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                                 MrWade/mrwade55
                                    Master Wade
                          MRWADE= Julia's Begging, Part Six
                                                        More from Julia
                   The  basement  room  couldn't  fairly be called a dungeon, I don't
              suppose,  for  it  was  brightly  lit  and  warm.   The  floor was even
              carpeted,  mainly  I  think  because  Master  likes  me on my knees and
              doesn't  like  for  my legs to be scratched up.  But it had many of the
              accoutrements  of  a  dungeon, a whipping post, a spanking bench, rings
              on  one  wall  to  which  he sometimes tied me, and a wall covered with
              instruments   of   torture   which  he  knew  how  to  use  with  great
                                           effectiveness.
                   There  were various short posts that he had implanted in the floor
              of  the  room  which  he  could use to tie my limbs or the limbs of his
              other  slaves to from time to time and for various reasons.  At one end
              of  the room was a mattress which had four such posts around it, one at
              each  corner.   Under  the  mattress  Master  had  installed the piston
              portion  of a hydraulic lift, which when activated pushed the center of
              the  mattress  up  into the air.  It was, I think, the feature of which
                              he was most proud, and he often used it.
                   The  whipping  post  was  one  of  the basement support posts, but
              Master  had  installed  wrist  cuffs just above the level of my head on
              the  post and had also situated two smaller posts on either side of the
                             support to which he often bound my ankles.
                   The  spanking  bench  brought  a  mixture  of  emotions to me as I
              looked  at  it  with  remembrance.   It was shaped somewhat like a saw-
              horse  used  in  construction work, but it had a semi-round leather pad
              across  the top of it which was padded just enough to make laying on it
              relatively  comfortable.   The  four  legs of the bench stood away from
              the  center  bar  at  angles  and had wrist and ankle cuffs attached to
              them.   The  length  of the bench was such that when Master attached me
              to  it  my  head  was hanging over one end and my cunt was right at the
              other  end.   Just  below the place where my cunt would be was attached
              an  old  coffee  can  which  Master put there to collect the juice that
              flowed  from  my  hole  when I was bound there.  I had drunk deeply and
              often  from that can and felt sure that I would drink from it many more
              times.   The bench was at once the most exciting part of the room to me
                        and at the same time the part I feared most as well.
                   As  I  looked around the room I noticed that some changes had been
              made  since  my last visit.  Master saw my eyes open widely as I looked
                                 at them and explained their usage.
                   "The  four rings you see suspended from the ceiling can be used to
              hang  your  slut  body  in  nearly  any  position I choose, Julia.  The
              protrusion  under  them  is  yet another ram, much like the one that is
              under  the mattress which can be used to support your body at strategic
              places  if I so desire, among other things.  It will extend nearly five
              feet  into the room and is capable of accepting numerous attachments at
              its  uppermost  end.  You have read of something quite similar to it in
              the  Linda  Chronicles,  which  as  you  may  remember  was  used  with
                   terrifying effectiveness.  Come to me and let me look at you."
                   The  trembling  my  body  had been doing as I had entered the room
              had  been  nothing  compared to what was happening now.  I was far from
              cold,  but  I had goosebumps all over my body and my legs and arms were
              shaking,  my  teeth  chattering noticably.  I walked over to Master and
               stood before him as he sat in the soft leather chair and looked at me.
                   He  ran  his  fingers  over  my  upper thighs lightly, feeling the
              goosebumps  which  were  so  prominently  evident.  "You have beautiful
              legs,  Julia.   It's no wonder to me that every man who sees them wants
              to  stick  his  meat  inside  you,  nor  that every bi-woman who gets a
              glimpse  wants  her  face  between  them.  Your slut tits are also well
              formed   and   your   nipples   grow   nicely  rigid  with  the  proper
                          stimulation.  Turn around and show me your ass."
                   I  turned  slowly,  letting him observe every portion of my nearly
              naked  body.  I wobbled slightly as one of the high heels caught in the
                                      nap of the thick carpet.
                   "Your  ass  is  nicely rounded and unmarked other than some carpet
              marks  from  your  having laid on the floor in the living room for your
              recent  fist-fucking.   The  backs of your thighs are wonderful and the
              stockings  just  the  right  length.   Remind  me to make you wear this
                garter belt when you fuck Jim next time, he will like it very much."
