As I toweled off after my shower I could see in the full-length mirrors that the stripes on my ass and thighs had faded considerably over the last three weeks while she was gone, and the redness and black & blue marks on my cock had healed to a medium pink color. The cock was still a bit sensitive to the hot water, but not uncomfortably so.

I went to the playroom and lay across spanking-bench number one (I have three at my place and Mistress has two at hers.) This bench is designed to cause a deep bend of the body, with holes for access from under the bench to the breasts and nipples as well as cock (or pussy) respectively. Over the holes for the nipples is a moveable bench-wide strip of cocoa-mat Velcroed from one side to the other at the exact location where the recipient’s nipples are. That strip can be removed to give direct nipple access from underneath the bench. As I lay there awaiting the arrival of Mistress that scratchy mat was irritating my nipples. When nipples have been sensitized or stretched first, this can be excruciating. This bench also has a series of tie-down loops, cuffs, and straps placed strategically all around its sides and the bottom of all its legs.

While laying there a slight breeze from the hidden fan built into the high ceiling of the room caused me to feel a feathery touch of air across my asshole, making me keenly aware of how vulnerable it was. Once I was strapped onto that bench my ass, anus, balls, cock, and the inner and back sides of my thighs would be totally available to my Mistress. She could do anything that her cruel mind desired, and I would be absolutely helpless to stop her.

Gradually over the built-in speakers in the ceiling I could begin to hear the recorded sounds of straps landing on bodies, screams of pain, begging, cane-strokes, pleading, enema bags being filled, and crying from both men and women, many of them me in previous sessions, gradually getting louder. This served to build a fear in me, reminding me of what was soon coming. My asshole began to tighten and my balls retracted in subconscious protection of my most sensitive parts, and I began to relive the terror of many of the past events I was hearing.

After about twenty minutes my Mistress walked in, the click of her high-heels resonating over the sounds of the tape being played. Other than the shoes, stockings, and black garter belt she was entirely nude. The perfume she had placed on her lower back and abdomen made a powerful connection inside of me, bringing me to a hard erection. She was carrying a large tray, and its contents were covered by a large towel. She placed them on the credenza on the wall next to the bench on which I lay. From under the towel she removed a large metal bowl and carried it into the adjacent bathroom and returned with it half filled with steaming hot water.

Turning to me, she wordlessly cuffed my hands straight over my head and down to the bottom of the top of the bench. At the other end she cuffed my ankles and the middle of my thighs to the bench-legs and buckled straps over my middle calves and thighs and pulled them tight. Similar long straps were pulled over my lower back and just under my shoulders and tightened. Lastly she placed the same pair of panties that she had worn all day yesterday and then put on the table at the restaurant Friday into my mouth, being sure to see that the gusset was inside out and resting against my tongue. Over this she inserted and buckled behind my head a large rubber ball-gag.

“Slave, I’m going to now spend some time just sensitizing your skin in various places in order to prepare them to deeply feel the activities to follow. You will not be able to talk to me at all with that gag in, and I can speak candidly to you without fear of anyone hearing our “conversation”. It’s just you and me in this sound-proof room, and I will try to keep you informed of what I am doing, since you often won’t be able tell.

With that she uncovered the tray on the credenza and I saw a variety of things including liquid and bar-soap, two straight-razors and a few safety-razors, sterilizing alcohol, sandpaper, and brushes of various sizes. Also ominously on the tray were a can of Comet Cleanser and a box of Brillo pads.

She began by examining my body thoroughly. Running her hands lightly over the cheeks of my ass she said, “I see a very light, thin hair like peach fuzz here, and I don’t want that getting in the way of my paddles, straps, whips, canes, or other instruments. So I am going to shave it off completely.” Spreading my cheeks apart further she commented, “For a man you have very little pubic hair in your crack and around your anus or testicles, but even a small amount can insulate you from the crack-whips and straps, so I am going to get rid of it.” From the top as well as under the holes in the bench she examined the wisps of pubic hair there, and made a similar comment. Ditto as she pulled my genitals sharply to the right and then to the left, exposing the high insides of my thighs. Finally, with a fast yank she pulled the cocoa mat from under my nipples to give her access to them from under the bench.

