Hanging around and difficult choices

The soft hum of the hyperdrive is barely audible over the vibrating wand between your legs, but you focus on it nonetheless, anything to take your mind of that stream of scalding pleasure. Hannah's crop returns to your tit, it's flat leather tip caressing your yearning flesh like a tongue. Despite your efforts, you moan. You can't help it; you're helpless, balltied with your hands behind your back, and not even allowed to touch the floor because of the suspension bondage. All Hannah let's you feel is the rope dimpling your soft flesh and whatever toys she chooses to use on you.

"Where do you want it?" She asks moving her crop to lick your other breast.

You shake your head desperately. The chains, running from your nipple clamps to the weight gripped tightly by your lips, jingle wildly.

Hannah doesn't acknowledge your denial. Instead, you feel her crop running down your taut belly. You wonder if she's going to punish your pussy that would at least give you a break from the powerful wand threatening to send you to another thundering orgasm.

Quicker than lightspeed, the crop strikes your belly button. The sudden blast of pain oozes through you like a balm; you moan at it's caress, a pathetic hungry agony. Too late, you notice your nipple weight tumble from your lips; your teeth snap forward with to grab it, but it's already out of reach. The rubber lined rod spins lazily through its descent, but jerks wildly when the chains reach their limit painfully yanking your nipples. You yelp, probably from the pain, but it could be something else.

You stare at the swinging lump as it continues to tug at your nipples. Mistress Hannah's sultry tones take on a mocking nip as she says, "she dropped that on purpose didn't she?" She strokes the hair of the blonde kneeling between her legs indicating she wanted an answer.

The slut briefly takes her mouth from Hannah's heavenly honey to say "yes Mistress as you say," then returns to worshipping that perfect pussy.

What does that skank even know? She wasn't paying attention. The squirt drinker can't even do two things at the same time. You don't know why she gets so much solo time with Hannah. It's something to do with blackmailing or breaking one of her friends, but you know it's more than the lucky slut deserves.

The swinging nipple weight painfully pulls your attention back to it. You watch it stray left and right coaxing your clamps to alternate their nibbling between each of your nipples; it's hypnotic. Until Hannah's riding crop snaps hard against your ass that is.

"If you're enjoying it so much ****, I'd be happy to double the weight."

"No ma'am," you squeak out while leaning forward in your elaborate suspension. Oh so we're back to ma'am now? you scold yourself clinging to the last shard of the dominant side. The **** box really did a number on you. You don't know if the factory training approach had actually worked or it'd just been monotonous enough to make you **** for the devious touch of a real dominatrix. Either way, you're will isn't what it was. Normally it would have taken at least a week of the strict bondage coupled with sweet, orgasm-inducing punishments before the urge to beg crept through your body like fire through paper. But a single day with Hannah--a public blowjob, a walk of shame, and then being stretched taut in her dungeon for some intimate flogging--was all it took to make your thoughts dance through a submissive euphoria in their own little **** harnesses. Of course, being a perfect representation of the Syndicate's ability to break slaves, the dominatrix made sure to cram your mouth full of hard rubber ball, denying you even the ability to pathetically mewl. And that was just the warm up before the gauntlet of agony and ecstasy.

You think you've been in Hannah's "tender care" for a little over 2 days, but really have no way of knowing. It's easy to lose track of time with a shock dildo is pounding your ass while you simultaneously worship another's. At least, you've been allowed to sleep twice (not counting the times you've passed out for one reason or another).

Your current position is another example of her skilled cruelty; It's a form of predicament bondage. In order to retrieve the teat-tethered weight you must tilt forward, which is a painfully slow process because of the tight ropes, but also exposes your presented behind and the soles of your feet to an array of mini shock prods. These strike long before your mouth reaches the swaying weight; the balls of your feet are assaulted by pins of electricity that make your toes twitch and flex uselessly. Your whole body starts to squirm as the tiny shock spears find your shapely ass. Prodded on, you desperately wag your tongue towards the metal rod. Mistress Hannah has trained you well in the art of tongue acrobatics, but you still can't quite reach the weight. You wiggle your body and turn just a little more; now almost inverted you reach your tongue out, it grazes the weight, but you retract it and wince when a shock prod finds your anus and delivers a particularly painful tap.

You are about to try again when a ballgag is **** into your mouth. "It looks very nice on you," coos Hannah sadistically, "red really is your color."

You can only whimper in pain and frustration because the hard ball between your teeth prevents you from collecting your nipple weight. Realizing your mistress has decided to doom you, you begin the slow wiggle back to horizontal, rocking your hips and shaking your breasts in just the right way to make you pitch up. At least that way you'll be able to save your feet and asshole from those prickly shocks. However just as you exit the range of those tormentors Hannah elects to add several more weights to your nipple chain further proving her mastery of timing. You whimper at the nature of your modified predicament bondage as she sensually walks away without so much as a glance back to you.

"Come slut," she says to her other charge, who merrily crawls probable having only heard cum. "Sensory deprivation," Hannah commands as the door closes behind her and all light in the dungeon vanishes.

You're left alone in the darkness, suffering in predicament bondage. Quickly enough, you discover that while the gag prevents you from grabbing the titty weights with your tongue. You are able to at least rest some of them on the floor by inverting yourself. This relieves some of the **** on your already tormented nipples, but leaves your feet, ass, and sometimes even pussy **** to electric shocks until you decide to slowly wiggle back into a horizontal position. For however long your mistress wishes, you must choose between having your sensitive areas zapped, or doubling the pain in your tits. It's the agony you've come to expect from Hannah but doubt you'll ever get used to.

Occasionally you hear distant whimpers and moans that make you wonder what that cruel bitch is doing to her other toy. These tastes of the outside world are frustratingly fleeting, and you start to feel as though you're drifting through space. The ropes digging into your flesh become a part of you, an extension of your flesh as you slowly dance with the pain. Each roll and twist of your body prompts it to lick you ever so sensually. You whimper pathetically when Mistress Hannah loosens your bindings.

"Stop pretending being a sub isn't your true calling," she chuckles, while lowering you.

Exhausted you slump to the floor before her, as she unbuckles your gag. The only light in her dungeon comes from the idle sparks of a shock stick she holds like a candle. You open your mouth to protest your submissiveness, mind aflame with memories of being the baddest bitch bounty hunter, but you catch the outline of her curved strap-on, and thoughts of it slamming down your throat shudder through your mind.

The cruel mistress giggles with delight at your crumbling will. "The life of a **** grieves to you. We both know you want to give into it and bathe in the pleasures of servitude."

You swallow hard. This isn't you not yet, but why not? You've enjoyed submission in the past; you're enjoying it now... No, your dom has to be worthy of you. "Not to Irk," you meekly squeak out, "please."

"Oh?" chuckled Mistress Hannah. "The **** that thinks she deserves to choose her master? The nerve." She slaps you across the face with her strap-on before forcing your mouth onto it. You wiggle with subconscious gratitude against the ropes Hannah left on you. "Well, I am feeling merciful. If you can prove yourself a worthy **** slut, I might decide to craft an especially cruel fate for you."

You practically vibrate with delight, getting the tip of her rubber cock quite a ways down your throat before she pulls you off. You stare up at your beautiful **** breaker, tethered to her shaft by a thin string of drool, and nod. "I won't let you down, mistress."

"We'll see."