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(I wrote this story several months ago as an assignment for Mad Baker.  Part of the assignment was to share it with five other people – and the responses I got were so positive that I decided to copywrite it.  Re-posting this story here by request from another submissive who likes my writing.  NSFW!!!)

I pulled the chicken out of the oven, smiling at the appearance of the perfectly browned bird.  I set it down on the counter and turned my attention to the biscuits.  They weren’t done yet, so I shut the overn door and re-set the timer, nerves quivering.

This was the first time I had cooked a fancy-type meal in a while, and on top of that was the pressure to make it absolutely perfect.  I had planned out the beginning of the night, and I wanted everything to be just right.  I had a few surprises in store for the gentlemen I was cooking for!

I sliced the chicken into thin strips and arranged it decoratively onto two plates.  I added baked potatoes to one side, and steamed asparagus to the other (with hope that I had steamed them right).  I drizzled a bit of gravy on the chicken just as the timer sounded.  The biscuits looked perfect, and added just the right look to the plates.  Two glasses of wine completed the meal.

Now for my surprise.  I reached under the cupboard and pulled out the serving tray I had secretly ordered online.  I had pre-measured the straps and knew they were just the right size for my body.  One strap went around my waist, holding the tray at a good level – the other went around my neck to hold it steady.  The tray was just large enough to hold two dinner plates, silverware, and wine glasses.  I took a deep breath and checked my appearance one last time in a hand mirror.  Satisfied that I looked sleek and meek, I laced my hands behind my back and walked carefully out into the living room.

There they were, sitting on the couch having a nice discussion.  As I neared them I could make out the topic – they were discussing the merits of rope bondage verses leather cuffs.  I neared the chair in which Master sat and kneeled in front of him, offering him first the silverware, wrapped artistically in a cloth napkin.  Next the glass of wine, and finally the plate of food.  He said nothing to me, but I could see the light of appreciation in his eyes, and felt his gaze caressing my figure as I moved to Sir.  I preformed the same functions for Sir, in the same order.  He also treated this as though it was normal, but also had a little glint in his eye that told me he had noticed the new equipment.

I stood, for a moment lost – I had expected they would say something or order me to do something, and left to my own devices was confusing for a few moments.  But then the thought occurred to me to go back in the kitchen and grab the bottle of wine, so I could refill their cups without another trip.  While in there, I was struck by inspiration and quickly poured two bowls full of warm water and grabbed two washcloths.

I came back out and put the bowls and washcloths on the side table, and knelt there with the wine, occasionally topping a glass when I noticed it was dropping low in level.  I listened to the conversation, enjoying the contrast of their voices – one deep and silky, the other a resonate tenor with a lilt.  Both voices sent jolts of energy straight to my pussy, quivering and wet.  But the only outward sign of my arousal was the tautness of my nipples.

Occasionally one of them would look over at me, appraising and evaluating.  I knelt there, back straight, breasts thrust out, head bowed – the perfect picture of submission.  I could sense the rising ardor in both men and felt my own body respond, but remained quiet and meek.

Master finished his meal first.  Topping off his wineglass, I took his plate and silverware, and then dipped the washcloth into the warm water.  Taking his hand, I washed each finger, massaging gently as I cleaned him.

By the time I was done, Sir had finished his meal, so I took his plate and gave him the same cleansing massage.  He nudged off his socks and lifted a foot in my direction, and I began to wash his feet as well, massaging as I scrubbed.  He sighed and leaned back, and the conversation between the two men continued.  I noted in interest that it had switched from bondage to politics.  I gave the feet a last swipe with the cloth, and feeling worshipful, knelt further and laid a kiss on the top of each foot.

I walked on my knees over to Master, bending to remove his socks.  A jolt of shock and arousal ran down to my toes when he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back up.  “Did I give you permission to remove my socks, slut?”  he growled, voice low and dangerous.  I cringed.  “My apologies, Master!  I should have asked first. Mercy!”

He took the strap of the serving tray off of my neck, and leaned over and unsnapped the waist cord.  “I don’t forgive that easily,” he breathed.  “Stand up!”

I stood, legs shaking after having knelt for so long.  Master stood as well.  Grasping the back of my neck, he forced me to bend over the couch.  I made a move to kneel and he snapped “Stand up!”.  I stood.  And for a moment everything was still and silent….me standing in front of the couch, bent over…Master standing over me…Sir leaning back in his chair, silently observing.