Then, taking a bar of Lava soap, she put it into the bowl of hot water and lathered up her hands, and rubbed the lather all over my cheeks. “I am purposely not using shaving crème on you because it has soothing ingredients like aloe and lanoline, so I am instead using Lava Mechanic’s Hand Soap as a shaving crème. It does a good job of sensitizing the skin into which it is rubbed, as you will see. You will soon discover the pumice that it contains, as well as the diluted lye (sodium hydroxide) in it, gives it a bit of an irritating effect, but you’ll just have to take it. The more you cooperate the sooner I can rinse it off, so it is up to you.”

It must have taken her at least 30 minutes to use the straight-razor to shave every little hair off of my ass, cock, and balls. Then she sat in a chair, reached under the bench and lathered the exposed parts of me, including my nipples, and shaved them. I didn’t dare move a muscle, and was having a hard time breathing as she used the straight-razor on my genitals. One slip with that extremely sharp razor could slice me to ribbons. All this time the soap lightly burned my cheeks, and I wished she would hurry and rinse it off. But instead she pulled my ass apart one cheek at a time and used the soapy lather and a safety-razor to carefully shave across, around, and near my asshole, the soap irritating more than ever. Then she lathered and shaved my upper thighs and flanks all the way around.

Finally she finished shaving me, and said, “Now I can’t see even as much as one hair anywhere in the way of my instruments. I’ll now rinse off the remaining soap.” She did so, and it was strange how different my ass and genitals felt in the cool air of the room. Now I was really naked! It all felt cold, and I wondered to myself if that was because it was so much more sensitive and the air had no hair blocking it from getting to my skin, or if it was just from my fear of what was to come.

She finished, saying “I want you to lay there and imagine how tremendously sensitive your skin is now, and how much more effective my toys will be. I am going downstairs to smoke a joint and relax while you just lie there worrying. And, trust me, you have good cause to be afraid. I’m also going to take some of my herbal aphrodisiac to help psych me deeply into my sadism. I’m very, very horny right now, but I want to be even more so. I’ll be back in a little while.”

As she left, she gradually faded up the sound recordings of the past sessions so that the screams of myself and others, and our begging and pleading, would force me to imagine the worst things she had ever done to us so far. She had never shaved my ass before, or my cock, balls, and thighs. She had some very, very painful things planned, I could see it in her eyes. And it scared me to the core.

Upon her return she took the basin of cool, soapy water into the bathroom, rinsed it, refilled it, and returned it to the credenza. Then she came around to the head of the bench and held my head up by the hair, forcing me to look into her eyes and see the cruelty burning there. She held that stare for at least two or three whole minutes, obviously getting off on the fear in my own eyes.

Finally, dropping my head, she took adhesive tape out of the drawer in the credenza and taped my ass-cheeks wide open. That gave her an unrestricted view of my anus, and she reached up and moved the overhead flood-light to illuminate it more. With a wet washcloth she dribbled water down the crack and across my asshole, and took the can of Comet Cleanser and sprinkled a thick coating on it.

“I am now taking this little brush, which is designed for cleaning test-tubes in the lab, and use it along with the abrasive cleanser to take the outer layer of skin off of your anus. I want it hypersensitive to my attentions.” She began initially lightly rubbing the bristles of the little round brush back and forth and from side to side then all around the small opening. Then she began to increase the pressure and I moaned loudly from the pain. She ignored me, and finally pressed the little brush about an inch into my rectum and began to slowly spin it. I think that my howl through the gag must have been heard even across the street. My asshole was scraped raw, and it burned and hurt a lot.”

“I’m sure you think that your anus is bleeding now, but actually it is not – YET! Now we’ll let this side of you rest for a few minutes.” With this she sat down in a low chair, pulled my cock back through the hole and wet it with the washcloth. She spread a layer of Comet all around and over the top of the head, and about 3” down the shaft then brought over a toothbrush from the tray on the credenza. With the brush she scrubbed the cleanser thoroughly into my cock and the pain was so great that it caused me to try to break the leather cuffs and straps holding me down. Round and round those stiff little nylon bristles scraped, gradually taking the top layer of skin off and leaving the raw, nerve-laden skin exposed below. When she finished with the brush and rinsed off the Comet with a wet washcloth every muscle in my entire body was as tight as possible, and she let me just lie there until my crying eased.

