3 Minutes. You can do ANYTHING for 3 minutes, right?

That’s how the day started.  You were just joking around, or at least I had no idea what you were really referring to when you asked. Just out of the blue, you  asked me…

You can do ANYTHING for 3 minutes, right?

I kind of jokingly answered that I thought I could – pretty much anything anyway.  Of course then my mind wandered to all of the things that I was pretty sure I COULDN’T do for 3 minutes.  Fire.  Falling.  You know, DYING stuff. But sure, I was pretty sure you didn’t have that mind anyway.

Later on you called me to the workout room to show me something.  When I stepped in, our workout rack was there, but so were my cuffs.  Which I thought was odd, but I’ve also always eyed that workout rack with a grin.

You keep talking to me, acting like nothing is going on except for the fact that you’re attaching me, facing in, to the rack.  Just as you click the last cuff closed on my ankle, you suddenly perk up and… “Oh, did I mention my friends are coming over?  No?  No worries.

You leave, then return with supplies.  Everything from toys to lube to your crop, paddles and other items.  You carefully lay them out on the table, arranging them and making sure I can see all of the options.  You’ve even brought out the hook.  A bit of panic starts to set in.

You kiss my neck as you pull down the leather blindfold.  Then you start whispering in my ear…

Three minutes.  You can can do it.  Of course it’ll be several 3 minutes spread out, but oh well.

The stereo comes on and immediately I feel your hand on me.  I jump at the sudden grip on me and test the connections with my cuffs.  They’re not going anywhere.  After just a bit, you stop, then I barely make out the “swoosh” of the crop before it makes contact.  I try to twist away, but there’s simply not many places to go.  Several more and your hand returns, flopping me from pain to pleasure and back again.

A small bell rings.  I realize it’s a timer.  “Oh, great.  Three minutes already.”  Your phone chirps with a text message – “Oh, they’re here!  Yes!” It never occurred to me that your friends would be coming over WHILE I’m… strung up.  My mind is racing with exactly which friends this would be.

You turn on the stereo, making it largely impossible to hear much of anything now.  I sense you leaving and admittedly wonder what options I have in order to get away and not be found this way.  I get nothing much.

I hear the door open, just barely over the sound.  And murmurs.  I just about crawl out of my skin realizing you’ve brought your friends to see me.  I can’t tell who is here, just hearing the buzz of very muted conversation.  You’re back at my ear.

Have fun!

A pause and I hear the door shut loudly.  Just before I feel the leather paddle make contact.  It’s more of a surprise than a smack.  I don’t think whomever is behind this has done this before.  But the next is harder.  More targeted.  The intensity rapidly escalates and I’m quickly gasping for air between hits.  I can feel my ass burning, and realize it must be bright red at this point.


I hear the timer and a disappointed sigh.  I also hear the door shut loudly.

I relax just a little into the cuffs and try to pull myself back, but I only have a few minutes to do it and hear the door shut again, an initial laugh and then nothing.  I’m braced, expecting more hits, when I feel a hand slowly close around my cock.  Another grabs my balls and pulls down, while the first slowly starts stroking.  In my head, I’m jumping from “that feels great” to “omigod stop pulling” to “WHO THE FUCK IS MESSING WITH MY STUFF?” and back and forth.

It suddenly stops and… nothing.  Then something very cold and very hard starts poking around my ass and I jump.  I hear a little snicker, but the cold, hard thing is insistent and fairly rapidly pressed inside me.  I feel it curl up around me, with the cold metal.  I realize it’s the anal hook feel it pulling upward.  I’m literally being strung up to the pull-up bar.

Just enough that I’m up on my toes…

Then the stroking again.  A slight pause and I feel the impact from the flogger – not so gingerly even to start, but mercifully the bell rings.  In seconds the door closes again and I believe I’m alone.  Again I’m trying to catch my breath, to deal with my situation of being strung up and tied off to the rack.

And every time, I come back to exactly WHO is here.  Why you’re doing this.  It’s a mind-fuck to end all mind-fucks for certain.

This continues for 4 more rounds.  Every time the technique is different, every time the person is different.  I can sense it, feel it and even smell it from perfumes and such from time to time.

The door closes again and I hear Hi Honey!  and realize you’ve returned.  You come over and smack my already red ass and kiss me briefly.  I’m bouncing around in the pain/pleasure matrix at this point, always held there by the cuffs, the hook, and the things being done.  You run your fingernails over my back drawing them down, my back screaming at the tiny cuts.  Each time you do this, the signals to my brain overload and I chase after the subspace, looking for a way out.

You come around to the front of me, running your nails down over my chest, scraping my nipples, my chest, my stomach.  A weird heat sensation comes after each pass, it starts to feel good.  Too good.

I hear myself asking for more.  Asking for more of anything you want to give.  It’s a weird mental break from the pain and embarrassment to the desire to get more sensation, more feelings, more heat, more sting.

Then the clamps suddenly appear on my chest and I cry out – but just as I start to, and my brain is feeling overwhelming, you start stroking taking me just there.  Just fast enough that it is inevitable, just slow enough that I have to ride the edge.  I feel it overwhelming me, the cuffs, the hook, the clips, the blindfold, the impact, the play, the edging… I am lost in this strange whirlwind and completely and utterly out of control.

I feel you, what you’re doing, what is happening, but it’s the surreal thing going on and I feel myself falling over this edge, almost like a waterfall… and realize that I’m a hair away from cumming – but I don’t care because of the animal brain and lack of any kind of will to prevent it at this point.

You sense this, slow down, but keep going.  I actually feel the orgasm start in my eyes – it rolls through my head, rockets down my spine and erupts out of me.  I am twisting on the hook, my cuffs and shaking and sweating and the orgasm is pinging back and forth, up and down my body.  It seems like it lasts forever, I wish it would last forever, but I start to come down a bit and realize you’re still stroking.

It registers first as strange realization that you still have ahold of me. Then a realization that my body is trying desperately to get away.  But I cannot, I can’t move enough to make any difference at all.  And you keep going.

Your pace increases as does my desperation to get away and let it stop, make it stop… but you keep going and I feel my insides welling up again.  I realize I may cum all over again and relax into it, chasing it down almost.  I feel it bolting again from my head to my cock – feel it building up and just as I feel myself topple over the edge, you stop.

My body almost convulses as it tries to finish the job.  I’m jabbing at the air, looking for any kind of help on making the orgasm happen, making it real.  But it’s not to be.

I slowly come down and you first remove the hook, then my blindfold.  I quickly look around to see exactly who I’ve just been performing for, but there’s no one else in the room.

I know, I know you want to know who’s here.  Just me.  Me and my perfumes and my drama background.  Now THAT was fun.

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