Miranda Torments Me (F/F) (consensual) (part 5 added)

[FrustratedBinder]

I had been dreading this for a week, but a deal is a deal. I am in my early 40s and in pretty good shape. Hey, at least my boobs stick out farther than my stomach. I am at least as attractive and skinny as the pretty 35-year-old I usually tie up and torment with tickling and controlled orgasms. I don’t like being tied up, but after she begged me several times, I finally acquiesced. That’s how I came to be tied up in my basement and awaiting Miranda’s pleasure. Over our many sessions, I have used different toys and positions to drive her mad. Since she was only going to get to time me up once, she announced her intent to use all the toys on me in a single session.

I was completely naked except for my white, supportive, but not underwired, bra. My ankles were locked to a three-foot-wide spreader bar. My hands were tied palm-to-palm and then pulled up toward the ceiling so that I was almost standing on my toes. Once I was helplessly bound in an inverted Y, she wrapped a black and white striped corset around my torso, from just below my boobs to well below my waist, and began lacing up the back. She made it very tight, and I tried to protest, but I could only make a muffled grunt.

She had shoved a black ball gag into my mouth and buckled it behind my neck. Then she added a wide panel gag that pressed the ball gag deeper into my mouth. She buckled that behind my head, too.

The corset was very uncomfortable, and it restricted my breathing.

“I think I am going to take a little break from tying you up and spank you.”

I tried to protest, tugging my hands against the rope holding them high above my head, but again, there was no point. She presented a soft cat-o’-nine-tails to me and giggled. Then she stepped behind me and began lashing my fanny and thighs. With my legs spread wide, she was particularly careful to ensure that the cat nipped at the sensitive skin between my thighs. I tugged with all my might to get loose from the ropes and protect my tender flesh, but I had taught her too well. My struggles just made her laugh. “I see why you enjoy tying me up,” she chuckled. After a while, she stopped and rubbed her hands on me, inspecting to see if there were any parts of my thighs and buttocks that were not red and hot. Apparently, she was unsatisfied, because she renewed her attack, a little harder this time.

When she was tired of flogging my backside – long after I was tired of her doing it to me – she set down the cat.

“It’s time for the bitch fork,” she announced. I had invented the “bitch fork” to drive her crazy, and I began to panic that I would be unable to withstand its torture. The device got its name from the three prongs at the end of an adjustable stand. The center prong ended in a thick, curved vibrator. When inserted into her – and now my – vagina, the curved end pressed against my G-spot. The rear prong ended with a thin, but surprisingly powerful anal vibrator. The third prong held a bulbous, wand-style vibrator that pressed against the clitoral cluster. She lubed the first two prongs with KY and then carefully inserted them. She adjusted the height of the stand to push them firmly and unremovably deep inside me. I knew that when she turned them on, I’d be driven insane. But she didn’t turn them on – yet. First, she attached a wide leather belt around my waist, already cinched tight by the corset. Chains from this leather belt held the bitch fork firmly in place. There was no way I could try to lift myself off the blasted device, no matter how hard I struggled.

Miranda rolled over a wheeled cart holding an electrical stimulation machine used mostly in medical applications, such as physical therapy. The device had ten leads. She carefully attached three on each side of my girl parts, one on each side very close to my labia. Then she placed two leads above and beside my breasts, which were thrust upward and forward by my arms being pulled tightly above my head. I had never tried the bitch fork and this medical device on her at the same time. I had no idea how much torture I was about to receive.

She peeled down the cups of my bra. The now-empty cups pushed upward against the undersides of my boobs, making them protrude even more. She carefully attached clamps to each nipple. When I tied her up, I had taught her that if they hurt, you’re doing it wrong. The point is to apply pressure to the areolae to draw blood to the nipples and make them extra sensitive. It’s uncomfortable but rarely painful. A spring with a light weight, like a fishing sinker, was attached to each clamp. I knew that any movement would cause the springs to expand and contract, tugging on my nipples. Once I had used the gentle, erotic, rhythmic tugging of the weights to induce a nipple orgasm for Miranda.

Then she tested the electric leads. She turned the machine to its lowest setting. This caused the muscles around my boobs to quiver, which made them shake, which made the spring bounce, which tugged at my nipples. I tried in vain to keep my body still, but the electrical stimulation made my chest muscles shudder involuntarily.

I moaned, grunted, and tried to curse at her through the infernal gag.