She then removed the tapes holding my cheeks apart. I expected to feel more Comet being poured on, but instead saw through my tears her opening the box of Brillo Pads and soaking one in the water-basin. She wrung it out twice, letting the soap in it foam. The next 20 minutes or so were spent with her using those little steel-wool pads all over my ass-cheeks, thighs, scrotum, and the bottom part of my cock. This did appear to open up some small scrapes on my ass, and the feel of the strong soap from the pads in those wounds was like the fires of hell, but it didn’t stop her. With the Brillo Pads she also attacked my tender nipples, scraping them raw.

When she was finished I was a sobbing, screaming, hurting wreck. I felt like all of the energy had been sucked out of me like a sponge, and I was exhausted from crying so hard. Parts of my body were burning painfully, and I was exhausted. As a final step in my preparation for what was to come she took from the credenza a pair of “enhanced” clover clamps, with extra tight springs and hard pads of plastic male Velcro material glued to each side of the jaws. These were fastened to each of my sensitive, nipples, leaving the short hooks dangling down under the bench.

“Well, slave, I think we both need a short nap for a while. I’m going to leave you strapped down here with the gag in as well. By now you must have sucked my panties very clean! I’m going downstairs and take a nap, and leave you here to build up some strength for the rest of the weekend. I imagine that the aphrodisiac and Viagra I wrapped into the panties in your mouth must be beginning to have an effect, because I see your bright red cock is very hard. Enjoy it, and rest. I will be back; you can count on it!”

***************************************

In pain and terror I lay there helplessly, in my mind imagining all of the punishing things that she could do to me. All of my ass, genitals, and nipples burned, and the pain in my nipples grew by the minute as the clamps seemed to get tighter and tighter. It is hard to describe, but my ass and anus felt a magnified sense of the air around them. It felt as if every sensory nerve in my bottom was exposed and just awaiting its punishment.

As I lay there, I began an internal dialogue within me, berating myself for having been so disobedient to the orders Mistress gave me before she left for her trip. I wanted to shout, “Oh Mistress, I am so, so sorry for not following your instructions and violating your trust. And I promise to never do so again. But please don’t punish me and hurt me. Your preparations just now have taught me to do better, and I learned the lesson well. Please Mistress . . . I’ll eat your pussy and ass for hours at a time. I’ll massage your back and front any time you want. I’ll come over and do the dishes at your house, and clean, dust, and vacuum all of the rooms. I will take you out to bars and help you pick up other men, and if you order me to I will strip them, orally suck them hard, and place their cocks into you, then watch as they ravage you. When they are finished I will suck you clean and them as well. I will offer them my asshole if you get tired and/or sore. I will let them cane me and paddle me, and accept their large, punishing enemas so that they can laugh at my struggling to take and hold them. Please, please Mistress, I offer all of this to you if you will just unstrap me and forego this punishment here today and for the rest of the weekend.” However, I know that she is very strict, and unlikely to let me off so easily. And I knew that at that moment she was downstairs getting ready to exercise her sadistic cruelty on me, and that I was powerless to stop it.

From the vivid images in my mind, and all of these things I was thinking of, I realized that the load of aphrodisiac she had given me was even larger than usual, and the Viagra was making it impossible to make my hard, throbbing erection go away, causing the stretched, scraped skin on my cock to make every moment a torture as I awaited her return. My ass had never felt so sensitive, and my anus throbbed with a burning pain. My nipples were pulsing with pain with each heartbeat. The wait alone was excruciating. Thinking of her downstairs digesting that female aphrodisiac and smoking a joint, which I know makes her increasingly horny and meaner, was scary. Knowing that she was taking a short nap and building up her dominance and energy, made me dread her return. I didn’t know if I could bear to take all that she was going to do to me. I was a bundle of mixed emotions, with overpowering fear at the top of the list.

