Learning 3 | free bondage story

I was attended to again in my dungeon. The sharp edge was removed from under my knees, making the hard stone of the floor seem almost soft. My posture collar was removed. My legs were unbound, allowing them to flex for the first time in at least four days. The muscles screamed as blood rushed back into them, and I whimpered in silence. Once again, I could tell Adam was making a pony tail and, after a few minutes of rest, he lifted my legs back up. This time, however, he pulled on my ponytail until my head was arched back again, then tied thin straps laced in my hair to my big toes. After he released me like this, I could feel something pushing against my back. Two dull spikes were cranked against my middle back, slowly forcing me to arch my back even more to reduce the pain. As I arched, he retied the straps to my toes, taking up any slack, until my body was harshly bent into a severe U shape. He fumbled with the dildo pole for a moment, to what purpose I couldn't tell, then attached something around my waist and between my legs. I could feel a small device resting against my clit, and quickly realized it was a vibrator. He then fed me again, and after re gagging me, left.

For a second I remained frozen, afraid to move against the spikes, trying to come to terms with the burning pain that had already started in my lower back. When the vibrator turned on, it made me jump, which was a painful motion. But the attention to my clit was enough to wash away all pain. I immediately began to orgasm, delirious from passion. But just as I was about to climax, the vibrator stopped. I screamed into the ceiling in frustration.

For hours the sequence repeated itself, until I was hoarse from my screams of frustration and pain. After the fifth time, my clit had become incredibly sensitive, and now the stimulation was both exciting and painful. The two began to merge, and the pain became as much as a motivation as the stimulation. Animal passion took over and I tried to ride the dildo to bring myself to orgasm. But as I flexed up and down, ignoring the spikes grinding into my back, I realized I was no longer moving the dildo in and out of my ass. With a cry of despair, I realized that Adam had adjusted the pole to ride with me. As I fought with the emotion of this discovery, the vibrator turned on again.

After two days, I no longer cared. Despite the multitudes of times the vibrator brought me close to orgasm, I was never allowed to release, and the pain of this rivaled even the intense pain of my contorted back, or my bent neck. When Adam returned, I felt a wave of submission cover me, desperate to do anything for this, my Master.

"Slave, I'm going to pierce you now," he said. The thought scared me, but only in a distant way. My mind seemed to understand that this is how a slave would be treated. Either way, I could show no sign either way. He neither removed my bondage nor lessened it. Instead, I felt him press a needle against my left nipple, and the force it through. My head exploded from the pain. For what seemed like hours he continued punching holes in my body. My consciousness faded in and out. I could tell he had pierced my nipples three times each, the hardware there adding to the humiliation I already wallowed in. I could just feel the presence of the metal weighing my nipples down, but my mind had trouble focusing on anything but my desire to submit. I cold feel him touching my face, and soon I felt metal being pushed up my nose. Just as I figured out what he intended, the metal clamped down hard on my septum and a wave of indescribable pain coursed through my mind. I could hear myself scream behind the gag, but my own consciousness cut it off, as I passed out.

When I woke, I could feel an ebbing ache on my face. To my surprise, my gag was removed, but I was unable to move my tongue. Something was holding it extended from my mouth, and I could tell he had put several holes through it as well. My upper lip could feel the weight of a ring that now dangled from my nose. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. In one of our many discussions about our interests, I had made it clear how I never wanted a nose ring. The thought alone was far too humiliating. Now, I had one, and another small part of myself slipped away.

I could tell there was more coming, but Adam was waiting for something. For a second, there was just silence, as I shifted again, trying to find a way to adjust to the strenuous position. Suddenly, the vibrator activated again, and I moaned out loud. My clit was engorged from the nearly constant, two day stimulation, and any contact both hurt and excited me. I could feel my blindfold growing damp again from my own tears, and despite the way my tongue was being held, I tried to beg for release. The words were gibberish, but I tried anyway, desperately willing to do anything to stop the torture. But once again, it continued, drawing me toward orgasm, but now an orgasm that bore no resemblance to a thing of pleasure. To me, the final release was an unreachable goal, and the stimulation that brought me closest the worst pain a person could bear.