She activated the leads around my girl parts, and my pussy went wild. I strained as hard as I could. My body arched and stiffened. I screamed through the gag, which only made her giggle. I don’t know how to describe the sensation. Though the leads were attached to the outside of my vagina, the simulation caused the muscles of my vagina, thighs, labia, and stomach to vibrate. I was doing five hundred Kegels a minute. It felt like a man with unlimited energy was pumping in and out with amazing speed, strength, and endurance. It was incredibly stimulating without any pain. Though the internal dildo wasn’t turned on, the shuddering of my abdominal muscles made my vagina vibrate against it instead of it vibrating against me. My whole body was quivering. The spring-mounted weights felt like they were going to tear my nipples off because they were bouncing so violently. I actually tried to shake my boobs harder, hoping to shake the clamps off my nipples. That didn’t work. It was wonderful. It was torture! I really started to panic. I was already losing my mind. What was going to happen when she turned on the bitch fork? Would I be driven insane? I was petrified, but I wanted it so badly! She increased the power of the electrical stimulation. I screamed, thrusting my head back. The corset stopped me from inhaling as much as I needed.

She suddenly turned off the machine, and I collapsed, nearly unconscious, only held upright by my hands pulled tightly toward the ceiling. The vibrator pushed more deeply inside me as I collapsed.

When Miranda unclipped the nipple clamps, the feeling was both shockingly painful and erotically intense. As the pressure on my nipples was released, the blood rushed away, and a wave of almost orgasmic intensity coursed through my boobs and my chest. I growled and whimpered desperately.

I was puzzled when Miranda pulled the cups of my bra back up and carefully adjusted my boobs. She left the room for a moment and returned with a cup of ice chips. Then that bitch placed several chips around my nipples, held in place by the bra. I struggled to shake them loose. Drool dripped down my chin and into my cleavage, where it mixed with the icy water from the melting chips. A frigid rivulet ran down the front of my corset, working its way slowly toward my girl parts. As the chips melted, she added more and more until my boobs were so cold they almost stung, and no amount of bouncing or shaking could free the cubes from where the bra held them tightly against my skin.

I knew she couldn’t understand me as I cursed her and tried to shout very unladylike threats at her. This seemed to please her to no end. She continued to feed chips of ice into my soaking wet bra, punishing my poor boobs: nipples, sides, and undersides. As she did so, she picked up an old ping-pong paddle and began swatting my fanny mercilessly. Tears streamed from my eyes and mixed with the stream of drool dripping into my cleavage. Each swat sent vibrations across my backside, and my already red, hot, and sensitive thighs jiggled.

When she tired of watching me jerk every time that paddle swatted my cheeks, she set it down. She whispered in my ear. “I think you’re ready now.” She pulled a blindfold over my eyes and then switched on the bitch fork. She also switched the electrical stimulation on the medical device back on and turned it up another notch. With my eyes covered, all of my attention was focused on my girl parts.

If the continuing stimulation from the medical device was causing erotic distress to my suffering pussy at 5 out of 10, turning on the bitch fork increased it to a 12. I was barely conscious of my own growling and screaming and Mirand’s uproarious laughter at my plight. I shook my chest and head violently, tugging downward fruitlessly with my arms.

The anal vibrator was both erotic and annoying. It’s an odd, uncomfortable feeling that leaves me incredibly helpless and vulnerable. I’ve never let anyone cause anal penetration during sex. I didn’t like the damned vibrator in my ass, but I was helpless to remove the annoyance. And that inability made the other stimulation more intense. I could actually feel it in my vagina as well as my fanny.

The vibrator in my vagina was amazing. It was causing my G-spot to go crazy, aided by the medical machine. I am capable of multiple orgasms. Wave after wave of pleasure shot from my vagina through my whole body, to my toes and fingertips even. Then the firm pressure against my clitoris caused repeated waves of orgasms of its own. I have had clitoral orgasms before, but whether it was the combination of all the sources of torment or the leads around my labia and inner thighs, I don’t know, but the orgasms from the wand were so intense, I thought my head was going to explode.

I desperately wanted to pull my legs together and curl into a tight, quivering ball around the vaginal vibrator and the wand. The medical device caused my thighs to vibrate intensely. The spreader bar kept my legs firmly apart despite my efforts to close them. It was so damn frustrating! And exciting.