It was almost an hour of agonizing waiting before I heard her heels clicking on the stairs as she came back up the stairs, entered the room, and closed the sound-proof door. She was still nude, except for her stockings, garter belt, and shoes. Her long hair was cascading down over her shoulders and down her back, and her beauty radiated throughout the room. But her dilated pupils reminded me that she was slightly stoned and with no inhibitions short of safety. This was affirmed by the cruelty and excitement expressed through her face.

Through the gag I tried to moan and make noise so that she would remove it and let me talk and beg for relief, but she ignored me and went about her preparations. She started by taking from the wall the largest enema bag we have, the 6-quart one, and took it into the bathroom and filled it. Coming back in the punishment room with it she made sure I saw her pour into it, on top of the water already there, about a pint of Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Castile Soap. She hung it on the hook on the wall about 7’ above the floor and directly in front of the bench where I could plainly see it. It was translucent, and I could tell that it was very full. The nozzle she installed on the hose was one I had never seen before, and she showed it to me and said, rhetorically, “How do you like this new nozzle I bought you in Seattle?” I saw that it had three egg-shaped balls, along the cock-like shaft, about a 1 & 7/8”, a 2 & ¼”,and a 2 & ½” one, all separated from one another by about a 1” diameter shaft, with the section leading from the largest egg to the hose fitting being about 1 & ½”. It was clearly designed for anal punishment and long retention. I shook my head side to side to say no to her question. She now went back into the bathroom and returned with several bottles, including KY Jelly, Vicks Vaporub, Mentholatum Ointment, and Capsaisin Ointment.

Then I saw her climb up on a chair and hang a pulley from an eye-bolt in the ceiling through which a strong nylon rope was threaded, onto the bolt about 6’ back from the rear of the bench. Looking directly at me she said, “Surely you did not think that your swollen balls would be escaping any punishment did you? I know that I gave them a little workout last night when we got home, but wait until you see what I have in store for them now.” That said, she attached a leather parachute collar tightly around my balls, trapping them below the collar, and pulled them up out of the hole in the bench to do so, then releasing them to hang down through the hole again. “I will be able at any time to connect your balls to the pulley rope and hang heavy, punishing weights on the other end of the rope. But for now I’ll just let them hang through the hole in the bench so that they are out of the way."

As she was telling me this she attached a small pulley to the middle of the cross-member between the rear legs of the bench, and then through it threaded the end of the rope coming down from the ceiling pulley. She finished by tying a snap-connector to the end of the rope, which ran up through the ceiling pulley and down to the bottom of the bench-pulley. The connector she had tied on also kept the rope from pulling back out of the lower pulley. Now pulling down on the rope on one side of the ceiling pulley had the effect of equally pulling down on the rope coming up from the bottom-pulley on the bench.

From a drawer in the credenza she brought out ten little 8-oz lead deep-sea fishing weights and placed them on a small table next to the bench, within her reach any time she wanted them. Each had an S-hook attached. Bending down, she attached one of the weights to each respective clover-clamp that was torturing my nipples, and pain shot all through the nipples and caused them to be stretched out tight. This caused the clamps to also pinch tighter, greatly increasing the pain.

Going to the wall, Mistress picked up a heavy leather tawse and carried it back to the bench, standing on my left side. She turned the crank on the side of the bench to somewhat lower my ass to take some of the tight stretch out of my cheeks, yet leave them parted. She took a few minutes for my crying over the nipple-pain to settle, and then said, “We are going to begin your punishment with this leather tawse. It’s leather, is oiled, and therefore heavy, and I think you will really feel it. You are going to get thirty strokes on each side of your ass, with each one aimed short to cause the tips to curl down deep in the valley, many of them warming your little skinned anus. Then I will give you your first enema to hold as the next part of your punishment begins. Remember two things, slave. First, that you have earned this punishment through disobedience to my orders while I was gone. And second, that I absolutely love giving this to you and seeing you suffer as a test of your submission and devotion to me. I get off on disciplining you. So, brace yourself. Here it comes.