I could feel my heart quickening; my breath came in rapid pants through my punished nostrils, as my body began to respond. But as I neared an orgasm, the vibrator shut off again, and I broke into sobbing tears once again, knowing I would never be allowed to rest.

I could feel Adam removing the vibrator. My body tensed for the pain, and as I felt the needle press against my nub, I began to cry again. As the needle punctured my clit, I screamed again, in a combination of pain and humiliation. The pain itself had betrayed me, sending me into an orgasm that stole consciousness from me. The final realization, as I slipped from consciousness, was that Adam had stolen even this last orgasm from me. I passed out as the needle exited the other side, and Adam slipped the ring through the hole.

Before my time in the basement, I had agreed to be a slave for six months. I'm not sure what came over me. After my stint as a forced prostitute, I thought I had gone too far. I vaguely remember being released from my position in the hotel room, being carried to bed at home, and falling to sleep. My dreams were confused and blurry, my mind having trouble deciding what was real and what was a fantasy. Waking failed to help at first. The bedroom had been covered in lacy white drapes, and the bed itself was soft and white, plush and comfortable. As I woke and turned over for the first time, I felt a tug on my neck. Reaching up, I found a wide, seamless steel collar fit snuggly on me. Seemingly made for me exactly, the collar held me more firmly than I could imagine. The only break I could find in the surface was the heavy ring dangling from the front, and the heavy chain connected to it. Following it with my hands, I found it locked to a ring mounted in the wall beyond the head of the bed. Otherwise, I was naked.

Though I was restricted to the bed by my collar, I didn't seem to care. I fell back to sleep again, and my dreams seemed to settle down.

A week later, I felt almost normal. Adam treated my bizarre experience as a whore as just another adventure, speaking of it like a fun game we had shared. I tried to do the same, but each reminder of my time in that room reminded me just how low I had fallen. Soon, even Adam got tired of talking about it, and as he let it go, I found I could, too. But soon after that time, he opened up a new subject that I wasn't sure I wanted to discuss.

"So, remember when we talked about you being my slave for a period of time?" It seemed like years ago, but had only been a couple months.

"I remember," was all I could say.

"Well, I wanted you to start thinking about that again."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea we talk about that now. Can you give me some time?" Adam nodded, letting it go. Though he had dropped it then, the next few weeks were careful engineering on his part. He didn't expose me to anything too bizarre, focusing on only the more sensitive, delicate side of our relationship. We almost felt like a normal couple, going on dates, spending quiet times together, even walking on a beach. After the first two weeks, even I was getting bored. By the fourth week, I found myself bringing up the subject of kink again.

"I know I wanted some time, but I didn't want you to stop everything," I said, teasing him.

"Ok, but I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm ok." We were at home, reading by a fire, my cold feet tucked under his leg. He set his book down, stroking my leg.

"Maybe we should talk a little more about what you want."

"That's a good idea." I dove right in. " I have to admit that I like the idea of being your slave, Adam. You've certainly shown me just what submission can be. When I dream of things like this, I find myself losing control, being taken farther than I even want to. I figure if we do just what I want, then it won't be true submission. Besides, I do enjoy some humiliation. The feeling of being totally exposed, totally used, gets me so excited I can barely control myself."

"Maybe you should tell me what you don't want."

"Well, I certainly don't want to lose any limbs с permanently," I laughed, knowing he wouldn't go that far, or at least I thought. "I wouldn't want to be permanently damaged, but long term bondage or restriction would be interesting."

"How about body modifications?"

"Like what?"

"Well, like waist training, breast enlargement, piercingsЦ"

"I think that's fine. I've always wanted to experience waist training, and I can't imagine slightly larger breasts would be a problem. Piercings are one of my fantasies, so that is fine." I could see a glint in his eye again. I must have hit on a chord.

"How about pain and torture?" I shuddered at the concept, only because I feared what his mind would invent.

"I guess as long as there's no permanent damage again. I'm a bit of a masochist, as you know, and have never really explored that. I don't think I'm way into it, but I can' really answer that without doing some of it."