She yanked down my bra and used a soft riding crop to slap my boobs. After what they had already been through, this added punishment greatly increased the orgasmic feeling building unbelievably in my loins. I struggled to turn away, to protect my boobs, but that merely exposed the sensitive sides and tender flesh on the underside of my boobs to her enthusiastic riding crop.

There is no way the orgasms could keep getting stronger, but they did. I wanted it to stop, but I prayed it would never end. My eyes bulged under the blindfold, and I screamed uncontrollably.

The waves of orgasm crashing through my body even engulfed my poor, tortured boobs. I could feel them growing rock hard and straining to burst through my bra as I struggled to take deep breaths. Normally, when I am having multiple orgasms, they come in waves: pleasure, brief respite, pleasure, etc. In this case, when the orgasms from my vagina subsided, those from my clitoris increased, so I had essentially one long, sustained, intense, amazing, torturous, mind-blowing orgasm. I don’t know how long my whole body was engulfed in never-ending, incredibly intense pleasure. Time no longer had meaning. When I exhaled all my breath in a throat-searing scream, every muscle in my body was jerking and straining violently and uncontrollably. I couldn’t inhale. My stomach and abdomen had reached temporary muscular failure. My thighs quivered uncontrollably. I faded in and out of consciousness, orgasms consuming my whole body and mind.

When I finally woke up, long after, I thanked God that I still seemed capable of coherent thought. I took stock of my situation. I was completely naked and tightly hogtied on the couch next to Miranda, who was reading quietly when she noticed I had awakened. The gag, blindfold, and corset were gone. My wrists and ankles were secured in thick, padded cuffs, and I wore a wide dog collar that kept my neck stiff. My girl parts were trembling and still felt like they were being stimulated in a very pleasant manner. My fanny and thighs still stung and felt hot. My nipples – actually my whole boobs -- ached.

“Are you ready for round two?” she asked with a mischievous grin. I struggled violently to escape. Though the gag was gone, my pleas for mercy were incoherent and garbled -- but I was enjoying this too much to utter the safe word. I was eager to know what round two would be.

If you like this story, please read the 14-part series about Terri's request to be tied up. They start here.

[LunaDog]

A case of 'be careful just what you wish for?'

[FrustratedBinder]

I made a quick change to the last paragraph to set up a part 2. I hope you enjoy the story.

[latin-self-bound]

Intense story!! I loved every detail, the scene was very well described and I as the reader can imagine the overwhelming feelings of the captive. It's interesting how the inverse dynamic adds to the intensity of the interaction.

[FrustratedBinder]

For round two, the thick padded cuffs remained locked to my wrists and ankles. An additional padlock held my wrists together behind my back and my ankles together. I was wearing only a pair of sheer black pantyhose over black lace panties. She tightly buckled a wide leather belt, cinching my waist, that was held closed by three tiny key locks. She took a long length of rope and doubled it on itself. She had me stand in the middle of the room with my legs spread widely.

She looped the middle of the rope between my wrists in a lark’s head. Then she passed the running ends of the rope through my crotch. As she pulled on the rope, it dug between my butt cheeks. She measured the rope and then tied several knots along its length. When she passed the running ends through a D-ring on the front of the waist belt and pulled, the rope dug into my fanny and cleaved my pussy, spreading my labia so that the knots along the rope pressed against my pussy and my clitoral cluster. I squeaked when she pulled on it.

She pulled the rope back through my crotch and through a D-ring on the back of the waist belt. This time, the ropes rested outside my labia. When she tugged on the rope, it squeezed my labia together around the knotted section. The feeling was quite erotic, not just from the physical sensation, but from the feeling of utter vulnerability.

While holding the running end of the rope taught, she helped me lie on my stomach. The carpet felt rough and scratchy against my bare boobs. Retaining the pressure from the rope, looped through the back D-ring, she bent my ankles toward my fanny, like a hogtie. She pressed my feet into my buttocks and then tied the running ends of the ropes between my ankles. There was excess rope, so she made several loops around my ankles before tying off the rope.

I was in a strict hogtie. Any movement of my wrists or ankles was immediately translated to my clitoris, and I squeaked and whimpered from the sensation.

She had three leather straps. Two were two inches wide, and the third was only an inch wide. She reached under my chest – which made my pussy go crazy – and wrapped the first two-inch strap snugly under my boobs, around my chest, and around my elbows, pinning my arms against my sides and back. She used a tiny key lock on the buckle. She took the second wide strap and did the same just above my chest. My arms were fastened inescapably and my boobs were being squeezed.

