avralivia

I have pushed for something extreme, made it clear during the week that I want to be pushed again, tested maybe…

He puts the pvc straightjacket on me, I slide my arms in and feel its captive coolness, he fastens all the little straps and buckles that will hold me irrevocably secure.

He lies me there on the bed, and my mind is running away with me, knowing what could happen, unsure what will happen.

He fastens rope through my ankle cuffs to the headboard, effectively capturing my legs apart.  Classic gynaecological pose…

My head is propped up on pillows high, close to the metal headboard.  My face is covered with the soft material hood, and then the blindfold slipped over the top.  Then the gas mask over the top, and I am wondering if he will do what he said.. Or if he was toying with me again.  Would he actually take me to the point where I am almost passed out?  I have no doubt he is capable of it, perhaps done it to others, though I haven’t asked.  But I know he will only do it if I am ready to reach that level of breath play - which is one of my favourite sensations, one of my most loathed too… as I lose all control and become an animal fighting for breath.

I apologise master but as with any of my more intense experiences my memories are a little jumbled so if there are errors in the time line then I am sorry x

As I lie there helplessly, completely unable to move, he plays with me, toys with my mind.  He talks to me, takes me to the edge of reason with his mind and his actions.  The egg dildo I love to hate is inserted into my ass (pre-enema’d ass) I am fucked with it, and he makes me cum, again and again. He fucks my cunt with his fingers, always talking, always making my mind spin with sensations.  Its too tight with the vibrator in my ass so he takes it out and just plays with my sodden cunt for a while.

He messed around in the room for a while, banging something, I am confused, I realise when I feel something cold and small inserted in my ass and the familiar rush of water that it is the enema bag he has hooked up.  I thought he was kidding about the alcohol enema…. He wasn’t.  Though in my mind always searching for the trick for the mind fuck I thought he was pretending to do it, that maybe it was water.  The real mind fuck in itself simply caused by me not being able to be sure, not knowing if I was getting tipsy or if it was a placebo.. Not sure not sure.

I hear the sound of a bottle glugging, but still I wonder…

I feel confused, and a little spaced out, I decide it doesn’t matter if I am drunk or not, if anything it will either heighten things in some ways and dull sensations in others and make them more bearable…  I have a feeling by this point (and earlier) that there are very good reasons why master wants me to feel a little numb and relaxed…

He slides the egg vibrator up into my ass and leaves it switched on, tormenting me with orgasms before leaving me lying there, completely helplessly restrained with my ass filled and buzzing like a filthy slut.

When he comes back I am zoned out, peaceful, lost in space so to speak, the bondage and the alcohol (probably) and the helplessness sending me to a dreamy space.

He starts to torment me again this time it gets more intense, he is fucking my cunt with his fingers driving me crazy, something I both fight against the intensity of and love especially when he does it a certain way…

… its all hazy now.

He pushes something in me, and as he does it he says he wants to check if I’m healthy, he’s all professional sounding now, calm and considered.  I would have run away and screamed if I could have but no, I had no choice I had to do it… and I DID wants to, I wanted him to be able to do anything to me, even the things I fear.  Because to me and to him too how can he have my full submission if I am guided by my fears still, rooted in the past?  But the speculum how I loathe it, how it burns my brain and makes me angry, and I am losing my calm now, losing my control…

There’s ice cold darkness when the ice dildo is forced into my cunt and I am fucked with it, but its unbearable too much, way too much, I love ice, but this frozen impaler sends me over the edge I scream for him to stop to get it out….

Breathplay, he comes and kneels over me and covers the air intake on the gas mask, I take a deep breath and relax, I don’t fight, I don’t respond to him.  I don’t know why, I just couldn’t get into the right place to enjoy it, things are getting more intense and I cant control it I cant *change* anything.
Its becoming less like play and more like torture.

It steps up more, the large tens pads are placed on wither side of my cunthole, and turned on high, too high, I yelp… he turns it down a little, its not comfortable but just, just bearable.  He leaves me for 5 minutes or so while I settle with the feelings… then he comes back, turns it up, zaps me harder, changes the settings, plays with me, then leaves again.  Three times I think he did this, it could be more or less, but my brain is frazzled, its so intense these feelings.  As the tens gets ever higher I can feel my cunt going numb, when he plays with me I can feel a lot less….