Then the room burst into life again.  Sir drew in a breath and Master yanked hard at my skirt, ripping it as he pulled it down around my ankles….bare ass exposed.  I heard him leave the room, and then return with something heavy.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him put down the toy chest and pull out the whip.

The first lash stung – even expecting it, it still took me by surprise and made me cry out.  Not in pain, exactly – but that strange mix of pleasure and pain that was such a rush to my system.  He continued to lash me and I sank into subspace, rocking slightly and moaning in pleasure/pain.

I didn’t even notice Sir had gotten up and helped himself to another whip – that is, until the lashes doubled in number.  My moans turned to cries as the pain and pleasure tripled, rushing through me until I climaxed uncontrollably.

“Spread your legs,” Master ordered, and I obeyed, spreading my legs open.  Almost immediately I felt a hard SMACK with the whip.  “Wider” he snapped, and I braced myself on the back of the couch and spread my legs farther.  The whip curved around my thigh and kissed my inner leg, and I trembled and lost myself in the rush of new sensations.  Time lost all meaning – all that was left was pleasure and pain.

Distantly I was aware that the whipping has stopped.  Cool hands were running over my body, smoothing, stroking, feeling so good against the hot welts that had formed on my ass and thighs.  A hand reached under my shirt and caressed my nipple through the fabric of my bra.  My breath caught at the intensity of my reaction – both nipples felt as though they had just snapped to attention.

Cool metal ran over my back, and the soft sound of fabric parting came to my ears.  My top fell away, sliding to the floor in dramatic death throes, silky and silent.  With another flick of the knife, my bra joined it – adding insult to injury as it landed heavily on the dying shirt.  The knife continued its trail, tracing patterns on my skin, ever so gently over my back…more like the gentle touch of an inexperienced lover than the cruel savagery one would expect from a sharp dagger.  I could feel it tracing swirling patterns on my back and shoulders, and felt my skin react to the sharp point by turning red.  The knife traced back down to my ass, then between my legs to lightly tease my swollen lips.  I froze in fear and desire.

So focused was I on the trailing blade that I had not noticed my breasts being manipulated until the first clamp bit sharply on my nipple, forcing a cry past my lips.  I whimpered, hoping for that magical moment when the pain turned to pleasure.  After a few long seconds, it hit in a wave that forced another orgasm to shudder around my clit, and I felt myself gush, fluid running down my legs in twin ribbons of ecstasy.  The other clamp bit my nipple as the orgasm subsided, bringing another scream-turned-moan and bringing me back to the point of climax.

Sir smiled as he positioned himself in front of me, leaning down to whisper “You didn’t think I would let him have all the fun, did you?”  A deep chuckle from behind me told me that Master not only allowed this but approved of it, and I wondered for a moment if they had planned to tag-team me.

The sound of a zipper brought my attention back to Sir, but his jeans were still fastened.  I felt a probing at my pussy and realized it was Master who had shed his clothing.  He took me with one savage thrust, and I gasped at the sheer forcefulness of it.  This is what I loved – being taken, without being asked – my willingness and obedience assumed.  He began to finger my ass as he pounded me, slipping his thumb inside and making me groan in desire.

Another zipper undone, and the bulge in Sir’s jeans became more clearly defined.  He was not wearing boxers, and I could see every detail.  The urge to pleasure him grew strong, and the last of my will melted away as I took him in my mouth.  The first few licks were tentative, teasing…and tempting.  I opened my mouth to take more when Sir thrust his hips and filled my mouth.  At the same moment, Master shoved a second finger inside my ass, and I was caught between the two of them.  There was no avenue of escape – but that didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to get free anyway.

A rhythm began to build between us – Master would impale my pussy with his cock, forcing me forward – forward to gag on Sir’s cock.  Every time I would draw away from the cock in my mouth, the cock in my pussy would slam into me, shoving me forward and forcing the cock into my throat.  My breasts swung with each thrust, the chain connecting the clamps swaying and bringing a different kind of pleasure.  The pressure built and built to incredible proportions before finally exploding.  I felt my pussy squeeze tightly and my scream was muffled as the rhythm continued unabated – for my orgasm didn’t matter.  My pain and pleasure didn’t matter, for I was nothing but a tool for their use.