She rolled me on my back. That necessarily caused my legs to flex, digging the knots into my clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through my loins. She reached under me with the one-inch strap. Rather than wrapping it above or below my breasts, she placed it right on my nipples. As she tightened the buckle, the strap pressed on my nipples and “muffined” my boobs above and below it quite uncomfortably. “Does that hurt?” she asked.

“Just a little.”

She tightened the strap one more notch.

“Ouch. That’s enough.”

She tightened it one more notch.

“Ouch! That’s really getting uncomfortable."

She reached for the buckle. “Uncomfortable or painful?"

“It hurts, you bitch!” I shouted.

"Let’s not get ugly," she said, tightening it one more notch.

“Stop, please! That’s too much.”

With a giggle, she loosened it one notch and then added a small key lock. "That's better," She said, "Be nice to me, and you'll enjoy the weekend much more."

She put all the keys onto a key ring: full-sized keys for the wrist and ankle cuffs and tiny keys for all the straps. She rolled me onto my stomach, which pressed my boobs uncomfortably and tugged the knots against my clitoris. Damn it, this was torture!

She strolled across the family room and into the kitchen, placing the keys on the kitchen floor. They were something like forty feet away. She returned, grabbed my knees, and dragged me the last few feet across the family room, increasing the distance to the keys. My boobs were already tortured. Being dragged across the carpet was awful.

She sat in front of me, stroking my hair.

“So we’re going to play a little game, honey,” she grinned mischievously. “I am going to give you 45 minutes to wriggle to the keys and free yourself. If you get free in 45 minutes, then you can tie me up and torment me. If you don’t make it in 45 minutes, we’ll have round three. Also, if you have an orgasm before you get free, we’ll have round three."

"What's round three?" I asked.

"I am going to tie you in an upside-down, suspended spread eagle and tickle you until you pee yourself or pass out. Or maybe both."

“I didn't know you could be so cruel,” I said.

She just laughed. “No more cruel than you’ve been to me.”

“I thought you liked what I did to you. You keep asking me to bring it up a notch with each session.”

“Oh, I love it. That’s why I want you to get a taste of your own medicine."

"But I don't like being tied up like you do."

"Your girl parts are telling a different story." She was right. My pussy was going crazy, and all I could think about was cumming.

"There's no way I can get to the keys and free myself in 45 minutes." To myself, I was thinking that there was no way I was going to go 45 minutes without an orgasm. Every time I moved, my feet or wrists would tug on the crotch rope send shivers through my pussy. I wasn't thinking about the damned keys. All I wanted to do was wiggle myself to a screaming orgasm.

"I love that defeatist attitude. I am looking forward to tickling you senseless... Do you have any last words before we begin?”

I sighed in resignation. “No. I guess not.”

“Good.” She pulled my head up by my hair and shoved a red rubber ball gag into my mouth. Then she buckled the gag behind my neck. She held up her phone and showed me the 45-minute timer. “Let the game begin.” With that, she swatted my fanny hard. "Giddyup."

[FrustratedBinder]

Part 3:

I tested my predicament. I was bound securely with no chance of escape until Miranda chose to let me loose. The strap across my breasts was so tight, I thought my nipples were going to come out of my back.

My initial thought was to inch toward the keys. I would lift my fanny in the air, putting my weight on my tortured bosom, and inch my knees forward. Then I would put my weight on my knees and slide my chest forward until I was flat on the floor again. The carpet provided some traction for my knees, but it was very rough on my sensitive breast skin. But when I tried to execute this technique, I found that as I tried to lift my fanny, my ankles pulled away a bit, tugging on the crotch rope.

As I struggled to inch forward, the crotch rope dug deeper into my pussy. The knots rubbed against my clitoris and made me moan and whimper. The ropes rubbing on my sensitive, shaven pussy sent electric thrills through my loins. The ropes on the outside of my labia squeezed them together against the knotted rope, cleaving my pussy, increasing the pressure and sensitivity. After doing this a few times, the struggle and the predicament were driving me dangerously close to an orgasm, so I had to pause.

My girl parts were going crazy. I was sweating like I was in a sauna. My hair was matted to my face. My fanny stung from where she had swatted me. My whole body trembled, my legs shook, and my nether regions quivered. I tried to take a deep breath, but the strap around my boobs and nipples was as effective as a corset in restricting my breathing. Worst of all, I had only moved a few inches – maybe a foot – nearer to the keys.