That’s when he gets the medical things ready I hear what he says I hear what he is doing…. But oh my, I am getting scared.  Why I don’t really know at this point.  My nipples are more sensitive to pain than my labia, I know this, he has proven and demonstrated this.  But the thing is, I am SO so terrified that logic doesn’t count.  I wonder how many piercing he will do… one isn’t enough is it ? It needs to be equal, my mind melts as I try not to think about it.  He asks if I want him to continue, and I say I have no choice.  “You always have a choice with something that changes you like this feles” he says.  I know he is right, yet no I do not have a choice because I cannot bear the shame of disappointing him, of not being able to do this for him.  Five rings through my inner labia is what he wants to do,   one will be hard… I cannot even imagine 5…

…. My breath is quick and hard, my brain on fire with thoughts, big thoughts of pain and fear, fear and pain.

He tried to take me away from it, to focus, he talks to me, my beloved master who I love beyond all reason. Beyond all boundaries.

I will do this for him I think.. I will be fine.

Then the searing hot pain, there it is the pain I know well now from my other piercing, and its as though it sears to my soul, it burns me.  Its in my head this pain, I know that but I cant block it I cant.  Suddenly I’m not here anymore I am lying on a bed in a hospital, I have an epidural in me so I cant feel the legs that they have up in stirrups and they are cutting me, and pushing something in me to get the baby out, I cant bear it I don’t want to look, the pains bad even with the epidural.  But its not the pain I feel so amazingly violated all these people looking at me touching me, their disgusting fingers in my hole, then their implements, their knife slicing me, and the blood oh my god the blood is everywhere, there’s so much of it, someone says there’s a lot, but its so far away I’m not there anymore.

Then I’m back and I’m screaming and crying out, and I’m hurt, it feels like I’m cut in the same way, and all I can think about is the blood, and the people, hurting me, doing things to me, and I cant move my legs, I cant move my legs! The panic overcomes me and I can barely breathe. . .

Through all this Master carries on, he isn’t in my head, he cant feel what I’m feeling, he knows he has to finish and he does, he talks to me the whole time, the beautiful voice of my master, and I love him I do, but I hate him for a second I hate him for hurting me, but the feelings messed up in my head with the past and I know I don’t hate him, I love him… 2 seconds later that rush of animosity is gone.  But its left me shaken to the core.  I feel lost, the pain is secondary, something in my mind has broken and I KNOW I will be alright. But I need some time, he unstraps me, takes care of me, gradually all the bondage is removed, and in the end I am stood before him in the bedroom, and he asks how I am… I have yet to speak.  And I say I need to cry.  He wraps his arms around me and I sob a little, but I cant let go, I need to really let go.  I just wish he understood the pain in my heart right now, the pain from the past and that moment of hate I felt that shook me to the core of my being.

I tell him I cant talk right now, I distance myself, I need to process what has happened,.  He talks to me, watches me as I cry again and again, I’m moving about the flat but just the tiniest thing and I am lost again in emotions.

I go and sit on my place in Masters flat, and I am quiet and subdued.  He cooks for us, I do so love watching him cook, and I idly watch him as he goes too and fro to the fridge, smiling at me with concerned eyes and a curving mouth.  I know I cannot explain yet.. Later I think….

Eventually I find enough words to say Id had a flashback.  But how do you really explain? How do you explain that something that almost destroyed your world 8 years ago can be triggered like that, and suddenly it isn’t 8 years ago its NOW.  How do you explain the surge of that unwanted emotion you felt?  How could I explain?  I couldn’t, I made it small I made it sound like I was being stupid.  Which made it so much worse, I was in pain, really really hurting inside, my stomach was clenched, the tears sitting in me waiting to pour out again and again.  How could I explain that I needed this though?  That I needed to let go of all those things that happened to me, and the traumas, I needed time to process it, and when he pushed me to let it go I couldn’t I wasn’t ready, I needed to process this or it would come back.  And I was scared scared that I would go back to how I was then when I had post natal depression, and I lived in a black land full of secret pain.  I knew I wouldn’t, but the fear lurked with me that afternoon, it sat heavy on my heart.