                   I  felt  like  such  a  slut  to  be  standing  there  with Master
              commenting  on my body in such a way.  It was very much as if he were a
              doctor  examining  me,  except that he tied every comment into a sexual
              act  of  some  kind.  I was beginning to drip again and I knew he would
                                  soon be able to smell my pussy.
                      "Go lay on the mattress on your stomach, slut", he demanded.
                   I  walked slowly to the mattress, aware of the moisture between my
              legs  and the swaying of my hips as I walked in the heels.  I knew that
              Master  was looking at my ass as I walked away from him and that he was
              probably  thinking  about  what  he would do to it.  As I thought about
                    that I began to doubt that I would work the next day either.
                   Master  connected  the  wrist  and  ankle cuffs, spreading my legs
              opened  widely.   Moving  to  the  switch on the wall, he activated the
              hydraulic  ram  under  the  mattress and I soon felt it lifting me into
              the  air  until  the cuffs were pulling at my extremeties.  I was still
              totally  supported by the mattress, but by body was bent in the middle,
                                  my ass stuck high into the air.
                   I  heard the familiar sound of the leather razor strop popping and
              knew  immediately  what  was  going to happen next.  Master always bent
              the  thick  leather  strop  over  and  snapped  it tightly, letting the
              leather  slap against itself.  He said he enjoyed the sound and that it
              warmed  the  leather  up  when  he  did  that.   For  me, the sound was
              terrifying  and  startling,  but it still made my pussy get even wetter
              every  time I heard it.  It had never felt cold to me, either, that was
                                             for sure.
                   His  aim was perfect on the very first swing of the heavy leather,
              striking  me  across  both  ass  cheeks  with  a  resounding  "SLAP!!".
              Usually,  my Master varied the timing of his swings so that I was never
              quite  sure  when  I  would  feel the leather against my ass again, but
              this  time he swung the razor strop contiuously and quickly, popping my
              naked  ass  a minimum of thirty times a minute.  I can't be sure, but I
              think  I  recieved  over  150  strappings  with  the  strop  before  he
              stopped.   The  only  thing  I  knew for sure was that he would recieve
              absolutely  no  argument  from  me  the remainder of the day, no matter
                                     what he chose to do to me.

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                   Rather  than  carrying  me  to another position as he usually did,
              Master  made me struggle to my feet and walk to the spanking bench.  It
              was  all  I could do to move, and I know it took me much longer than he
              would  have  liked  to  get  to  the  bench,  but I did the best that I
              could.   My  ass  was  on  fire, both with pain and with passion, and I
              could  feel  that  familiar feeling in my cunt that I only get when I'm
              being  disciplined.  I've come to need that feeling, I know I have, and
              in  spite  of the pain that the whippings and spankings give me I can't
              help  wanting  it.   As  I  lowered  my body to the cool leather of the
              spanking  bench I heard the first drop of cunt juice land in the coffee
                 can, and I knew it would be quite full before Master was through.
                   The  wrists  and  ankle  cuffs were attached as usual.  Actually I
              doubt  that  Master really had to bind me.  In the beginning he had to,
              as  I often struggled to free myself.  Now I needed the pain as much as
              he  needed  to  give it to me, but the bindings did serve to protect me
              from  injury as I squirmed and I think we both also needed them for the
                                arousal value that they had for us.
                   He  kept  me bound to the spanking bench for over an hour and used
              a  variety of instruments on my ass cheeks and the upper portions of my
                 thighs.   First  was  the  ,  a  big wooden affair that warmed me
              nicely  and  yet  never  left  a mark.  Next he used the thick gun-belt
              that  he  seemed  to  enjoy  even  more  than the razor strop.  Then he
              changed  to  a  thinner  and  not as heavy leather strap which began to
              leave  whelps  on  my skin.  I could feel the skin on my ass and thighs
              drawing  up  tightly  as the whelps formed and my skin became even more
              sensitive  and  the pain grew constantly.  In between the bolts of pain
              I  could  hear  the  dripping  of my slut juice into the can beneath my
                                               hole.
                   When  he  tired  of  using  my  ass  on the spanking bench, Master
              unbound  me  and made me kneel in front of him and drink the juice that
              I  had  dripped  into  the  coffee  can.  Nothing made me feel any more
              submissive  than  to  drink fuck juice that had run from my hole simply
              because  I  was  being spanked.  Its one thing to get hot from thinking
              about  a  dick, but something else to get hot because one is being used
                      like a slave.  I never drip that much because of cocks.