Every movement elicited either a muffled grunt, a moan, or a squeak.

Between the trembling and quivering, just the act of breathing vibrated the knots against my clitoris. No matter how still I tried to keep my body, it felt like she was holding a vibrator against the soft mound between my thighs. I fought to stay as still as possible until the feeling of impending orgasm began to subside.

Then I started to inch forward again. I only advanced a foot before I had to stop again and let my pussy relax. The tension on the crotch rope was becoming a bit painful. Between the rope and the rough carpet, I was rubbing my pussy and my boobs raw, but I didn’t care. I needed to keep moving. I needed those damned keys.

I was leaving a trail of drool and – uh, other fluids in my wake, like a perverted, sex-craved snail.

As I collapsed again, she chuckled. Miranda walked over and grabbed the ring of keys. As she walked back toward me, I thanked God that she would release me. But that was premature. She grabbed my shoulder and rolled me on my side, sending an electric shock out from my clitoris through my belly and thighs. She reached for the little lock holding the strap across my boobs. When she unlocked the lock and unbuckled the strap, it sprang away. The sudden release of pressure on my nipples was terribly painful. I screamed. But the pain was soon followed by a strange warmth as blood rushed back into my bright red, engorged boobs. There was a dark pink line across my boobs where the strap pressed deeply into my tender flesh. Tears seeped from the corners of my firmly shut eyes. When the feeling subsided, she rolled me back onto my stomach, tossed the keys back onto the kitchen floor, and sat on the other side of the room to watch me continue to writhe and struggle.

I tried to inch forward a few more times, knowing that the clock was ticking and how much I disliked being tickled. And I knew Miranda wouldn’t just tickle me. She planned to tickle me to the point of tortured exhaustion.

I inched forward again. The mix of slight pain, genital stimulation, and helpless predicament drove me to the edge of orgasm. I wanted to cum. I NEEDED to cum. If I were a spy, I would have spilled every secret I knew – maybe even make up some – for sexual release. The unquenchable need for an orgasm overwhelmed me. Involuntarily, my whole body stiffened. The rope dug into my clitoris. I screamed as a wave of orgasms racked my body. When I thought the orgasm was done, I relaxed, which caused the knots to rub me again, and I would stiffen in another unbridled wave of pleasure. Again, and again. Finally, my whole body tingling in the afterglow of sexual satisfaction, I collapsed. I was still many feet from the keys. I had failed my challenge, and I would soon pay my punishment. Though I feared the punishment, I didn’t care. I floated in a state of euphoria for quite some time. I wanted to curl into a ball, but my bonds prevented that.

I was vaguely aware that she was untying my ropes and releasing me as I lay on my stomach, panting. Before I knew it, she had placed my arms in a sexy, supple leather, crop-topped straightjacket, designed for bondage play. When she buckled it tightly behind my back, my arms were held snugly against my front, just under my boobs, as if I was hugging myself. In fact, after the intense orgasms, all I wanted to do was hug myself and whimper.

Except for the straitjacket, I was naked. She had to support me as she guided me to my bedroom.

“I’m so sorry,” she said earnestly. “Your pussy is so raw. Your lips are bleeding a bit. This is going to hurt for a while. I didn’t mean for this to be that painful.” I heard her in the bathroom washing her hands thoroughly. When she returned, she held a tube of medicated ointment.

Now, I have no lesbian tendencies, although I can appreciate an attractive woman when I see one. She gently spread my legs and began rubbing the medicated ointment all over my girl parts. It stung at first, but then the ointment had a sort of numbing effect. As she rubbed in several layers of ointment, my nether regions felt warm. My girl parts quivered. As she rubbed the ointment against my sensitive skin, if she got too close to my clitoris, my legs stiffened, and I caught my breath. Then she pulled a pair of thick, cotton panties over my legs and fanny. As I lay there moaning and squeaking, she applied leather straps to my ankles, below and above my knees, and high on my thighs.

She covered me with a sheet. She caressed the hair out of my face. Then she wrapped a thick, rubber blindfold with a nose hole around my face, blocking all light. Then she left me lying in bed, trembling, and I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep until morning.

[redlukas]

Amazing story!

[LunaDog]

How does one meet this Miranda?

