Tag Archives: ball gag
The following work is an expansion to my 2014 story “Fashion Faux Pas” and was commissioned by fellow author Jon Smithie (“Slavery 101“, “Mina Berkeley’s Voyage“), whose frequent input to its creation is highly appreciated (as is his patience).
Wardrobe Fail
Did that sick lady actually believe she was into this?!
All blood had drained from Lorena’s face, her stomach been deflated into itself. And still the tautness of her nipple chain led the path along the length of the boilers, past gaggles of pervy party-goers who congratulated Ariane on her latest conquest. Even in her distress Lorena noticed the difference in atmosphere back here. The industrial music was still prominent, yet clearly not aimed at this more private section. Patrons in pairs or small groups were obviously advancing on their voyage to debauchery. Silent assistance in it they were sure to find in the bar maids. She was positive there had been none of them in the main area, thus their services were exclusive for those willing to travel deeper into the iron abyss of the Boiler House. Continue reading
8 Comments | tags: ball gag, BDSM, brank, breath play, dungeon, flogging, hood, nipple clamps, oral pear, pear of anguish, slave girl, spanish donkey, Whipping, wooden pony | posted in Fashion Faux Pas, Wardrobe Fail
The Office Horse
Part Two: The Horse
Immediately she tried to wiggle out of Rob’s grip, yet at the same time seeking hold at him to lift herself off. Her legs stretched out in a wild search for the ground, but more than a span remained between her toes and the carpet, no matter her struggles. Jördis managed to get a hand before and the other behind her, pushing herself up a crucial centimetre.
“Are you fucking mad?! Let me down!”
The edge was painfully digging into her palms. Reuben had repositioned his hold to her shoulders, effectively preventing the girl from throwing herself off the horse.
“Are they always making such a fuss?” Continue reading
13 Comments | tags: ball gag, colleagues, new girl, nipple clamps, office, pain, perineum, secret, spanish donkey, torture, weights, wooden horse, wooden pony, work | posted in The Office Horse
Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)
You are always so good at making lists, Becca!
This is a compliment I hear a lot from colleagues and friends alike. Always meant sincere, it does have a backhanded element to it. It labels me organised, bureaucratic, predictable. Rebecca, the Excel Queen. Rebecca, mind you. Not Bec or Beckie. Not Becca, either. But people are so quick with shortening my name. Just as quick as with making list-related compliments.
A list, then – old-fashioned with pen and paper, in my girly handwriting:
- Restrains, 3 pairs (handcuffs, elbow cuffs, hobbles)
- Latex hood
- Ball gag
- Posture collar
- Nipple clamps
Continue reading
8 Comments | tags: ball gag, Ballet boots, BDSM, butt plug, chastity belt, fetish, handcuffs, hood, latex, leather, mask, office, posture collar, self-bondage | posted in Selfie (a.k.a. Rogue Tie)
Spoiled Rotten
“If you are a real painslut, you will be spoiled rotten tonight.”
I had made it very clear to Portia that the members of my depraved little circle were committed to the darker ways of BDSM. Marks that would last for weeks were a must-have, safewords a no-go. Portia emitted an affirmative grunt from behind the gag. Any intelligible sound was permitted by the huge rubber orb, and nodding would have interfered with my tightening her head harness.
A two inch ball gag would have silenced her nicely. 2.5 inches was her limit. I had gone for a three-incher. The rest of her body would be in tremendous pain within the hour, so why shouldn’t her mouth as well? Alternately I tightened the horizontal main strap and the facial straps running along both sides of her nose and – as one – across the crown of her head. With every tug the ball was pulled deeper into her straining mouth. We were working our way towards total gaggage for several minutes already, and the nude woman kneeling in front of me was experiencing the first cramps. She would get used to them. Continue reading
6 Comments | tags: ball gag, bastinado, BDSM, bondage, extreme, nipple clamps, pain slut, perineum, predicament, reverse prayer, rigger, spanish donkey, wooden horse, wooden pony | posted in Spoiled Rotten
Endurance
Foresightful as I was, I had a small towel at hand as I removed Patrizia’s gag. It was a standard three inch ball gag. Defined by me as standard, that was, because I knew how Triz loathed huge gags. How they put unbearable strain to her jaw muscles. For ball gags – or ring gags not sitting too deep – three inches was the absolute limit she and her talented mouth could take.
Her chin and chest were already glistening with drool, but from experience I knew that a considerably higher amount had gathered behind the semi-sealing gag. My assumption was proven true as I worked the overly large ball out of her mouth and a gush of saliva followed. Hence the towel. Continue reading
6 Comments | tags: ball gag, BDSM, clover clamps, endurance, endurence clamps, harness gag, huge gag, nipple clamps, nipple torture, obedience, obedience training, session, trainer gag | posted in Endurance
Fashion Faux Pas
Bianchetti had always been her first port of call during window shopping, and on today’s spree the exclusive boutique near the city’s financial quarter was confirming its status once again. Behind the glass façade, amidst LBD’s, designer clutches and outré court shoes Lorena discovered the short-sleeved top on one of the highly stylised mannequins. At first glance the item didn’t awake her interest. But then her eyes wandered back, and it intrigued her due to its unusual material. It was made of latex. Continue reading
4 Comments | tags: ball gag, Ballet boots, BDSM, club, codes, endurance clamps, fetish, latex, nipple clamps, party, slave, slave girl, slavegirl | posted in Fashion Faux Pas
Visiting the McIntoshs
He was with her. She knew it. Riona knew the cheating bastard was doing that blonde slut this very second. Like he did for the last couple of weeks.
Working late. That Glasgow project again, you know. Don’t stay up for me.
Standing at the kitchen island, one hand clenched around the stem of her wine glass, she stared into empty space, her jaw set, muscles working. Tightening. Straining. The clock at the far wall of the vast room headed for midnight, finding itself in agreement with the display of the double wall oven. Continue reading
2 Comments | tags: ball gag, ballgag, bondage, crime comedy, erotic humor, erotic humour, home invasion, spoof, tied up, whisky | posted in Visiting the McIntoshs
Dorei
Box
The box had arrived just in time. Nakamura’s two “gentlemen” went to work unloading it as soon as the garage’s roller shutter had closed behind the inconspicuous white delivery van. One of them I knew by name: Tanaka, a ridiculously muscular bloke in an ill-fitting jacket. He was beyond any doubt capable of dragging the box alone. Hence his scrawny new colleague was rather latching onto the wooden crate while it was pulled out of the van. Continue reading
4 Comments | tags: ball gag, Ballet boots, BDSM, bishop gag, catsuit, corset, free story, gag, Japan, latex, posture collar, slavery, story, Yakuza | posted in Dorei