"Ok. So are there things that you don't really like but wouldn't really put on the лabsolutely no' list?"

"I really hate anal penetration. I don't get anything out of it and it hurts. I would prefer, if I were your slave, that none of my friends know. I doubt you'd want to tell many of them, considering you don't really like them much. Oh, and I'm not really into any sort of golden shower stuff." Adam nodded, seeming to consider all this.

"I can live with all that. Do you want to set a time we start this?" I felt the rush of excitement and dread building in my body. I both wanted to try this and to run away as fast as possible.

"How about a year?" My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't been prepared for that.

"That's a long time. Can we do it for six months?" Adam frowned, and I was about to give in, until he spoke.

"Ok. Six months." It wasn't until later that I remembered he had suggested that length before, and I had planned to suggest three. The thought made me nervous.

After six weeks in the basement, life returned to almost normal, despite the fact that I was now being kept as a slave. I remained naked except for a heavy corset always laced to my body, a seamless steel collar locked snuggly to my neck, and cuffs on my ankles, held together with a short four inches of chain. The collar and cuffs made me nervous. After days of examination, I couldn't find any key holes, or even much of a seam. They seemed to be quite permanent. Even the chain connecting my ankles together was welded on to the rings mounted in the side of the cuffs. I knew they weren't permanent. He had to put them on my someway, but the sense that there was no visible way to get them off increased my feelings of helplessness.

My elbows remained locked together behind my back, two metal cuffs locked on just above my elbows, which were crossed in the middle of my back, then connected together with some sort of rivet. Once they clicked in place, I found I couldn't bend or twist them; the two cuffs seemed to be mounted firmly to each other. My wrists were pulled to opposite sides of my body, so my left wrist was on my right side, and my right wrist on my left side. Both had cuffs that were connected to the sides of my corset, holding them in place. My hands were fit into special gloves that restricted their use. Each finger fit into separate rubber sleeves, which were connected to each other along their lengths. Only the last joint of every finger was free and able to move independently, though still covered in rubber. The limited movement was made even more difficult by the fact that my left and right hands were reversed, making it hard to manage. I figured it out eventually, but it was hard.

I quickly discovered one change Adam had made during my time in the basement. For the six weeks I was there, he told me he had fed me a breast hormone laced in the food. I had agreed to some enlargement, but I had grown from a 38C to what I estimated was now a 38DD. My breasts were heavy, offsetting my balance and adding a new level of humiliation. The arm bondage pulled my shoulders back, pushing my breasts out even farther, making it impossible for me to avoid displaying them. One of our conversations, when we had first met, was our love for extreme bondage and fetish art. Many of the examples I had shown Adam were of women completely modified, with massive breasts that dwarfed their own bodies. I knew that most of this was fantasy, but I also worried that he would make every effort to make that twisted fantasy come true.

Adding to my humiliation was the wide selection of piercings he had added to my body. I remember, during that intense moment of pain and pleasure, as he had put holes in my nipples, nose and clit, but apparently after I lost consciousness, he had continued his work. My clit now had two rings, one smaller one through my actual clit, with another heavier one behind it. The result was a decorative ring that was slowly desensitizing my tender nub, with another designed to be used for heavier torment or restriction. My nipples now had three piercings, two rings and one rod, through each. A heavy ring was seated at the back of my nipple, resting in a metal pathway much like a grommet. Halfway up the nipple, a rod was set, then at the tip, a smaller ring dangled, a small bell connected to it. I hated the bells, since each movement reminded me of my piercings. Two rings dangled from my septum now. Much like my nipples, a larger, heavier ring was set in a grommet channel, with a smaller ring set just below it. My tongue had the most piercings of any body part, so far. At the end, a thick ring had been placed, with small rods placed from there down the sides. The rods were fit snuggly, squeezing my tongue tightly. At the top the rod ended in large balls that Adam enjoyed when I gave him a blow job. Two more rings were placed near the back of my tongue, on either side. They weren't effective for much except inhibiting my speech patterns. The result of all the tongue piercings made it difficult for me to talk, or be understood. After two weeks, I found myself not wanting to speak, and this control added to the humiliation that was building in me.