Archive for the ‘Cock & Ball Torture (cbt)’ Category

C’mon beg some more…..

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It’s time for your punishment, you pathetic little whore… But, first, get down on your knees and lick my feet…  Very nice….

Come to me….remove your jeans, your shirt…   Are you completely bare for me?  You know what is expected of you, lie down on your back….get into the position….show me your little penis…  Oh my, what to do with this..

Take it in your hand and stroke it….  Are you ready for your spanking, my little slut boy…hummmmmm…?

As I shove the bar into your mouth, your teeth grab onto it…I do not want to hear you moaning just yet…

I spank you lightly with my crop….you struggle…a small groan escapes your lips…and so I spank you harder…  Stepping on your penis, your bal-lsac….your pelvis thrusting up to your mistress….you try to get it hard….

I see a small drip of precum on the tip of the head….Scoop it up with your finger….taste it….  Now, as I rub my heels deeper…you try so hard to shoot your tiny load….  You have my permission….stroke it….shoot it whore….now….   Little drips…so pathetic, I laugh at you as you struggle to orgasm…  But….I am very pleased!

You have a belly ache…cramps baby…?
We will take care of that in a little while…for now, you may run the bath..
I will get everything ready, make sure there is warm soapy water for your enema treat, whore…

to be continued~

Call MISS Jodi

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Mistress watched from the window of the beach house as the van pulled up. Four men unloaded the equipment and headed down toward the beach, each one excited with anticipation. These were to be her playmates on this glorious day. She checked the tide clock. Right on time, as ordered. She waited almost an hour, then looked out again and saw the youngest man standing on the dune, again as ordered, facing the Sun motionless.

Dressed in a bikini bottom and a light sun robe, Mistress started out toward the beach to see if all was prepared to her liking. She passed the young man on the dune, who dared not peek at her lovely breasts hanging out through the front of her robe. On her private beach, the oriental rug was placed neatly under the canopy. No sand was on it, as ordered, and the shade only covered her rug. The pillows were fluffed. The cooler was set out. The two doorbells placed next to her pillow, wires running into the ground; all as ordered again.

To the right and left of where she would sit, two faces came just inches out of the sand facing the blazing Sun, mouths open at all times, as ordered. Near the water’s edge, where the low tide had started it’s hypnotic rhythm, Mistress needed to check the last head. Her little pig boy was also buried, with his head sticking up from the neck. Unlike the other two, he would need to be able to move around. All three males were cuffed and bound under the sand, then wrapped with masking tape. Escape was impossible. The Mistress approved of the set-up. This day would be a pleasant one, if the wimps did not break down. She poured a margarita from the pitcher into an extra salty rimmed glass and walked down to where the third head was protruding from the shore line.

“Are you thirsty piglet?” She said this smiling, and did not expect a negative answer.

“Yes Mistress”

She gave him some sips, and the flakes of salt left a radom resudue on his lips. Then she went back to the rug, serving the mixture to the other two wimps. They would be thirsty soon. Facing the sun, she could watch them suffer as she read her novel. She mixed a second margarita for herself, savoring it slowly as she read. After a few minutes she lit a large cigar. She didn’t necessarily like them, but the ashes would cake on her entertainment’s tongues after the margarita began to do its job. She sighed and smiled, her beautiful breasts catching the sea breeze and erecting her soft pink nipples. This would be a wonderful day.

Within an hour, the faces at either side were red with sunburn. The mouths, still open at all times, were cracked and caked with the cigar ash. She took the stub of the cigar, and ran it down between the blonde’s eyes on the face to her right. Burning the flesh just a bit on the nose, she brought it down to the sand, about where his navel might be. A pause, then she stuck it into the sand. Yes, she could see the pain in his eyes, and the struggle too as he tried not to show it. The sand would soon snuff it out before too much damage was done.