As time went on that night it got easier, as we played again, some light roleplay, love and sex and positive attention, and it took me a while and I was reluctant… but it brought me back little by little, until it snapped into place.

I was His again completely.

I went to sleep happy that night, not traumatised or hurting or feeling bad, I went to sleep in the man I adores arms and I was happy because I had got through it and I was there, fully there, so bright and alive and in love with my Master, the man with a completeness it takes my breath away.

Footnote: The other four piercing… well I think, I hope I will cope a lot better, and we have decided that I wont be in bondage, that I can face them as an adult…

I stood there dressed.  Ready.  Black latex long sleeved body suit  stretch fitted to my skin, embellishing my curves, snugly capturing my breasts.  Legs black as night in dark clinging opaque tights.  My collar resting over the high neck of the black latex, its vivid redness sharp contrast.

My hands are pushed into black socks, my fists clenched, my wrists captured with tape, round and round, encasing me, taking away the humanity of my fingers.  Useless now my paws sit before me, I can brush my nose to appease an itch, but anything requiring complex hand movement ..no.

As I stand there with my heart accelerating I bow my head as he pushes the dark sombre stretchy hood.  It is arranged, all that can be seen now are my eyes, eyes burning bright in its captive haven.

Then it is time for dehumanising.

I have to ponder at this point in, why pet play was laughable to me until recently.  The reason I believe is that for me, for it to be true pet play it wouldn’t be playing as such.  It would be living the part, being truly treated like a pet, looking like a pet (as much as possible) behaving like a pet, being as true to the part as possible, and somehow made to feel the part.

In this I feel a lot of people do not succeed, in this as everything Master succeeded… and how.

The muzzle is fitted onto my head, strapped onto me, strapped to become as one with me.  To create me as a puppy.  The finishing touch.  Once I am inside this snouted cage I feel animalistic, totally dehumanised.

And I feel somehow oddly free.

I lost myself in the role immediately. I cannot explain to you why except it all felt right.  I did not feel stupid or awkward, or absurd.  I felt like Master’s puppy, a beloved pet for him to play with, for him to amuse himself with.

It was liberating to me as someone who is darkly submissive, whose waking dreams are deeper and darker than many others…  I felt as though I was lost in a dream, a dark twisted reality where I was centre stage, begging, prancing, yipping, yapping, following, adoring.

I became the puppy, I felt like a puppy, eager to please.  Desperate to make her Master happy, adorably sublimely wet with pleasure when she feels her masters hand on her.

Memories of moments flash by me now, this experience was a few weeks ago, so my tale is edited by time, sharpened to points of experience, to moments of in focus reality.

Pawing across the room I chase my toy.  Master idly throws it around the flat for me.  I bound after it, panting with pleasure.  I catch it, chase it back to Master, push at it with my paws, roll it across to him, direct its roll with my paw again and again till it reaches Master’s feet.

Again he tosses it into the flat, this time it falls in the kitchen.  I pad over to it, my muzzle restricting my view a little, so I tilt my head from side to side to spot it, and zone in on it.  Tilting and looking, panting and chasing, eager, eager little puppy.  Chases it home to Master again.

I pad back across the room to master, toy pushed along by paws.  I see he has laid out a furry rug on the floor for me, and he orders me to lie on it on my back.  I do so in a way I feel a puppy would move, my limbs responding as a puppy, not through effort or effect, but because it feels right to move that way.

I bark once for no twice for yes, I can only communicate this way, this is all I am a puppy, an animal I have no voice, and once lost in the role I cannot imagine speaking, to bark, it feels perversely right.

I lie looking up at the ceiling through my muzzle, my legs at an angle, relaxed, my arms bent and up in the air slightly.

