Scampering in from work one grabbed a quick meal before we
went round the corner to the gym, followed by some laundry, dinner, showers and
off to bed for what one thought was going to be a pleasant little quickie
before going to sleep. It's strange how things never seem to work out like they
do in your mind. 'Cos what transpired was neither pleasant nor quick...
First off He pounced, rolled one over and before one could
squeak out the safeword, let along spell it...
Oh yes, that was a conversation that came up over breakfast.
He was threatening one over food... can't remember what it was, but one wasn't
enjoying it. In complete exasperation one called red. Nothing happened. So one
tried Rumpelstiltskin... just in case things had changed. And then one
remembered Him saying that the word was
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.
On the off chance He hadn't been kidding one tried it out.
The fucker turned round and said, spell it...
That can't be right surely? That can't be how it works...
'cos it is a lousy system if it is.
Anyway back to being pounced on...

Before one knew what was happening He had one trussed up in
a Sportsheets Bondage Bar that we had picked up ages ago. It is portable, lightweight and
quite innocuous if shoved in the bottom of a bag as it flattens out along the thin,
ridged bar to measure about 43 cm (17'). In other words it's perfect for taking
away... not that we got to use it
last time. So there one was trussed up, face down arse up (that almost went without
saying didn't it?) with wrists and ankles trapped in Velcro, while He is
attacking body parts with His fingers and the
Wanachi Multi.
It probably sounds all sexy and stuff...
It wasn't. There is nothing sexy about not being able to breathe
properly with a rapidly developing kink in the neck and hair that is insisting
on trying to get in your mouth. Anyone who has ended up in that position can
attest to that. Not to mention the whole drooling thing... shudders quietly
Taking pity on one small slave He rolled one over and
renewed his attack, before finishing off with His dick buried deep in one's
arse, as one lay there as helpless as an upturned beetle. That bondage bar is
vile. The bloody thing is almost impossible to get out of. It's not going in
the favourite toy category at all. In fact one is starting to suspect that
Velcro is Satan's tool...
Sighs He is not of that opinion... and apparently his is the
only view that counts.
A few minutes after He had finished with one small (and feeling
decidedly ruffled) slave, as one was sitting in the office meditating on both the
anal abuses that had just occurred and the idea of Velcro being the tool of
Satan, He marched in saying stand up. As one did so He shoved one over the desk
and proceeded to sodomise the poor abraded arse again with short vicious
strokes while making one say how much one enjoyed being fucked in the arse by
him.
At that point it wasn't true at all. It was hurting. A lot. In
fact way more than it should have.
Vile oppressor, one slung at His retreating back
He laughed and went to bed leaving one bleeding, dripping
cum and without a tissue in sight. This was not the night one had in mind at
all L