The Mistress mixed another margarita, and sipped as she read. She put the book down to rest her eyes. Time to test the doorbells. The wires ran into the sand from each bell button. Under the sand, each side had a large dry cell battery that was connected to wires ending in long, metal rods. Each rod had been lubricated, so as to conduct the current better. One was taped into each man’s anal opening. The other was shoved, like a catheter, into his pee hole. By the time she thought about the buttons, the rods incerted in the piss holes were already causing excruciating discomfort. She looked at the redhead to her left, into his burned face, and dry, cracked ashtray mouth. She pushed the button down for 10 seconds. He groaned, then quickly coughed as the ashes swirled in his mouth. She smiled, delighted with her toys. The blonde was next, he almost screamed out and would have if the margarita had not left him so dry. Back and forth she alternated the shocks, watching the eyes of each as she giggled. Finally she became bored, and dropped a long string of spit into each man’s mouth as a reward. They dared not swallow it in her presence.

She checked her watch. She was a little late and timing was important. Mistress arose and sauntered down toward her piglet. When she reached him, she took out a blindfold and covered his eyes, not out of mercy but to deny him the view of her beauty. She slipped off her bikini bottom, and crouched near the pig’s gaping mouth. Out came a stream of urine from the Margaritas she had drank. The Mistress pissed all over his face but mostly into his mouth, savoring the beautiful seascape as she used her portable toilet. He swallowed as best he could, almost gasping at times. As she squatted there, she watched the waves as high tide approached. She raised herself up, as one strong wave crashed on the sand several yards in front of her toilet, and it’s remains tickled piglet’s neck before retreating. The Mistress smiled, as piglet choked on the last of her nectar. She started back to the house. The man on the dune was ordered not to move until she closed her door. Then he would race to free piglet from a tidal drowning. She stopped, however, forgetting the time. She stared into the man’s face, then viciously scratched down his hideously burned chest. He winced, but nothing more.

“Very good. No reaction.” She said.

Then the Mistress reached down between his legs, and caressed his cock while allowing her nipples to lightly touch his scratched chest. His cock sprung to life quickly. A reaction! Disobedience. She raised a knee quickly into his groin and left him in a groaning pile. She hoped he could recover in time to race to the beach and save her little piglet from drowning. He was such a good toilet for her. But, he could not check piglet until she went into the house. She thought she heard a panicked scream from the beach. She stopped, and smell the flowers in her window box, glanced up at the brilliant sky, twirled around with her arms outstretched in love with nature. She did not hear another cry. She went inside, closing the door very, very slowly. The man got up and raced, stumbling in pain, to the beach.

When my slave arrived, I ordered him to strip naked and crawl to the hallway under the staircase. Many people have cupboards there, but I don’t. The space is occupied by a sturdy wooden dining chair with square arms and a cane seat. I took the cord I had earlier placed beside the chair, tied his wrists together, and told him to stretch his bound arms up as high as he could so I could tie his wrists to the bannisters above his head. I took a broom handle from below he chair, and ordered him to stand with his feet apart and kneeling down. I tied first one, then the other ankle to the ends of the broom handle, spreading his legs apart as far as they would go. “I’m not quite satisfied yet” I whispered in his ear, delighting in the look of apprehension now on his face.

Producing a second broom handle, I pushed his knees apart and again tied the handle between them, leaving his cock and balls fully exposed, and slave richard helpless. He told me he was uncomfortable and wanted to bring his knees together a bit. I laughed at him… “Do you think I really care about your comfort? In fact, I don’t want to hear the sound of your whining at all”. I again reached under the chair for two scarves. The first I pushed into his mouth, filling it completely, and the second I tied round his jaw as a gag, keeping the first scarf firmly in place. “Now I have you where I want you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it and no way you can call out”.

It was true. he was helpless and vulnerable. I had one more touch to add to his bindings – I produced a final scarf and tied it around his eyes – My power over him was complete. I did not speak to him again, but picked up the telephone. “He’s ready now”, I said, and five minutes later, an eternity to slave richard, there was a knock on the front door. Even with his gag and blindfold I could see that he was horrified, stretched naked and helpless in the hallway. He could only hear my voice and, to his humiliation, three others, all Female. “He’s not much to look at, but here he is and you can do anything you like with him. We have all night”.

slave richard looked terrified but his cock was erect as he sensed the women surrounding him, looking at him as they would a small insect they were about to squash under their heel. Their silence made the moment even more tense. He felt hot breath on one of his nipples – Mistress 2 blew on his chest. There was breath on his cock, his stomach, his neck, frustrating as there was no relief from the teasing. We ran our hands over him, caressing, teasing, exciting but never satisfying. His cock strained and bobbed as his excitement built, but his fun was soon to end.