With a short pause I saw her raise the tawse way back over her right shoulder and then bring it slashing down hard onto my left ass-cheek, the tips wrapping down to snap hard at my asshole. I almost went into shock from the pure, intense, scorching pain, and moaned and cried out loudly through my gag, for I knew I could not take even one more stroke. My unintelligible noises were ignored and immediately a second stroke fell, landing just below the first, and then with no pause a third one connected hard just above the first. That cheek was burning up, more sensitive than it had ever been before. Clearly, this was no game but rather a serious punishment.

At about the eighth hard stroke of the leather I slid down into sub-space in my head, starting to feel not only the pain but also a deep and abiding love, respect, and fear for the woman who was giving it to me. I vowed to ride it out until she was satisfied, even though I could not even imagine how I could last through all of this agony. Following the twentieth hit Mistress stopped momentarily and ran one of her fingertips slowly down the inside of that left cheek, feeling the welts that were still swelling up there. Then she walked around to the other side of the bench and gave me twenty fast, hard strokes to the right cheek of my ass, a couple of times the very tip of the tawse ticking against the strokes on the other side as they wrapped hard down into the valley.

With very little pause, Mistress walked around the bench and targeted the left side of my anus with the last ten strokes for that side. Then she finished up the remaining ten of the right side of my asshole. It felt like I had sat down on a lit stove, such was the burning on my sensitized bottom and its hole.

I hardly felt her stick her lubricated fingers into my asshole and spread Vicks Vaporub around. Normally I would hardly feel the menthol in that lubricant, but due to the vastly increased sensitivity of my anus and rectum the substance began to burn immediately. Knowing that the body heat of her fingers would aid the Vicks in entering the pores in the lining of my rectum, she took her time at lubricating it deeply. This also gave me a little while to settle down and lower the volume of my cries.

“Now I am going to give you the first quart of this punishment enema. Remember, this is only 1/6th of the bag, with plenty more to come. You are going to hold this for the duration of your time on this punishment bench. The new nozzle this time will only be inserted to the end of the first egg, which is under just 2” in size. If you feel a very strong urgency to go as I am giving you this enema, nod your head make a sound and I will shut it off for thirty seconds before proceeding. But, you will take the entire quart before we can continue, and it will simply make your total punishment time longer.”

I saw the hose leading from the bag on the wall move, and felt the large nozzle pushing to open my sore anal sphincter, but it failed to penetrate the first time. Mistress then withdrew it partially, then pushed again harder, and the anus somewhat grudgingly gave way and the plastic egg on the end of the nozzle slid in, with the sphincter closing over it. With a snap of the clip the soapy water began to flow, and initially felt good. However it was not long before a cramp began to grow, and in panic I signaled Mistress to shut it off. The cramp never reached its full strength, though I feared that it would, and Mistress started the flow back up. The next cramp was stronger, and with only about 2/3 of the first quart in I signaled again for a stop, and got it. I was pleasantly surprised at how kind my Mistress was being with allowing these stops, and I hoped that she would continue. The water churned around my colon, and each time a cramp started to develop I feared that it might become so strong that I would embarrass myself, but after a while it settled down.

“You have been so good so far slave that I have decided to remove the gag from you. I want to be able to hear your screams, cries, and entreaties from now on.” She proceeded to do so, taking off the ball-gag and removing her panties from my mouth. She even gave me a small sip of cold water, which went a long way toward relieving the dryness in my mouth from holding her garment there for so long. Then she turned the crank on the bench the other way, lowering my ass and allowing the cheeks to close and loosen somewhat.

Walking to the wall, she hung the tawse back up and returned with a hard rubber very flexible paddle into which holes had been drilled to prevent air resistance when swinging it. I was very conscious of the enema inside of me as she said, “Now, before your ass cools down I’m going to warm it up again with this rubber paddle. You are getting a total of 50 strokes on your ass, in groups of five. After that, twenty strokes on the back of each thigh. Here goes!”

