A Thing to Be Used by DpropertyofR
Explore the depths of desire in “A Thing to Be Used” by DpropertyofR. This provocative tale invites you to surrender to your wildest fantasies, wrapped in sensuality and intrigue. Dive into a world where pleasure knows no bounds—are you ready to indulge?
The blindfold prevents me from seeing my surroundings, but the cool sensation of the linoleum floor and porcelain fixtures against my naked skin leave no doubt in my mind that I am in the bathroom. I shift my position a bit for comfort, and I hear the chain attached to my collar clank against the pipes under the sink where it is anchored. I have lost track of how long I have been lying here, but it seems like hours. I want to call out to someone, anyone, but the ball in my mouth prevents me from doing so.
I hear footsteps and familiar male voices in the hallway. The sounds are getting closer. The bathroom door opens with a click, and I hear multiple individuals shuffle in.
“Are you ready, slut?” Master asks.
I nod my head affirmatively. Immediately, I hear the rattling of the chain being detached from my collar. Strong arms grab hold of me and pull me into a standing position. I am slightly wobbly due to the long period of time spent on the floor and my very high stiletto heels. Slowly, I am guided out of the bathroom by the men holding me. Even without the ability to see, I know we are going to our play space.
“Kneel,” Master orders.
The men holding me help me to the floor. With a flourish, the blindfold comes off, and I can now see my predicament. Master is standing over me, flanked by his friends, Sir C and Sir Q. I am kneeling before the modified bed in our play space. I am surrounded by the tools of Master’s trade. There is no doubt in my mind that I am in for an intense experience.
“As you can see, slut, I have brought a couple of friends for you to entertain this evening,” Master begins with a sadistic grin, “You will serve and obey them as you would serve and obey me. Do you understand?”
I nod in assent. All seem pleased. Sir C and Sir Q grab me beneath my elbows and help me to my feet. Master approaches me, rope in hand, and binds my wrists together. Confirming that his handiwork is satisfactory, he turns me toward the bed. The posts of this bed have been modified with eye bolts to allow for me to be bound in a variety of positions. The men gently push me against the nearest bed post and bring my bound wrists above my head. Master threads the free end of the rope through the eye bolt above, pulls the rope taut, and ties a secure knot.
The men step back a bit and admire my bound form. I suddenly feel their hands caressing my tits and ass. Since I am not facing them, I have trouble discerning whose hands are touching which parts of me. A hand is squeezing my right breast and another hand is pinching and flicking my left nipple. I feel a pair hands squeezing and rubbing my ass. I tremble a little and groan behind my ball gag.
Slap! A hand on my ass pulls back and strikes my right buttock. I whimper from the stinging of my skin. This initial slap is followed by a cacophony of slaps to my tits, ass, and face. I sway a bit and pull at the rope binding me, but there is no escape.
Suddenly, I feel a hand seizing each breast roughly, followed by the sensation of cold metal and a violent pinch on my nipples. I am now wearing clover clamps. Someone yanks the chain suspended between the clamps, causing them to tighten even more. I yelp in pain. He pulls the chain upward toward my neck and fastens it to my collar. The clamps are now in a constant state of crushing and pulling at my delicate nipples. I hear myself sobbing softly.
I have no illusions about my ass being spared from pain, but I still feel a wave of shock when lubed fingers force their way inside of me. I cannot help but buck my hips and clench hard on the digits that are invading me.
“Relax, slut!” Sir C orders as he slaps my face.
I take a deep breath and allow the tension in my muscles to release. The fingers in my ass, which I assume belong to Sir C, plunge in and out of me. They spread and stretch me.
“Do you have it ready?” I hear Sir C ask.
“It’s right here,” Master replies.
Sir C removes his fingers. I feel my buttocks being spread and my hole being exposed. The tip of something firm and smooth touches my puckered orifice. I shiver as the object in question is pushed inside of me.
“I think you’ll love this, slut,” Sir C says with a slight chuckle.
The object now planted in my ass is a plug. Cables connect the plug to a palm-sized power box. I feel a sudden, mild jolt as Sir C turns on the power. Electric current is pulsating inside of me. It creates a strange amalgamation of pleasure and pain as the shocks cause my hole to twitch and contract rhythmically. I bite down on my ball gag as Sir C gradually increases the intensity of the pulsations. When he is satisfied that I am being thoroughly tortured by the plug in my ass, Sir C tucks the power box into the top of my thigh high stocking.