Simultaneously our hands stopped their work and Mistresses 4 grabbed his balls hard, while I pulled apart the cheeks of his ass and pushed a vibrator in roughly, violating him to the depths of his body. Knowing better than to cry out, slave richard made pathetic mewling noises beneath his gag. “Time to fuck, I think”. The others agreed, I withdrew the vibrator and Mistress 3 pulled his ass cheeks open again. slave richard could feel something bigger pushing against him. “This is a strap-on cock” said Mistress 2. “It is bigger than your tiny tool, is harder, and will never go soft. Do you like fucking?” Of course slave richard could not answer. He could not even clench the sides of his arse together to stop the penetration. Two of the Mistresses held his shoulders Mistress 2 pushed the plastic cock deep into his body and started moving backwards and forwards, faster and faster, but his humiliation was not yet complete.

I struck him across his nipples, causing him to tense and moan. Again and again he heard the swish as the cane struck his thighs, stomach, cock, balls. His ordeal was lengthy. As one Goddess tired of fucking him, so the strap-on was passed around, and so was the cane. slave richard hung from his bonds, helpless, violated, in pain and at the mercy of four Women. Finally we stopped his torment and removed his gag and blindfold. “Beg for mercy” I commanded.

“I beg Mistress, I beg…” he sobbed.

“Do you acknowledge the error of your past life and swear to treat women with supreme respect for the remainder of your miserable life?”. He swore as I demanded, broken and wiser. Freeing his hands, I ordered him to masturbate in front of the Mistresses, while they mocked his inferior endowment. Falling to the ground, he kissed My feet and the feet of the other Goddesses, thanking us for his punishment.

She has mentioned a few things that she’s always wanted to do but hadn’t yet.

I told her I would do them (of course) and one in particular made me wince but at the same time eager to do it. Eager to be the first, eager to give her something nobody else had. I find myself desperate to make her fantasies come true. Even something that scares me.

Maybe a little bit of it is to prove my adoration, but most of it is to please her, to give her something she hasn’t had yet, to know that she can use me for whatever she wants.

Tonight, one of those things happened.

I was…ok bear with me because this sounds like something out of a porno but then again, so much of what she and I have done sounds like it comes out of a porno. A very high budget, well written porno.

I was in her kitchen, naked, doing the dishes and wearing a collar and a brand new ball-stretcher (2.5 inches). After I finished I asked if I could eat and she offered me some leftovers she had delivered.

“Oh, wait”, she said with a wicked smile, “give me your cock-head”.

I knew what was coming, it was one of those things I had winced about. One of those things she had always wanted to do and now she was going to do it.

She reached among the leftover burger and fries and grabbed a jalapeno pepper, tore out a small chunk of it and slowly slid it inside my urethra so just a small piece was visible.

What happened next was a blur. A very painful blur.

At first I was hard, hard because it felt a little warm but mostly hard because I could see how much it turned her on.

It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and she had a very big smile on her face.

“Do you want it out?”

“Yes!” I stammered

“Then you’ll have to cum it out”.

I had serious doubts if I would be able to or not but the next thing I knew, I was on my knees, jerking this burning piece of flesh between my legs

I was close, I could have came right then but at that moment her best friend came out of the bathroom, she had been dying her hair and came out to see what all the commotion was about.

“God I love coming over to your house!” she exclaimed as she saw me kneeling and jerking off in front of her smiling friend.

“Should I let him come?” my owner asked her best friend

“No”

“Fuck”, I thought. I was so close, I wanted so badly to come, more from the desire to expel that evil evil pepper, than to experience an orgasm.

I stopped and the pain began to increase even more. The burning became unbearable and I started to shake and whimper.

“My poor baby, do you want me to make it stop?” she asked.

“Yes…” deep breath, wince, whimper “please” and she ran off to grab some yogurt from the kitchen, I think she asked me where it was in the fridge but I was in no condition to answer.