After what seemed like hours of never-ending sensation, I felt Master pull away and say something to Sir – although I couldn’t make out what was said.  Sir pulled out of my mouth and I stood there, gasping, braced against the couch as though I would collapse if I let go.  A low conversation between the two men ended with them grabbing my arms, pulling me upright.  The clamps were removed and I screamed long and loud, the sound ending in a sob.  Together they dragging me to the bedroom, throwing me on the bed.  I landed face-down, my throbbing breasts smashed into the bedspread.  My legs were spread and the clamps were snapped to my labia, bringing a moan of sheer desire.

The toy box was brought back into the room.  I could hear the men muttering about what to use on me, and when.  My hair was roughly grabbed and a blindfold placed over my eyes.  A finger smelling of my juices forced my mouth open to accept the ring gag, which was then strapped tightly to my head.  I felt my hands being bound with rope, tied tightly together, and then attached to my collar.  Leather cuffs were a different sensation, forcing a spreader bar to my ankles.  I heard Master run a rope from my bound wrists under the bed, coming back up and tying to the spreader bar.  I could not shift more than a few inches in any direction.  Before there had at least been the illusion of escape – but now I had nowhere to run.

The whip made a reappearance, but this time I was too far gone to feel the pain – only the pleasure came through, no matter how hard I was beaten.

The bed shifted and a cock was rubbed against my face.  I could smell myself all over it – so I figured it had to be Master – that guess confirmed when he began to fuck my face.  I would recognize the shape of his cock anywhere, and could taste myself all over him.  I began to clean my juices from his cock, sucking until my cheeks hollowed.

A light touch on my pussy made the chain between the clamps rattle.  A hand smeared lube all over my pussy and ass, the fingers exploring both orifices with rough disregard.  A grunt of satisfaction before Sir entered me, slowly, teasing me with several shallow strokes, just barely going in before pulling back.

Slowly, far too slowly, the rhythm picked up, until at last I was being pounded again at both ends.  My tortured nipples swung back and forth, brushing against the textured bedspread and sending jolts of fire down to my clit – which was throbbing and wet.

Little wisps of words came to me….”Such a good little slut.”  “You like this, don’t you?”  “So wet, so eager to fuck.”  A hand slapped down on my ass, smacking the welts, and I cried out in pain/pleasure.  “What’s the matter, slut?  Did that hurt?  Why should I care if it hurts?”

Something cool running down my ass caught my attention – more lube was being poured over me, and a moment later I realized why.  The butt plug slid in and out of me, in contrast to the rhythm of the cocks at first, but then it began to work with the rhythm, and every stroke got it a little farther in me before it was pulled back.  I realized that I was being triple penetrated and that I had no say in the matter.  Master’s cock began to throb against my tongue as Sir began to moan, signaling that they were both cumming.

Both men slammed into me simultaneously, just as the plug slid all the way into my ass.  My body convulsed as a new orgasm hit – this one harder than all the ones before it.  I felt hands grab my hips as he shoved forward one last time, slamming all the way to the hilt into me.  The cock in my mouth pulled away and hot cum splashed all over my face, and dripped into my open mouth.  I spasmed, unable to even scream as the orgasm tore every molecule of my body apart.  Pleasure ripped my mind apart as the room spun – and darkness, blessed darkness, took over me.


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Mad Baker has a ritual he likes me to experience sometimes before we play.  Basically it is a meditative period to get me in the right frame of mind before a scene.

I am to kneel on a pillow and relax, letting go of all the stress and strain of my day.   Lately I have noticed that just the act of kneeling on the pillow causes me to space slightly.

Once relaxed, I am to think of answers to the following questions:

1)     What makes my submission worthy?

2)     What makes Mad Baker’s dominance attractive to me?

3)     What have I been fantasizing about lately?

4)     Do I have anything to confess to my owner?

After a short period of time, Mad Baker comes to me and asks if I am ready to answer his questions.  If I am, he listens to my replies and deems if they are appropriate and complete.  If I have pleased him, he does something to me – things along the lines of putting on my collar, applying nipple clamps, blindfolding me, and many others.

