the jaws and let the sharp teeth of the clamp close on him. Breath whistled
sharply between his teeth, followed by a murmured "Owwwwww!" "These ARE fairly
intense clamps," she said, with mock seriousness. "But they have to have a very
firm grip, because they're going to be supporting a lot of weight." This was
said with a grin and a quick hefting of his cock. She went through the same
routine with his right nipple, getting another moan from him when the sharp
teeth bit home. With both nipples clamped, she gave the chain between them a
couple of sharp tugs, seeming pleased with his pained reaction. "That ought to
do the trick. Now let's get your cock hooked up..." She stepped behind him again
and returned with a three foot length of rawhide, probably a boot-lace, he
thought. She gave his cock a few smooth strokes, which made his erection seem
harder than he would have thought possible, particularly under the
circumstances. With him fully erect, she doubled the leather cord at its
midpoint and formed a loop at the closed end by passing the loose ends through
it. The loop went over his cock, where she pulled it very tight, about two
inches behind its quickly purpling crown. Then she took the loose ends and
passed them behind the chain connecting his nipples. She pulled them over the
chain until she was satisfied that his cock was stretched upright as far as
possible, and that it was exerting a maximum amount of pull on his nipples,
which were now being painfully stretched by the nasty little clamps. She tied
the loose ends off around the chain and seemed quite satisfied with the results
of her efforts. She scored the sensitive head of his cock with a sharp
fingernail. It caused him to jerk in his bonds, and created a nasty pull on the
nipple clamps. "Now all we have to do is get your balls properly prepared for
their spanking." She was grinning, but her tone was almost officious. He now
fully understood that this was going to be a very tough session for him to
endure. He was afraid to imagine what she was going to do to "prepare" his balls
for their imminent torture. She left him there while she went into the garage
and retrieved a sturdy aluminium stepladder, setting it up right in front of
him, with the step side facing away. It was one of the two that she had used to
support the dowel rod he had to straddle when he was punished for speaking
without permission. She had to nudge it around a bit to get it just where she
wanted it, with the back feet between his widely spread legs. He was completely
mystified as to her intentions, and his arms were really starting to ache from
supporting most of his weight. He wanted to tell her about his arms, but could
not. They had a "safe" word, of course. At any time during a session, if he
should be unable to continue, he had but to speak the word and the session would
stop at once. She would immediately release him from bondage and see to whatever
was causing him distress. He would never use the word unless he was in very
serious trouble, however, because the conditions of using it were severe. The
session would end at that point, and he would not experience the sexual pleasure
he was promised after enduring his punishment. In addition, before another
session could take place, he would have to spend a half hour straddling the
dreaded dowel rod, with his arms tied, wrists to elbows, behind him, and his
legs widely spread by means of thin cords tied to his big toes. The position
forced the entire weight of his body on a very small, very sensitive area
between his legs. He knew, from experience, that it would do him no physical
damage, but the pain was excruciating. He would never use the safeword unless he
was in very, very dire straits, indeed. His arms starting to ache from his
bondage definitely did not qualify. Satisfied with the ladder's position, she
stepped behind him again and returned with another 36" length of rawhide boot
lace, and a plastic bucket. She doubled the leather cord, made a loop in the
closed end, and, pulling his balls down in his scrotum as far as she could,
placed the loop over them and pulled it snug. It trapped his balls at the very
bottom of his scrotum, making them very tight, and very shiny. She demonstrated
their sensitivity by pulling on the cord with one hand and raking them with the
sharp fingernails of her other. "Pretty neat, huh?," she teased. "There's even a
little line of separation between them. Kinda makes 'em look like a little pair
of buttocks. Very appropriate for a spanking, don'tcha think?" She expected no
answer and he gave none. She took the end of the cord, pulled it over one of the
round ladder rungs which was about three feet off the ground, then tied it to
the handle of the plastic pail, which she let swing free at the end of the
leather. The pail was now suspended, underneath the stepladder, about two and a
half feet from the patio deck, pulling his balls straight out in front of him.
His worst fears were realized when she retrieved a coiled garden hose from the
corner of the patio, turned on the water, and began filling the pail. She said
nothing, preferring to concentrate on the pail, which filled rapidly, getting
heavier by the second. The pull on his testicles was getting very bad. The pail
looked like it would hold about two gallons of water. He knew a gallon weighed
somewhere around five pounds so he would have ten pounds pulling on his balls if
she filled it all the way. He wasn't sure he could take that much weight without
suffering some damage. Mercifully, she stopped when the pail was about
two-thirds full, then returned the hose to its storage place. "Well, it looks
like everything's in its proper place," she said cheerily, retrieving the paint
stirrer from the table behind him. "Let me just make sure that all is secure."