Moments later she was rubbing yogurt into my urethra and I could feel it starting to cool but not enough. Her best friend returned with a bowl of milk and I was told to “dip your dick in the milk”.

I did.

I felt like Yosemite Sam dropping his ass into a barrel of water after Bugs had just lit him on fire.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It wasn’t over though.

She made me hold that position for ten minutes. My muscles aching as though I was in some convoluted yoga position. As I breathed heavily and moaned, she would kiss me and stroke my hair.

Oh and she took photos.

That was about an hour ago. She asked me to write about it and so here I am, naked, still a bit numb, laying on the floor next to her couch as she pets my back and occasionally steps on my balls and smiles at me.

Sometimes, when you get what you wish for, it’s better than you imagined.

Mistress answered the front door of Her north Dallas home with a twinkle in Her beautiful eyes. She smiled sweetly as we met — I was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, while She was sheathed in a form-fitting pair of faded jeans and a small camouflage cutoff shirt that showed off more than it concealed. My mind struggled to wrap itself around Her beauty. She was stunning.

All the usual clichés flew through my mind — beautiful, wonderful, heavenly, etc. Hers is a dangerous beauty, I realized, one that lures quickly and captures easily. It doesn’t sneak up on you; it hits you right between the eyes. She knows this, of course. She calls Herself “Goddess”, and She wears the term as well as Her jeans.

She led me upstairs to a bedroom/play room, tastefully decorated and quite comfortable. I am a 30-year-old man with a Big Ten college education, but I could only dumbly gape and nod at Her.

She said I had permission to speak freely, and we went over some common-sense rules, guidelines and then on to my likes and dislikes. My likes include CBT (clothespins, wax, whipping, etc.), teasing and denial, bondage (especially handcuffs and legcuffs), corporal punishment, leash-and-collar games and gags. Those certain feelings of anguish, humiliation and helplessness are what I am usually after. I have never understood it in myself, but I’ve learned to accept it and embrace it.

Under questioning, I told Mistress that I have an open mind to other activities such as feminization, which I have never tried. She nodded approvingly at each of my statements, but Her eyes especially seemed to twinkle when discussing teasing and denial. She promised to make me suffer, and I began to be afraid it was a promise She would keep.

I did not have long to wait. While She left the room to change, I was ordered to strip and find her picture in a DDI magazine on a sofa table in front of me. I was also told to make sure I was standing at attention (and I don’t mean on my feet) BUT NOT A DROP was allowed to be released. I did all of this.

When She returned, She was still wearing the cutoff shirt that flaunted Her belly, and my heart leapt. There is just something about a woman’s navel that I have always found thrilling. I read an article once about it, and some sex expert suggested that the female belly button was so erotic because it’s right between the good stuff. Sounds about right to me.

I was quickly ordered to the floor, on my hands and knees. A chain was slipped around my neck, and a full-head gag was fitted snugly to my head. She strode into the hallway and led me along. I remember making an extra effort to follow quickly and make sure there was plenty of slack on the leash. I have always thought that when a leash is taut, that indicates resistance or slowness, but a leash with slack is a small but nice little touch that shows extra-special servitude.

I was led into the bathroom and ordered to sit on the closed toilet seat, and my hands were chained behind me. There was enough slack for me to touch myself, however, so I ducked my hands tightly behind my back and hoped She would approve of this. Mistress explained that She had a small cold, and needed to take a bath. My heart fluttered again… and then plummeted when She showed off the blindfold I would be wearing. She relished this moment, and the first of many bolts of pain coursed through me.

The blindfold was slipped on, and She slipped into the bathtub. She described Her bath, flicking water at me and drinking in my moans and soft struggles. My suffering was starting to kick in, and She knew it. “And we’re just starting”, She reminded me.

Without thinking, I tried to peer underneath the blindfold. “Ah-ah,” She cooed. “If you’re not good, you won’t get the surprise I have for you.” I did not know whether to dread this or yearn for it. I found out soon enough, when She lifted the blindfold to let me watch Her towel off. Suddenly, I was being allowed to look at a goddess — but that was all I could do, since my hands were wearing chains. I whimpered. She purred. “This must be terrible for you,” She said, and I offered a moan in reply.