                   When  I had downed the can of cunt juice Master led me over to the
              new  rings  he  had just recently installed.  This especially terrified
              me,  because  of  my knowledge of what was done to the poor slave Linda
              in  those  stories.   I began to beg Master not to use me in the rings,
              but  he  simply  smiled and began talking about the nasty things that I
              had  done  that day.  He reminded me that if I had been able to control
              my  sluttish  urges that he would probably be fucking me with cucumbers
                                rather than whipping my naked skin.
                   Luckily  for me, Master only intended to suspend me by my arms and
              legs  with  the  rings  and did not plan to install rings in my nipples
              and  cunt  lips  as  Master  Paul had done with Linda.  Many times when
              Master  would  send me to masturbate I would think  about the rings she
              had  in her nipples and cunt and would come strongly, but I had no real
              desire  to  actually  be  faced  with  that kind of pain.  That was one
                              thing better left to the fantasy world!
                   He  ran  my  arms  through two of the rings and slid the other two
              rings  over  my  ankles  and  up  to  a  point just above my knees.  He
              activated  a  switch which he removed from its position on the wall and
              the  rings tightened against my arms and legs and began lifting me to a
              spreadeagled,  horizontal  position,  with me facing the floor.  With a
              solid  click  the  chains from which I hung swung into position and yet
              another  motor  began  to  whir.   I  felt  my legs being spread opened
              further  and  the motor continued to run until I felt as if my cunt was
              going  to  be  pulled  nearly apart and then stopped suddenly.  Looking
              underneath  my  outstretched  body I watched as Master set the recently
              emptied  coffee  can  on  the  floor beneath me.  He held it there long
              enough  for the the first drip to fall and then repositioned it so that
              it  would  catch every bit of the fuck that ran from my submissive slut
                                             fuck hole.
                   My  mouth  was wet with fear and arousal and I could feel the cool
              air  blowing  against my sweaty body and the presperation dripping from
              my  hard  nipples.   I turned my head to the right to watch Master take
              the  whip from the wall and cringed as I thought about the sting of the
                    thick leather tip on the whelps that already covered my ass.
                   Instead  of using the whip on my already burning ass, Master began
              working  it  against  my  feet,  which  at  least  were  afforded  some
              protection  by  the stockings which covered them.  In no time, however,
              the  nylon  was  shredded  and  the  leather  began  to  strike my skin
              directly.   He  moved the whip over my legs, tearing the nylon from the
              my  calves and then from my lower thighs as he moved up my body.  I was
              suddenly  aware  of the extent to which I had displeased my Master, due
              to  this  violation  of  his  general rule not to mark the legs that he
              loved  so  much.   He  continued  whipping  me, marking and whelping my
              upper  thighs  on  both  the  top  and the bottoms of them.  Tears were
              streaming  from my eyes now, but even more copious were the juices that
              ran  from  my hole and fell into the can beneath me.  I began to climax
              as  the  whip lashed against my already marked ass and struggled in the
              bonds  as huge waves of passion swept over my outstretched and swinging
              body.   The  whipping  continued  on  through my orgasm and it was only
              when  the passion had subsided that he allowed the whip to move from my
                ass on up my back and, using underhanded swings, against my stomach.
                   Upward  he  moved,  not hesitating to use the leather whip against
              my  naked  breasts  and  concentrating  with evil accuracy on my tender
              nipples.   The attack on my tits brought me to yet another orgasm, even
              more  powerful  than  the  others,  and  I  began  to moan continuosly,
                         thanking my Master for using me as only he could.
                   Finally  the  whipping  ended  and  Master  moved to the wall once
              again.   I  was  dying  to  have something inside my hole.  Never had I
              been  so hot, and I needed fucking more than I had ever needed it in my
              life!   The  whippings and the accompanying orgasms, rather than making
              me  feel  less  sexual  were  turning me on even more, and I would have
              fucked  anything  that had a dick at that very moment.  Master hung the
              long  leather whip back on the wall and took the cane down, snapping it
              against  his  leg  sharply as he walked over to me once again.  I heard
              him  chuckle  softly  and  realized that he was amused by the amount of
              juice  I  had  leaked  into the can already.  What I could not tell was
              that  the can was over half-way full already, and that Master would not
                                stop until the can was running over.to More Bondage &Domination Sex Stories
                                                  
                                                  

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