HNT: Torture

He tortures me in a lot of ways. He uses the toys, from the beautiful silver fucking cake server, which stings like a bitch, to the large plastic salad fork, which feels horrible.

All of which turns me on. Painslut, much?

He pokes with his fingers and thumbs, leaving HUGE bruises on me. Who woulda thunk it? Here is the right arm…the last lingering traces of his bite…and the new, purple “poke” marks:

Now, the other side is more painful, coz He hit the same spot over and over, as I stood there. Just little jabs, mind you. We were in the parking lot, and not a place where you’d expect to see a guy waling away at a woman..so bear in mind that to the outside world it just looked like a teasing, tickling kind of poke.

If only “they” knew how wicked His finger pokes are…

(isn’t this a different sort of HNT?!)  It’s almost impossible to get this in without some tit. Bear with me here…(somehow I think most of you won’t mind!)

Purty colorful, yes? And amazing to this painslut how fast it purpled up …this was like…a 3 minute thing…

But.

Over and above this? And the other stuff we do? And oh, we do some wicked things together… 🙂

He is the Master of the Mind-Fuck.

Take our last visit, 2 weeks ago. We’re going to a place kind of far away, and He wants me to ride with Him. Which is really fun. But before we leave, He stops at a grocery store.

“Wait here.”

I sit and take out my phone, check my email (I have a “stupid” phone…but I can read email on it!!), look at the clouds scudding across the blue blue sky…and wait. He comes back to the car, opens my door, and hands me the 6 pack of sparking water.

  He takes one bottle out, and indicates that I’m to keep the rest by my feet. He offers me one, but i’m not too thirsty yet, and I have no idea how long we’ll be driving and you know how men are when women need to pee when they’re driving. (laughing)

Eventually we arrive at the destination (a hotel, of course), and He drains the bottle of water and hands the bottle to me. The bottle in the picture above, to be specific. We gather our things, including the other water, and He asks for my help in grabbing a file folder for some papers He’s bringing upstairs.  I love helping Him.  Eventually, we are all collected, and we go to our room.

He hands me the folder with the paper, bidding me to put down my stuff.

All except for the water bottle.

His eyes are glowing and I wonder …what the fuck?  He’s not jumping me, not attacking my feet. Nothing is how it usually is on a play day. He points at the folder.

“Open it.” His voice is gruff and for just a moment my heart leaps into my throat. Is He…terminating our relationship? But no. There is a picture inside the folder.

A picture of one of the fattest cocks I’ve ever seen in my life.

Propped up against the man’s groin is a 16.9 oz bottle of sparkling water, just like the one in my hand. His cock is the same size as the bottle is long (tho thankfully not quite as thick.)

I look from the bottle in my hands to the pic, to Master. I am sure my mouth was open in amazement.

“That’ll be in your mouth before the day is over.”

And He was right. It was.

I keep the bottle on my make up table these days…not so much to remember the giant cock I sucked (and may suck again)…but of the supreme wickedness of my Master’s mind, and how in awe I am of Him.