Standing to my left she swung the paddle hard and it landed across the center of both cheeks. It was a very different hurt from that of the tawse, but possibly even more painful. The rubber seemed to almost adhere to the skin and then rapidly get peeled away on each stroke. The strokes continued, hard and unrelenting. Mistress seemed pleased with my screams and crying, hitting harder to force me to scream and squeal louder. Thankfully these hits did not wrap down into the valley between my cheeks, but they did open up some new territory by wrapping around the opposite flank. For this reason Mistress alternated after each five strokes to continue on the other side. When my ass was finished she came to the head of the bench and lifted my head and kissed me hard on the lips, saying into my ear “I really wish I could say that I am sorry that you have to put up with so much hurt today, but frankly I am getting off on it and looking forward to giving you a lot more. If you can see my pussy, you should be proud of the evidence of how much your suffering turns me on.”

The remaining 20 strokes on each upper thigh were excruciating. This was unexplored territory in this session, and she explored it thoroughly and strongly. I pleaded with her loudly to stop, and tried to assure her that I had learned my lesson, but she ignored me and just hit harder. I knew that between these strikes and those on the lower parts of my ass cheeks and in the valley from this paddle and the tawse, sitting down for any length of time was going to be impossible for a while.

When the thighs were completely reddened, she reinstalled the enema nozzle, this time through the second larger egg, and turned the flow on. The soapy water gushed into me, and I begged her to turn it off when a cramp started, but she responded, “No, now that I can hear you beg so nicely I am going to just let it run until the second quart is installed.” My pleading fell not on deaf ears, but on cruel ones. She was clearly enjoying this punishment! I tried to relax my abdomen to allow the water more space, and was partially successful in relieving some of the cramping. But I was still very afraid of losing it.

When she finished inserting the second quart she shut off the hose and immediately removed the nozzle. This had the effect of opening my anus to extract the large eggs on the nozzle, and I had to immediately squeeze it closed to retain the large load from coming out. I am sure this was done on purpose, for Mistress knows that leaving the nozzle in after an enema assists in making retention easier.

Reaching under the bench I felt Mistress attach the parachute squeezing my balls together and pulling on them to the snap-connector on the bench end of the rope. Then, going to the other end of the rope where it came down from the ceiling-pulley, she attached to it the handle of a large metal mop-pail. The weight of the pail pulled down on that end of the rope, effectively causing my balls to be pulled down through the hole in the bench from the the rope coming up from the bench-pully between the back legs of the bench. The weight of the pail put a moderate pull on the rope, tugging down on my balls, but it was bearable.

As I lay there feeling the activity of the soapy water in my guts, I heard Mistress begin to speak again. “Now you are going to get a long, hard caning on your ass and thighs. Your sentence is for 150 strokes. I am going to do them in rounds of 50 cuts, with a stop for an additional enema after each 50. However, after the first round is finished, and the additional quart of fluid has been added to torment your abdomen, I have more to tell you.”

With that she went to the wall and brought back one of the long Senior Canes, ¾” in diameter and 42” long. Few people can take even 30 strokes of that instrument, and she was forcing me to take 50. I knew that I was getting exhausted from screaming so much and panting in an effort to retain the enema, and was scared – actually terrified – of taking 50 cuts from that big cane. And Mistress knew it, and relished my fear.

Just before the first hard stroke landed across the thickest part of my ass I noted that the pussy juice was beginning to run down the inside of Mistress’s thighs. It was glistening in the light of the room, and I had just begun to fantasize licking it off when the cut landed, creating a deep welt across both cheeks. In agony I screamed out, and she responded with two more cuts of similar strength across the same part of my ass. Every ten cuts she changed sides, and the pain was radiating all over my lower body and causing me to tighten every muscle in a subconscious attempt at protection. The agony was beyond description, and after the first twenty cuts ended my mind could not even begin to grasp the fact that we were still at less than the half-way point to the fifty strokes. I could not even begin to imagine that there were going to be another hundred strokes after that. At the same time I was trying to steel myself for more of the current round I realized how much more sensitive my body was to this punishment than usual, as a result of the preparation with the brush, Comet, Brillo Pads, and Lava Mechanics’ Hand Soap beforehand.