[FrustratedBinder]

Part 4:

Miranda helped me to my feet and removed the blindfold. My arms were still in the supple, leather straitjacket made for bondage games, and my legs were still tied together at my ankles, above and below my knees, and high on my thighs. After gently rubbing more ointment on my pussy and pulling my panties back up, she made me hop into the kitchen. She held my arms to ensure I didn’t fall.

I remained tied, and she even wrapped another strap around my waist, pinning me to the kitchen chair. As she brushed my hair, we chatted about how much I enjoyed yesterday’s bondage session. Despite the residual soreness from rubbing my poor pussy across the floor and from the knotted rope digging into my clitoris, the experience was amazing.

“I am an expert at being tied and tormented by you,” Mirand said, “but this is my first time tying you up. I’m sorry if I was too rough yesterday.”

“The orgasms were pretty intense. That crotch rope was amazing. It hurt a little, but by the end, all I could think about was wiggling myself into an orgasm. When it came, it was amazing.”

“Better than the bitch fork?”

“Different. The bitch form creates a bunch of different kinds of orgasms that go on an on for a long time, but the knotted rope creates a more intense series of orgasms for a shorter time.”

“Which did you like better?”

I grinned. “Do I have to choose?”

Since she didn’t untie me, she fed me breakfast. I tried to wriggle free as she slowly – intentionally slowly to heighten my anticipation – cleaned up from breakfast. Afterward, she untied me and gave me thirty minutes to shower and fix my hair and makeup. I emerged from the bathroom in another pair of full-coverage cotton panties and my bra. I had added another coat of the ointment, and my girl parts felt much, much better.

“Nope. Take it off.” She motioned to my chest. I removed the bra and stood awkwardly. Then she told me to take another 30 minutes to go through my morning yoga routine to stretch out the kinks in my muscles.

After she led me to the basement, she attached ankle cuffs that were padded and designed to suspend the victim by her feet. She then locked these cuffs to a three-foot-wide spreader bar. Finally, she attached the spreader bar to chains and used a hoist to pull my feet toward the ceiling. With each click, click, click, I was lifted higher. In the end, my head was suspended about a foot off the ground.

She attached padded cuffs to each wrist and locked them to the end of another spreader bar. After a few more clicks of the hoist, my fingertips could barely reach the floor.

She had tied me upside down, suspended and spread-eagled, as she had promised as my penalty for not escaping during round two. To complete my predicament, she attached ropes to the ends of the spreader bar between my wrists and tied the bar to eye hooks on the floor. Even if I had the abdominal strength to crunch myself so that I could reach one of the ankle cuffs with my fingers, this additional rope made that impossible.

My boobs felt really odd hanging upside down. The tender skin under them is rarely seen or exposed. I am blessed with more breast tissue than fat in my boobs, so they poked out in a funny way when I hung upside down.

She grinned at me. “I promised you that I would tickle you until you either peed yourself or passed out, right?” I nodded, instinctively tightening the muscles in my tummy and thighs. “I have changed my mind a little.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Instead,” she continued, presenting a soft riding crop made for bondage games in one hand, a soft cat of nine tails in the other, “I am going to flog your ass and thighs with the cat, and I am going to slap your stomach and boobs with the crop until you beg me to tickle you. Then I will tickle you senseless until you beg to be flogged again. How does that sound?”

“It sounds awful, Mirand. Why do you want to torture me like that? I’ve never been that cruel to you.”

“Maybe I want you to be this cruel to me, and I am showing you how.”

“Okay. I believe you. You don’t have to do this. I understand what you want. OUCH!” With the flick of her wrist, the riding crop struck the tender skin under my right boob with a loud snapping sound. “Damn it, Miranda! That hurts.”

Snap! Snap! Snap! She really punished my right boob. I bucked and squirmed, but nothing I could do could protect my tender flesh. “Stop it!” I shouted. Miranda belly laughed.

“You're taking the fun out of this with all your complaining.” She approached with a red ball gag. I pressed my lips together and turned my head. She grabbed my left boob and squeezed. Hard. I cried out, and she shoved the gag into my mouth. Since there was nothing I could do to stop her, she buckled it behind my head.

“So let’s start over, shall we? I am going to swat your boob 12 times. I want you to count after each one.” Snap!

“Un.” I mumbled around the ball gag. Snap! “Tu.” Snap! “Tee.” By the time we got to twelve, my boob was on fire. The twelfth swat was directly on my nipple. “Telve,” I mumbled.