Using the stirrer, which was hardwood, about 14 inches long by two inches wide,
and about an eighth of an inch thick, she lifted up and then released the cord
from his balls to the ladder. They were being stretched out very tautly by the
heavy bucket of water. She lifted the cord about three inches and, when she
released it, allowing the bucket to drop suddenly, he grunted loudly. Pleased,
she stuck the stirrer under the chain between his nipples and pulled it slightly
away from his chest, watching his reaction. Then she slid it behind his cock and
forced it away from his belly. His eyes told her that it hurt, and that was
clearly the response she was after. "Looks like you're not going anywhere for a
while," she said, "and your balls aren't going to be moving a great deal,
either. That's important, 'cause I wouldn't want to miss them, would I?" He
didn't think a response was called for, and didn't want to waste any of the
energy he was sure to be needing for the upcoming ordeal. "Okay. You understand
why you are being punished? Correct?" "Yes. I understand" "And you understand
that you are to receive two hundred smacks to your balls with this little
stick?" She was unable to stand directly in front of him because of the
stepladder. She stood very close, just to his right, and watched his eyes,
closely. "That 'little stick' looks pretty intimidating to someone in my present
situation," he responded, somewhat truculently. "I'm going to let you get away
with that, since it WAS in response to a question. It wasn't responsive to the
question, however, so you were dangerously close to a session with the dowel. I
KNOW you wouldn't want that, again. I'm going to start, now. I must say your
balls look like they're just begging to be hit, all stretched out in front of
you like that. Is the weight from the pail causing you discomfort?" "Yes, a
great deal." "Too bad. Your cock still looks like you could cut diamonds with
it, so it can't be too awful. Maybe the spanking will help you forget about the
weight. Let's see." Since she was left-handed, she walked around behind him to
his left side. She rested the flat stick lightly atop his bound testicles for a
moment, then raised it about a foot above them and struck downward quickly.
SMACK!!! "Ahhhh!", he exclaimed. "I'll bet that really stings. That was a loud
impact." As always, she was watching his eyes. She delivered a second smack,
without warning, extracting another loud yelp from him. "If you're going to make
that much noise, I may have to gag you. I know the nearest neighbours are over
300 yards away, but a yelp like that can carry on a quiet afternoon. Do you want
me to get a gag?" "No. I'll try to restrain myself. That DOES sting horribly."
He was already starting to breathe a little rapidly. He knew this was going to
be bad. She gave him eight more smacks, in rapid succession, and seemed pleased
that he was able to limit his response to a few sharp releases of breath.
"There. You've had ten already. How are your little eggs doing?" "This is a lot
worse than I had imagined. I'm not sure I can take this. My balls feel like
they're on fire. Are you sure there's no bleeding?" This was met with ten more
sharp, stinging smacks, delivered with a couple of seconds between each blow. He
had suddenly started to perspire, with rivulets of sweat rolling down his chest
and sides. His bondage allowed him no movement, whatsoever, so he just had to
hang there while his balls were tortured. He had jerked back, involuntarily, in
response to a couple of the blows, but the resulting pain to his, already
stretched to the limit, testicles caused him to carefully resist his
reflex-based responses. He wanted to be as still as possible, and he wanted this
ordeal to be over as quickly as possible. She administered thirty more
resounding smacks, from his left side, then walked behind him to his right side
"to change the angle of attack". Still using her left hand, she delivered
another fifty blows from that side. He was emitting a low-pitched sigh with each
strike, now, so she paused after completing the first hundred smacks to evaluate
his condition. "It looks like they're starting to swell up a bit," she mused,
fondling his tightly stretched sack. "They're definitely turning a darker
colour, but I'm pretty sure that's just from the lack of circulation caused by
the tightness of this cord." From his pained reaction to the light touch of her
fingers, it was obvious his balls had become extremely sensitive. "Are you doing
OK? I don't want to do you any permanent damage." She seemed genuinely
concerned. "I don't know," he responded. Every time you hit them, it feels like
a hot knife has been stuck right through them. Even the light touch of your
fingers feels like fire to me. The funny thing is, I haven't started to get even
a hint of that dull, aching sensation that I associate with getting hit in the
balls. I figured that would be the hardest thing to deal with. Actually, I
thought I might have to worry about becoming nauseous...but that hasn't
happened." "That's because I've tied them so tightly in their sack. If I'd let
them hang loose and started beating on them, It wouldn't have stung so much, but
you would have probably gotten sick a long time ago. Sting is much better than
thud, any time. Still...I AM starting to get worried. I always want to make you
THINK about using the safeword, but I also want you to be able to complete your
punishment. How's about we negotiate a compromise? I'll give you twenty more
smacks...real hard ones...then I'll untie your balls and see about getting you
that orgasm I promised. What do you think? "What about my side of the
compromise?," he asked. He knew, from painful experience, that she gave no
relief for free. "Well," she grinned. "You'll have to let me put something on
you that will make it more difficult for you to cum, and very painful for you,
if you are able to get off." "What kind of 'something" are you talking about?