With my nipples and ass already throbbing, the men decide to up the ante on my torment. I am barely able to discern from the corner of an eye Master’s arm swinging downward in an arc toward my ass. The flogger connects with my flesh with a mighty thwack that sends me reeling. I barely have time to catch my breath before blow after blow rains down on me. My legs buckle slightly, and I howl in pain. My skin feels hot and stingy. Even as I cry out in pain, I feel my pussy getting wet with excitement.
Turn toward us, slut!” Master demands, “It’s time to beat up that pussy!”
Master hands the flogger to Sir Q. Sir Q smiles as he lightly slaps my pussy with his bare hand. Without warning, he pulls back his hand and brings the flogger up hard against my cunt. I snap my legs together and shriek behind the ball gag.
“Keep your legs open, or we will force them open!” snaps Sir Q.
I sheepishly comply with Sir Q’s command. I fight the urge to reflexively close my legs as Sir Q strikes my pussy over and over. Even so, my juices flow unabated. The scent is being diffused throughout the room. It smells like sex. I can spot the fronts of the men’s trousers bulging threateningly. I throw my head back and cry. Tears are streaming down my face, creating black rivulets of ruined mascara.
“Keep your eyes on me, slut! I want to see your suffering!” Sir Q growls, grabbing the back of my head and tilting it forward.
“I think we should try a more severe implement as punishment for averting her eyes.” Master chimes in.
The men come to an unspoken agreement that I deserve harsher treatment. Master hands Sir Q a rattan cane. With a flick of his wrist, Sir Q brings the cane down on my inner thigh. I scream and jump slightly, pulling at the rope holding me in place. A large, red welt is forming on the spot where the cane connected. It burns. Sir Q continues his onslaught of fiery swats down both of my thighs. I nearly go hoarse from screaming. My face is wet, and my makeup is destroyed. Sir Q pauses to rub his erect cock through his trousers. The fear and suffering in my eyes excites him immensely. In fact, all three men have erections that are straining to be released from their cloth prisons.
I start to plead with the men for reprieve, but my words are garbled and muffled by the gag. Master takes notice of my attempts to speak and pulls the gag down.
“What are you trying to say, slut?!” he demands.
“Please be merciful!” I plead, breathlessly.
“Please be merciful what?!” snaps Sir Q, striking my thigh with the cane once more.
“Please be merciful, Master,” I plead again, mustering all my strength.
“Keep begging, slut!” Master insists.
Pleas for relief tumble from my mouth as I struggle and shake. All three men smile. My agony amuses them. I beg and beg, and when I start to think that my begging is all for naught, Master unties the knot securing the rope to the bedpost. My legs are wobbly and weak. I drop to the floor. Sir C and Sir Q pick me up again, and place me supine on the bed. Master produces more rope. My legs are spread, lifted, and secured by the ankles to the bedposts. My arms are tied above my head at the headboard. I am wide open for whatever these men have in mind for me.
“Look how wet she is!” Sir C exclaims.
The men stand at the bottom of the bed, marveling at my slippery, glistening cunt. I shut my eyes. I am humiliated by this examination, which only serves to highlight how slutty I am.
The men take turns plunging their fingers into me and flicking my clit. I moan, and there is no gag to suppress the sound. I hear the sounds of trousers being unzipped. They are naked and wetting their hands in my cunt and stroking their cocks with the lubrication. Master turns around to grab something. He turns back toward the bed, brandishing a wand vibrator.
Sir C extracts the plug from my ass. He climbs onto the bed and lifts my body just enough to allow himself to slide on his back underneath me. I feel his hard cock press against my anus. I know what’s coming, and I breathe deeply to prepare for it. Sir C drives his cock into my ass fully and forcefully. I begin to cry out, but my cries are stifled when Sir Q kneels next to my head and forces his cock into my throat. The final invasion occurs when Master straddles Sir C’s legs and penetrates my cunt like a man possessed.
I realize Master has a different kind of torture planned for me when he turns on the wand at a low setting. He presses the wand against my clit as he and Sir C thrust inside me. The low vibrations are sufficient to keep me on edge but not enough to make me cum.
The men are fucking me aggressively. I am trapped and helpless. I am reduced to a set of wet holes for their pleasure. I teeter on the edge of orgasm as they bang into me. I want to cum badly. As if he were able to hear my thoughts, Master speaks up.
“You want to cum, don’t you, slut?” he asks, nearly breathlessly, “Well, you’re going to have to beg for that privilege.”
Sir Q pulls his cock out of my throat long enough for me to plead with Master for release. Master smirks and teases my pussy with slow, shallow thrusts. I whine in torment and redouble my pleas to cum. He resumes his hard, rapid pace and increases the speed on the wand.
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