My breathing quickens as Master starts to rub me, to touch me and rub my belly and front.  Tells me what a good little puppy I am, and I preen inside at the attention and love lavished on me.  He rubs his hand across my cunt vigorously, rubbing me rudely, making me wet, touching me, touching, rubbing, roughly making me whine a little.  He steps it up, rubs me more, all the while telling me what a cute little puppy I am, telling me how he knows I like to be rubbed.  Tells me to howl when I cum, and I cant hold back, I have to cum for my Master.  I feel completely in the part, completely sublimely lost in the play.

I howl.

We play like this for a while I don’t know how long, I know it felt deliciously sublimely wrongly wonderful.

At one point I am fed water from a bowl, I lap at it and drink, slurping the water up.  But I Prefer it when my hood and muzzle are on.  Without them I don’t feel quite right, not quite the animal, not completely lost in it all.

I am happy when the muzzle is back on me, and we play again.

Two more things happen that I recall rather well.

One was fantastic.

One fantastically terrible.

Terrible first you say? Your wish is my command.

Master clips the lead on me firmly, he leads me across the floor.  I struggle to keep up, on all fours as I am, but I struggle to do so.  He leads me across the room and into the landing.  I think he is going to take me to the playroom… to play? Perhaps.  Or the bedroom… to mmmm?

He starts to walk down the stairs and I look at him in blankness.  it’s a part of the game I think to myself he wont really take me outside.  And how am I to get down the stairs on all fours? How? How? He sees me hesitate and motion at the stairs.  He tells me to come down them on my bum, using my paws to lever me down.  I do so, it doesn’t cross my mind to say no, to say please don’t, to ask him not to humiliate me this way.  I wonder if he will open the door, maybe peek me outside, to scare me, to push me.  What surprised me though was that deep inside me I knew I would do it, that if he wanted to take me out I would go.  For this man I would do almost anything.  (yes almost anything, I am not a fool I know everyone even the most debauched of us has their limits.)

He goes to open the door, and stops.  Grinning at me, tells me to get back upstairs.  The glee in his eyes so apparent.

Fantastic?

Well for me the fantastic usually revolves around sexual acts.  The most wonderful most fantastic surrender hits me when I am fucked in some way.

In sex I can lose myself completely, be whoever he wants me to be, play the part inside myself as well as outside myself.

Because I was so wantonly lost in the puppy role already, so deliciously abandoned to being his puppy, the sex was mind-blowing for me.  I was wetter than I think he has ever felt me, more lost, more orgasmic.

My mind ran free my body lost within its confines.

I Howled I gasped I grunted, I wriggled. I came again and again.

I left the bed wet.  I left my role unwillingly.  I wanted to be a puppy forever, or at least in that moment I did.

And my god I am not ashamed.

I was a puppy and I adored it.

One upon a time I went to a party.  I was so excited and nervous.  I am quite shy in groups of people and I often overcompensate by drinking too much.  This is not ideal I know, but when you are shy of people it is an easy solution.

After I had drunk a few drinks I lost my nerves and started to mingle, started to relax, and talk to people.

My master played with me a little, I enjoyed myself, relaxed around the company.  Lost my inhibitions.

Then when I was walking through the hallway someone kissed me.  We had chatted a little a few times.  He was nice and easy to be around.  I kissed him back.  I wasn’t thinking about it being bad, it didn’t really occur to me.  I would never have instigated it, but I reciprocated.  Which is just as bad really.

I knew my friend had seen it, and I assumed she would tell my Master.  I tried not to think too much about it.

When he didn’t say anything I assumed he knew and didn’t care, or didn’t know.

I pushed it out of my mind…

But in the back of my mind I was afraid to broach the subject.  Occasionally it would niggle at me the feeling that I had done something not good…. I was collared that evening, I should have told him what had happened, I know this.

I think it was insecurity, I feared he would *fire* me for being a slut for letting him kiss me.  I didn’t think he would understand that I was drunk and didn’t do it out of lust or even liking of the man involved.  To me he was completely unimportant,  inconsequential to me and to us.

So why did I keep quiet? I don’t know.  One thing I do know is I would never do that again.  Never keep something like that from my Master he deserves so much better from me.