Strokes 21 – 30 were delivered in sets of five on each thigh, extending the burning agony further down my body. About the 33rd or 34th stroke to my painfully burning sore ass I descended deeply into sub-space in my mind and, while still feeling the intense agony of every swat I was able to cope better with the feeling of how pleased and fulfilled my Mistress was that I would take so much for her.

After the 50th stroke the caning stopped and it must have taken me at least ten minutes to come back to normal headspace and become aware that my Mistress was talking to me. She noticed when I was fully back to the present, and said the following: “I am looking forward to giving you another quart of your enema punishment. When I finish that you will begin to really feel the punishment cramps, and you will only have the other half of the six-quart bag still to take. Let’s get it done! And no stopping this time, so don’t even ask.” With that I heard the clip snap open and the fluid rush to fill me. The mounting pressure in my abdomen was very painful, and it continued even after the quart was finished and she removed the nozzle. The cramps were so bad that I was afraid I was going to be sick.

I heard her say, “Now we may be able to make a deal to save you from having to take all the rest of that huge bag of soapy water. First I want you to remember that one quart of water weighs 2.1 pounds. Here’s my offer: I would be willing to remove one quart now from the enema bag, if you will allow me to put it into the bucket pulling on your balls. This is a one-time offer for just a single quart, and it is take it or leave it right now. What have you decided,” she said, with a cruel grin? “And be sure to state the exact terms that you are accepting if you decide to do so.”

At that moment a huge cramp hit me, and I was just on the verge of losing it and making a mess. I was willing to do anything, I mean truly anything, to relieve that pressure and agonizing cramping. So I said, “Yes, I’ll take the deal. Please remove one quart from the bag and put it into the bucket connected to my balls.”

Smiling, Mistress reached the bucket and pulled it over to a shelf on the wall next to the punishment bench, which automatically slacked the rope. Taking the nozzle from the enema bag she drew off one full quart of the soapy water into a pitcher, then climbed on a chair and poured the water into the bucket. Saying, “You have made a wise decision, because as you know holding a six-quart enema for any length of time would be very painful. Now, however, since the water I drew off of the bag was assigned to your punishment, it is only fair that it continue to provide that service. Accordingly, brace yourself and take a deep breath.” I did so, and with a short pause of a few seconds Mistress reached up and pushed the bucket off of the shelf on which she had it sitting. The bucket fell as far as the length of the rope would let it, and then jerked to a halt – yanking hard with the 2.1 pounds of water pulling my balls. I yelled, and Mistress laughed with delight. I saw stars, and the pain continued as the bucket hung there swinging on the rope. That weight hanging there, about five feet in the air, was relentless, continuing its steady tug on my aching balls.

Mistress went to the wall and returned the ¾” cane she had been using and returned with one that was about 3/8” in diameter and 36” long. This one was very whippy, which she demonstrated by bending it almost in half.

“I see that your cock is still very hard, which is one of the marks of a true masochist. I am pleased. Isn't it humiliating to know that your cock tells everyone how much you really like to suffer for me? Now let’s see if you can keep it up for the next 100 strokes. We’ll start with 50 more. Brace yourself, and keep that asshole tight so that we don’t have any embarrassing accidents.

The next round of 50 strokes was landing on an ass that was already deeply welted, dark red with some bluish-green marks from former strokes. Mistress whipped that flexible cane hard and rapidly, not stopping to catch her breath until after the first 25 cuts had finished. Because she was using full-arm swings and at the end of the swing snapping her wrist, the tip of the cane was really digging in. This cane was opening up some real breaks in the skin, causing a slight amount of bleeding. While she paused, she went to the bathroom and returned carrying the spray-bottle of concentrated salt-water which is meant for just this exact situation. Spraying a mist of the salt-water onto my sore, cut cheeks she waited to hear my squeels and then sprayed some more. When my squeels and screams got loud enough she started giving me the last 25 strokes of the set, opening some more small wounds in the already salted skin. The stinging and burning on the cheeks when this happens is beyond imagination, and I was hollering at the top of my lungs throughout the entire set of strokes. Making it worse was the affect that the subconscious tightening of the muscles in my abdomen was having on stimulating the enema-cramps on top of the cramps being caused by my throbbing, stretched balls. I was in a world of agony and Mistress stood masturbating as she watched and enjoyed it.

