Tag Archives: Nipple Torture

HOUSE OF CARDS

Take two decks of cards, shuffle them together, and divide them into two piles of 52 cards. Each draw a card and the highest card wins. Even I understood it!
If I win, Mistress Angela said, I will pick a punishment for you. In the unlikely event that you win, you can pick any punishment you like. How’s that?
I smelled a rat, I didn’t like it.
I like it, Mistress, I said with a pokerface.
She won the first three in a row, which resulted into severals kick in the groin, nipple torture and bastinado. Bloody hell, we had just started and I was bruised and battered already. But then I started to win. Not once, not twice, but over and over again. So foot-worship joined the fun, facesitting, ponyplay, ass-worship and much more. I started to love this game.
I’m starting to hate this game, She said with a clear threat in Her voice.
It’s a game of luck, Mistress, I panicked.
She drew a card: three of diamonds. I began to sweat like a waterfall in spring. I drew mine: Queen of hearts. If looks could kill, I would be living in an urn right now.

I’m going to take you to Hell and back for this, She fumed.
So there you have it! No matter how successful, important, populair, rich or victorious you might be; you are, and always will be, a fucking loser.

CRIPPLE NIPPLE

She gave me a Grand Tour of submission. Some foot worship, some doggy training, a couple of well-earned slaps to the face, a bit of whipping to warm up the skin (for the horrors that would soon follow) and some CBT to tame the beast and his great balls of fire. Well … in a manner of speaking. The pain was mild and I honestly began to believe I had special powers of some sorts (such a rookie mistake). Then She pinched my nipples with Her long, razor-sharp nails. My body twitched violently.
Aha, She grinned, found your weak spot.
And that was the start of a painful romance between my nipples on the one hand, and clamps on the other. Now, nipple clamps are not that bad during the first twenty minutes or so. You could do a summersault, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t recommend it, but you could. But then, after a while, pain sets in. The clamps start chewing through your flesh like piranha’s on the loose. The clamps restrict the blood flow and pain ripples through your body like a shockwave. But that’s nothing compared to removing these man-eating things. I fear that moment more than anything. The blood rushes back into your nipples, like barbaric herds with a silence to kill. It’s an explosion of pain, there’s no better way to describe it. The more ruthless Ladies would then grab the dying nipples and squeeze them like grapes. Loved it, hated it, feared it, but most of all: felt it.

WE WANT MORE

My hands were chained above my head, with my toes barely touching the ground. This was only my third week in slavery and I was still as green as grass. I didn’t even know the difference between a paddle and poodle, for God’s sake.
Anyways, my nipples were clamped and weighted and my balls were tied tightly. Both Mistresses yanked the chain on the nipple clamps from time to time and kicked, squeezed and kneed my poor balls. And to make matters worse: they whipped me endlessly & mercilessly with a vicious cat-‘o-nine-tails and an unforgiving bullwhip. I suffered beyond belief, I really did. I tried to endure the pain as long as possible, but everyone has a breaking point. Mine came with the high-C of misery.
What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?
The blonde Mistress sounded not amused. I may have been a rookie, but I instinctively knew I was on thin ice now. I could hear it cracking and shifting beneath my feet.
Yes, Mistress, I do, I do.
So?
Thank You Mistress, thank You for the punishment.
Do you want more?
(Nooooooooo! Stop! Enough = enough!! Read my lips: no, No, NO!!!)
Yes Mistres, please, I squeaked.
They laughed.
Good boy, big liar, the dark-haired Mistress said.
Always be ready for more, even if you can’t take no more, that’s my painful advice.