He doesn’t use this ritual every time we play – only occasionally – but I enjoy it.  Yesterday he tossed the pillow at my feet and told me to kneel.  I knelt, mere inches from him, and meditated on my questions.  The smell of his skin and the sight of his cock kept distracting me, but I managed to focus enough to answer all my questions.

He rewarded me with his cock, allowing me to taste it and revere it…but that was where the gentleness on his part ended.  He grabbed my ponytail and used it as a handle to hold my head steady while he fucked my face, shoving his cock far back into my throat, making me gag.

He then bound my hands in front of me – the rope tingling as it ran across my skin, making me gasp and shiver.  The blindfold came next – a nice thick double layer of black fabric.  The nipple clamps were snapped on, making me cry out at the pain/pleasure.

He pushed his cock into my mouth again and began to thrust.  I gagged and turned my head to the side for a moment, and he slapped my face and shoved his cock back into my mouth.

“You are going to keep those lips firmly wrapped around my cock, and you are NOT to remove them until I decide they can be removed”

I nodded my understanding and tightened my lips around his shaft, feeling it thrust in and out of my mouth.  I tried to create suction but he was moving too much for me to get much of a grip….so I started to flick the underside of his cock with my tongue, focusing on the sensitive spot just under the head.

The chain connecting the nipple clamps swung back and forth with our movements, causing brief yet glorious spurts of pain – until they finally fell off, bringing a yelp as each clamp was released.

A couple times he shoved his cock all the way down to the hilt, and held me there, unable to breathe, unable to fight back, and desperately wishing he would hold it there longer than he did.

When he tired of face fucking, he drew me upright and forced me to the bed, kneeling so that I was in the perfect position for him to stand behind and fuck me.  He ran his hands over my shaved puss, then across my ass and down my thighs.

I felt his fingers trace patterns over my skin as he came back to my puss, and a sudden surge of wetness as his fingertip lightly ran over my clit.  I jumped and moaned softly, hips working against his hand, hoping for more.

His fingers entered with a savageness that felt strangely unreal, the pads of his fingers unerringly stroking my g-spot.  His thumb brushed up against my clit and began to work it in rhythm with his fingers, bringing me quickly to a shuddering orgasm.

He pulled back and slammed his cock into my prepared puss, filling me completely with a single stroke before pulling back and thrusting again – and again – and again.

His wicked fingers returned to my clit and began to tease and torment me beyond sanity.  I cried out and rocked back to meet his next thrust, and began fucking him as eagerly as he was fucking me.  The angle was just right, the head of his cock stroking that g-spot with perfect pressure – the orgasm built up and flooded through me, soaking my puss and making my body lose the rhythm.

He used some of that fluid to prepare my ass for fucking.  I began to beg and protest, stating that his cock was too big to fit all the way in my ass!

He chuckled an evil little chuckle and reminded me that my pleasure, and my pain, were not important – all that mattered was HIS pleasure, and if he wanted to fuck my tight little ass then that was what he was going to do!

It took several long minutes but finally he was able to fully penetrate – I was crying for mercy at that point, but deep inside was enjoying every moment of the “forced” anal play.

He pulled back and began fucking my ass with the same enthusiasm he had shown for my puss, and almost against my will, my body began to move in rhythm, pushing back to take all of him with as much force as I dared to use.  I orgasmed from the anal play again and again, even as I struggled against him and against the bindings he had put on me.

He grabbed my ponytail, using it as a handle as he fucked me senseless.

He took a break a couple times, to flog and spank me, but then always came back to fucking my ass…and each time he did, it felt as though his cock had grown harder and larger, each penetration seeming to bring more pleasure than the previous, until I was nearly limp with the emotions and endorphines.

Suddenly he drew back and yanked me off the bed, forcing me to kneel at his feet as he came all over my face.  I sputtered, but then licked the drops that had landed on my lips, noting that the taste was not as astringent as it usually is.

When he was done with me, I knelt there in a daze, unwilling to move – slowly I tipped until I was leaning against the bed for support, still in the kneeling position.  Mad Baker chuckled at the sight of me and threw me a towel so I could “clean up”.

We didn’t cuddle afterward – not this time, it just didn’t seem like it was the kind of scene that you end with cuddling and gentleness.  I finally managed to crawl up onto the bed and collapsed, falling asleep feeling utterly drained, sore from being used – and peaceful, content – and complete.

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