Not those damn clothespins, again?" He was referring to a session of three
months ago when she had proposed a similar compromise. He had agreed, mostly
because anything seemed an improvement over the creative pain she was causing
him. To his horror, before she made him cum, she placed eight plastic
clothespins on the sensitive ridge around the head of his cock. They had
serrated grips, so they would not be accidentally dislodged. He hadn't
appreciated the nastiness of her intentions until her skilful hands brought him
to the edge of cumming. The clothespins had been painful enough, jangling around
while she stroked on his cock but, when he felt the first surge of ejaculation
he felt unimaginable pain from the pins. His cock, naturally enough, tried to
expand to its fullest size with each orgasmic surge. The clothespins, tightly
gripping their little bits of ultra-sensitive skin, would not open wider,
causing intense, searing pain, from their bites. Each time he surged, which was
many, as she skilfully milked him completely dry of cum, He felt an absolutely
incomparable mixture of overwhelming pleasure, mixed with excruciating pain. His
screams had been so loud that they truly worried about one of the distant
neighbours calling the police. He surely did not want to experience that, again,
and said so. "I promise. No clothespins will be involved. It's something else
I've been wanting to try. You know I won't give you all the details until you've
agreed. There HAS to be some element of surprise, after all. Now, decide! It's
either twenty more smacks to these tender little babies," she fondled his balls
lightly, eliciting a wince of pain from him, "followed by a hand job, or, it's
100 more smacks, and who knows how you'll be feeling at that point?. Make up
your mind. I don't want to take all day with this." "You leave me no choice. I'm
afraid 100 more smacks from that nasty little stick might just do me some
permanent damage. I'll take my chances with the twenty smacks and the
masturbation." "Yeah, that's a tough choice, but I think you made the right one.
OK. I'm going to give you twenty more, ten from each side. Here we go!" Each of
the twenty were harder than any that had gone before. She was making sure she
got her money's worth out of these last few blows. She allowed about fifteen
seconds between each impact, giving him time to appreciate the pain of each, as
it was delivered, then time to anticipate the pain of the next. When they were
finally over, she quickly tipped the pail of water, spilling it onto the patio
deck and relieving the strain on his punished testicles. After untying the
rawhide from the pail's handle, she gently worked the loop around his sack
looser...not without difficulty because the swelling of his balls had made the
cord dig in severely...then pulled it off and discarded it. She massaged his
balls lightly, allowing them to find their normal location in their sack, before
releasing them and starting on his cock and nipples. She got his cock free
first. She untied its supporting cord from the nipple clamp chain, then loosened
the loop behind its darker and shinier crown and freed it from its restraints,
allowing it to drop to its normal position between his widespread legs. The
nipple clamps were last, and had been on for so long, and under so much tension,
that he gasped with shock when they were removed and blood began to recalculate
where they had been. His arms were very tired from being stretched high above
him for so long, but he knew, from experience, that she would keep him tied like
this until she got him off. "I have to get a couple of things from inside," she
said, "and I need this pail." She went inside, leaving him to puzzle over her
intentions for him. He had no idea how she would contrive to make his orgasm
both difficult and painful, but was certain her imagination was up to the task.