It got worse — She modeled Her Victoria’s Secret bras in front of me, reveling in my helplessness and asking rhetorical questions She knew I could not answer. She eventually chose a gold bra and panties. My eyes must have showed a blend of intense longing and deep, aching pain, Her eyes simply showed joy. Then it was back to the bedroom, where I got a quick but passionate spanking over Her knee for trying to sneak around the blindfold. I was bent over a horse next, and got several cuts with a whip to reinforce the same lesson.

Dazed, reeling, still at full attention and still aching, I was then herded into a corner, where Mistress ordered me to take myself to the brink of orgasm three times — with no release — while she left the room briefly. Before leaving, She explained that She wanted me to understand “the two P’s” – Privilege, and Punishment. I would be experiencing both, She told me.

I don’t know how, but I followed Her no-orgasm orders. When She returned, She was feeling festive and this meant it was time for me to dangle. She hoisted my arms over my head and fixed my wrists to a chain. By itself, this wasn’t so bad. But then came the clothespins — several of them, all over, and then She reclined on the bed to watch me struggle and ache.

It was exquisite. My helplessness was complete. My pain was real. My frustration was overwhelming. And before me, a goddess was relaxing and radiant. She invited me to come over and feel Her. I tried but found the restraints were quite secure. She teased me. “What’s the matter, why aren’t you coming?” She asked sweetly. But I could not. I could only suffer in front of Her.

After She mercifully decided I had had enough, she yanked the clothespins off rapidly, sending even more pain shooting through me. She released me and re-invited me to approach Her on the bed. This time I scrambled over as fast as I could.

She produced a bottle of lotion and spread a few drops on Her creamy leg. It was my duty to rub it in, and I did so while scarcely believing the privilege I was being granted. There are simply no words to describe Her skin. The best lines penned by Shakespeare cannot hold a candle to the feeling.
The privilege was increased as I was allowed to go further up Her leg, and accompany my massages with kisses. This I did eagerly, passionately — but slowly. I was determined not to be one of those simple-minded and single-minded men who do not pay proper attention to their lady. If I was going to be given the chance to kiss a goddess, I was not going to do it carnally, but sensually, with proper reverence and attention paid to Her.

This passed all too soon. I was ordered to lie on the bed, and Mistress secured my wrists to the bedframe and fixed my ankles with a spreader. I had never worn a spreader before, and the feeling was delightful. She slipped a blindfold on me and left the room again, leaving me to wallow in the recipe of anguish and denial She had brewed.

She came back in a white bra and panties, which were both lit up by the room’s backlighting. She produced a new toy, a vibrating teaser that She danced over my body. It flickered and flew, dived and swooped, and with it came a new definition of suffering I never knew before. I writhed, heaved and gasped. I stammered how much I hoped my suffering was amusing Her.

She snapped off the vibrating device and left me at the edge. As She was releasing my hands, I could not help but stare at Her panties, and She softly chided me for this. But even more agonizing was the tantalizing moment when She stretched across me to reach my other hand. I couldn’t help gazing at Her bra, and I couldn’t help the kiss that escaped my lips and caressed Her breast. I had to. I did not know when, or if, I would ever be this close to a goddess again.

“Behave yourself”, She chided again, and followed up her statement with a whack from a whip by the bed. That sent me scurrying into the shower, where I was ordered to submit to three minutes of freezing water before getting dressed. The blast of water was so cold it took the air out of me, but just as I reached for the faucet I heard Her say that I wasn’t allowed to turn off the water until She said so. The three minutes soon passed, but my erection did not.

When I was cleaned and dressed, I cleaned the gag in the bathroom. When Mistress returned, I was given permission to speak freely and I thanked Her profusely. We chatted for a while, and as we did so, the pain within me slowly leveled to a dull ache.

But it didn’t go away, and even as I write this three days later, I can still feel it. I am captured more tightly than by any chain or rope. The bonds aren’t visible, but they are real. They are there.

Mistress taught me “the two P’s” that day, but I also learned much more. I learned a new world of pain and slavery. I learned what a goddess looks and feels like. But more than anything, I learned the meaning behind that old ancient curse… “A beautiful woman is the Paradise of the eyes, the Purgatory of the purse… and the Hell of the soul.”