I don’t remember how or why but it came out in conversation one night on the phone with Master.  He was shocked and speechless at what I had done.  He made me realise that my sin was not to tell him, that I had let him down severely.  He felt his trust in me was compromised, and in this he was justified really.  I behaved badly.  Not so much a drunken kiss with a man I didn’t know.  But keeping it from him when I could so easily have gone and told him and it would have all been dealt with instantly and moved on from.

Instead the problem dragged on.

Weeks of me keeping a secret that sat uncomfortably with me when it came to mind.

And weeks after he found out where I felt I had to regain his trust in me.  Waiting for my punishment.

This weekend I finally got my punishment, a just punishment for my crime.

My punishment was to have my mouth stapled and my lips sewn together for an hour.

I was afraid afraid of the pain, fearful of how I would cope like that, the total loss of the use of my mouth.  Unable to communicate unable to breath except through my nose….

To make matters worse he chained me to the table on my back, restrained with cuffs, my body encased in latex, my head in a hood and harness, light all blocked out.  I was afraid, he only did this when I was to receive something sever something I would struggle against.

Yet no… it wasn’t severe not really.  But I was so frightened and wound up he had to calm me down.

He made me orgasm again and again, the tens pads on a little too high a setting on my large tits, my tits and pussy the only parts of me open to the air… to him.  He licked me, played with me, used a vibrator on me, held my hands at times while I lay there, helpless and prone.  I was dehumanised I was nothing, just a rubber cum doll lying there taking his ministrations.  Cumming and cuummming over and over.  He told me I had to beg to be let free, I had to bed “For my punishment” to have my mouth stapled shut.  I didn’t think id reach the point id do it, that I would beg for it I was so scared.

I felt a sharp sting in my breast and he said that he had used a staple on me, it wasn’t so bad… didn’t hurt that much…

In the end of course I did beg, I beseeched him to do it, to punish me, to make things right.

And then….

He dressed me ready for my punishment, applied my makeup, prepared me…

I knelt before him, shaking with fear and anticipation, my hands on the arms of his chair.

I couldn’t meet his eyes, the whole way through I looked away from his eyes, the eyes of the man I love, the eyes I love to look into… I couldn’t.

The first staple went in the centre above my top lip, and I screamed, the pain was intense, much more intense than it had been in my tit.  Yet I knew what hurt more what pained me was inside me, that I was feeling this more because I felt it hurt right to the quick of me.  That I was being punished, truly punished, and I couldn’t bear it that I had let him down so that we had to do this, that it had come to this.

I cried my heart out as he put those staples into me, I was shaking and crying, and I have never felt greater pain.  But I think it was because I wanted to feel the pain, I didn’t switch it off, I focused on it, made it more intense, because I *deserved* it, because I needed to feel it.

Once all the staples were in he laced my mouth together with black ribbon, it took some time, and I just knelt there, my eyes averted, as he did it, the occasional whimper escaping me.

Then it was done, I was sewn shut, like a freakish doll, a macabre human toy.

I stayed there, on the cushion on the floor at his feet.

Sat there thinking, and not thinking, he took photographs of me as he always does with anything new, for us to remember by, for me to look at after.

“Remember feles” he said, “communication is so important, don’t forget that”

On that I thought then, about communication, about my sin, my omission, about all I could have lost had he not forgiven me.

The phone rang and he chatted to a friend of his a woman, chatted and laughed with her.  Even told her what he had done to me.  I felt like nothing sat there, a nothing and a no-one, my voice was gone, I was gone too…

After half an hour he told me I could have it taken off, but I shook my head, refused.  He didn’t understand so he made me write it down.

“I want it on for the full hour“ I wrote.  This is what I wanted, I didn’t want to shirk on my punishment I wanted it in full.  He was satisfied I had suffered enough, but I was not.  I needed to do the full hour for me.  He shrugged and agreed to let me stay like that.

As the hour approached I felt as though my lips were actually sealing together, my mouth had dried and I felt imprisoned even more.  I fought the urge to move my lips to try and open my mouth, I struggled against my feelings.

Once the hour was up I knelt before him again, and gently he released me, cut the ribbon from me, and removed the staples gently with the remover. I was free again.

We hugged, he held me and I had tears in my eyes again.

My punishment was over and I knew he loved me completely, and I knew id do my best never to let him down again.