He was alone for only a few minutes when she returned with the pail full of ice
and water, a tube of KY jelly, and something else in her hand that he couldn't
see. She set the pail in front of him, laid the KY beside it, then showed him
what else was in her hand. He recognized them right away, and thought they
looked very innocuous. There were four of them. They were little white plastic
rings...the type that remain on the neck of a two-litre soda bottle when you
unscrew the cap. She had managed to work them off of some of the bottles in the
recycling container, he guessed, but still didn't quite see what she planned. A
closer look revealed that they were lined with little plastic spikes, flexible,
but quite sharp, and he began to develop some serious concern for his immediate
welfare. Acknowledging his worst fears, she began to explain. " "These are from
old soda bottles, but you've probably already figured that out. The little teeth
inside them aren't sharp enough to break the skin, but they are plenty sharp
enough to hurt sensitive skin, and the head of your cock is covered with VERY
sensitive skin. I won't be able to get them on properly, unless your cock is a
lot less erect than it is right now. That's what the ice water is for. Let's see
if we can make that 'swelling' go down." She was enjoying her little joke
tremendously as she picked up the pail, moved between his wide-spread legs, and
completely submerged his genitals in the icy cold water. He cried out from the
shock of the cold, but was helpless to move his cock and balls away from the
freezing temperature they were now feeling. She held it there for much longer
than he would have thought necessary but, when she did finally remove it, his
erection was just about gone. "That should do it," she said. "Now let's get
these on you while things are a little smaller and easier to deal with." She
took each of the rings, one at a time, and positioned them on the crown of his
cock, which was quite painful, in itself. She placed them over the tip, worked
them down underneath until they rested on his fraenum, then slid the other side
down the top of his crown until they could not go further. When she had finished
she had all four lined up, one after the other, forming a very painful, cigar
band-like ring, about a half-inch wide, right around one of the most sensitive
places on a man's body. The sharp little plastic spikes dug in nastily, causing
him significant discomfort. "Just wait until your cock gets hard, again," she
grinned. Those little things are going to hurt like crazy." They already did
hurt like crazy, he thought, and would become excruciating if his cock got hard.
He couldn't even imagine cumming with them on him. The pain might make him
crazy, yet, obviously, the little spikes wouldn't even break the skin. She might
have come up with something that would, indeed, make it very hard for him to
have an orgasm. At the moment, at least, he hadn't the slightest interest in
cumming. She, of course, was determined to bring him off spectacularly. She was
quite proud of this little idea and was anxious to see if it had the effect she
thought it would. Squeezing a large amount of KY into her palm, she stood right
in front of him and began to rub her palms together, gleefully. "Are you ready
to ride?" she quizzed him. "This is going to be a LOTTA fun!" She began a slow,
skilful stroking of his cock with her left hand, gently milking his sensitive
balls with her right. To his horror, he felt his cock begin to harden, almost
immediately. The sharp pain he felt on his cockhead told him how really bad this
was going to be. She was an expert masturbatrix and, if she wanted to make him
cum, nothing would stand in her way. She worked him a little harder, sliding her
hand up and down his shaft with the glistening lubricant. Watching his eyes, she
could see that he was already beginning to climb that slippery slope she would
force him to slide down, when she was ready. After a few minutes, she released
him and watched his, now fully erect, cock bob around in space like it had a
mind of its own, with its crown being compressed and tormented by the sharp
little spikes. She resumed her stroking, taking him closer and closer to the
edge. He knew he was helpless to resist what was happening to him. He was about
to blow and knew it would probably be the most exquisitely painful ejaculation
he had ever experienced. The pain he was feeling from the little spikes was
already much worse than the clothespins had been when he had ejaculated! When he
came, his cock would have no room to expand and the spikes would dig into him
savagely. He resigned himself to his fate and waited for her to decide to take
him over the top. She soon did exactly that and, when he exploded, he screamed
aloud. It felt like his cock was being crushed by a crown of needles! He could
feel his body actually trying not to respond to the irresistible urge to
ejaculate, but to no avail. She expertly milked him, slowly and surely, until he
could cum no more, while he sighed and moaned in agony mixed with pleasure. When
he finally stopped surging, she scooped up some of his semen on her fingers,
then placed them in his mouth. "Here you go. Taste yourself. That was pretty
wild, huh? Now I'm afraid I've got a bit of bad news for you. I won't be able to
get those rings off you until you're soft again. If I tried to take them off
now, you wouldn't like the result. How's about I untie you, retie your hands
behind your back and take you inside? Do you think you could find a way to get
me off, without using your hands?" She was grinning broadly. "If you do, I'll
get some little scissors and cut those rings off. Otherwise, you'll just have to
wear them until the 'swelling' goes down. That could take quite a while, given
the level of sexual excitement these sessions always generate in you. Who knows?
You might even get sexually excited again while you're trying to get me off. Her
grin grew larger. "You'd beg me to cut those rings off then, huh?" She untied
the ropes pulling his ankles apart, then stood on the step stool to release his
wrists, which he allowed her to retie, behind his back. Grabbing his cock she
took him into the house like a naked pull toy, looking forward to her orgasm. He
was happy to be done with his punishment and was looking forward to giving her
pleasure. In spite of his soreness, and the continuing pain on the head of his
cock, which was hardening again at the sight of her firm buttocks in the thong,
he was already contemplating what he could do to her to earn his next session.
...and the beat, as always, would go on!
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