She moved to my other side and snapped my left boob. “Ouch!” I mumbled.

“Count!” Snap!

“Tu,” I mumbled.

“That’s one. You didn’t count the first one, so it didn’t count.”

“At's tu,” I protested.

Snap. “One,” she said.

“Noooo. At’s Tee.”

Snap. “One.”

“Un.” I repeated, tears forming in my eyes.

Again, twelve was directly on my nipple. My boobs were on fire. She carefully attached clips to my nipples that had weights hanging from little springs. As I moved, the weights bounced up and down and tugged on my already tormented nipples. Then she picked up the cat. She laid it across my sensitive, tormented crotch. Then she walked behind me and slowly dragged it between my legs. I clenched my ass and winced in anticipation of the pain to come.

[FrustratedBinder]

Part 5:

The soft cat of nine tails sizzled through the air and landed across my fanny with a resounding whack. I screeched around the gag and tried to jerk away. This caused the little weights to bounce and tug on my nipples. Miranda had punished my boobs mercilessly with the soft bondage riding crop. The undersides of my boobs had never experienced such torment. Each whack of the riding crop made them jiggle, and the little weights punished my nipples.

Whack! Another blow fell on my fanny. Miranda used her wrist to slap my ass and then dragged the tendrils of the whip across the reddened flesh. Whack! My fanny. Whack! The sensitive skin between my thighs. My legs stiffened, my thighs and buttocks tensed.

Whack! Whack! Whack. My ass was screaming. My boobs felt like they were going to come off. I jerked and bucked, crying around the gag. Somehow, through all this pain, my pussy started to tingle.

Whack! Whack! Whack! She smacked the cat against my thighs until they were red and hot. I strained to pull my hands out of the cuffs so that I could throw off the nipple clamps and hug my bosom for protection.

My convulsive struggles made Miranda laugh, a hard, cruel laugh. What had I done to her to deserve this punishment?!

She moved to my front and removed the nipple clamps. The release of pressure on my nipples made me scream. There was a moment of intense pain and then a feeling of near ecstasy as the blood returned. I let out a loud moan that shook the roof.

Then, with the cat, she swatted my belly. That hurt even more than the paddle on my ass. I tried to arch my back to protect my tummy, but it didn't work. She slapped my belly with the cat until it was just as red and stinging as my back, thighs, and fanny. She ended this assault with four whacks across my bosom. That really made me scream. Tears streamed from my eyes.

Then she put down the cat and picked up an old ping pong paddle. The cat hurt, but the paddle took the sting up two notches. With each smack on my ass and thighs, my whole body bucked, and I screamed, begging for her to stop.

I hung upside down while Miranda swapped her instruments of torment. As I awaited her pleasure, the skin on my whole body, except my arms, stung, and it felt like I had sunburn everywhere.

“Pweez sop!” I begged.

“Do you want me to tickle you now?” I hated being tickled, but I was exhausted, and I stung all over.

“Yes,” I reluctantly admitted.

"I knew I could get you to beg to be tickled." She chuckled. "See, you don't hate to be tickled as much as you thought."

She approached me with a mischievous smile. She held what looked like a crystal clear dildo, and she was rubbing it with KY. She tugged the crotch of my panties to one side and began to insert the crystal dildo into my pussy. It was cold! My lips involuntarily constricted, trying in vain to keep out this invader. I later learned that it is a dildo, and it had been in her freezer where the liquid inside got very, very cold, but did not freeze. This liquid kept it cold for a long time, despite being embedded in my loins. As she pushed it deeper into my vagina, I shivered and tried to jerk away. It was an awful, exciting sensation. All my thoughts were on getting it out. I tried doing Kegels to ease it out, but that only pressed my vaginal skin more tightly around the damned thing. I tried tensing and relaxing my thigh muscles to push it out, but that did nothing. I shivered and whimpered. I begged her to pump it in and out to stimulate my G-spot, but that was not her plan. Slowly, my vagina was going numb from the cold.

Leaving the dildo deeply embedded in my pussy, she sat cross-legged in front of me. Her erect nipples poked through her bra and blouse toward my face, just a few inches from my eyes. That bitch was getting aroused by tormenting me. My God, Miranda was cruel. As I stared in horror and tried to jerk away, her wiggling fingers moved toward my exposed armpits. I struggled frantically for escape. She gave me an evil smile and lightly touched my exposed skin.