Taking the hand with which she had been stimulating her wet, swollen pussy she reached over and wiped the tears rolling down my face, mixing them with her juices. The aroma, combined with the pains from the punishment of my body, were a strong mix, reinforcing the subspace that had taken over me. Seemingly recognizing this Mistress bent down and took my head between her beautiful breasts, and soothed me for a few minutes to prepare me for the additional pain to come. Her own nipples were hard as rocks.

When I had settled down, she reached under the bench and added an additional 8-oz weight to each throbbing nipple. As she did so she attached the hook from each weight and just dropped them down to cause a hard tug on each sore little bud.

“Before I begin the last fifty cane-strokes, I want to again make the same offer as last time. If you will accept an additional 2.1 lbs of water, one additional quart, added to the bucket pulling on your balls, I will remove that water from the enema bag so that it only leaves only two more quarts in there to force into your ass. What will it be?”

It was a hard decision, but I finally realized that taking a total of five quarts of punishing enema in my suffering anus was just too much. I agreed to her offer, and she immediately tapped off one more quart from the bag into a pitcher and poured it into the bucket. The additional pull on my balls was very hard and painful, because not only was it pulling them but the design of the flexible leather parachute secured around my scrotum acted to squeeze the balls together in proportion to the pull on the rope. After the punishment they had taken from her knee the night before and the rope during this session, they ached and throbbed non-stop.

I saw her pick up the Capsaisin Ointment and lubricate that huge nozzle. I knew that this time all three egg-shaped balls on the nozzle were going to be inserted, the largest one – 2 ½ inches in diameter - for the first time. This pepper-based lubricant on that sensitized, stretched skin would really hurt badly. And that large nozzle had to be inserted all the way in before the enema could be added to the large, cramping load already there before this nightmare could end.

Turning the crank on the side of the punishment bench, she first raised my ass to the maximum height, stretching the skin on my ass very tight. This would make the cane-strokes hurt more, and the marks more destructive of the tissue. This move also had the additional result of pulling my balls to raise the bucket higher, adding to the pain.

Then she started inserting the nozzle in me, and the burning of the Capsaisin lubricant started. The first egg entered easily, but she had to push very hard to get the mid-sized one in. She then tried three times to get the largest one in, and it wouldn’t go. I pleaded with her to stop because the burning was becoming intense, but this just fueled her need to try harder. I tried as hard as I could to assist her and open up as far as possible, but it took a very fast, hard last shove to force it in. Both of us were panting from the effort, so she decided to just stand and watch my anus try to accommodate to having the huge nozzle in it, getting off on my discomfort.

Finally she turned on the enema and ran an additional full quart into me. As it was running she said, “Just be glad that you are tied down so tightly. I would just love to have you, as you retain this enema, squat all the way down then stand all the way up twenty times, then have you do 20 jumping jacks with six of the 8-oz weights attached to the parachute you are wearing.” I knew that she was telling the truth, and shuddered at the possibility. She would really enjoy that, especially if her friends got to watch her exercise her dominance and control over me.

When the additional quart was added to the load in me, she stopped the enema. There was now only one quart left in the bag. Before continuing she offered me for the last time the same deal for the last quart as she had with the two others, and I agreed. I was in a lot of pain, and wanted to get this over with, so I agreed again to take the offer. This time as she added the last 2.1 pound quart to the bucket, the tug on my balls was almost unbearable. She told me that if I didn’t take the remaining 50 stroke caning without complaining or begging, she would try knocking the bucket off the shelf again to give a hard 6.3 pound hard yank on my suffering scrotum.

When she removed the nozzle this time it took over 10 minutes and a lot more lubricant to get the big egg out before removing the other two. Then, walking over to the wall, she chose a thin ¼” rattan cane that was only about 32” in length. Coming back to the bench she bent the cane fully in half and stood there just looking at my heavily marked ass and thighs for a minute. She smiled, beaming with pride.

The last 50 strokes to my wounded ass felt like very strong deep stinging burns to the highly sensitized skin, and served to break some of the blisters from the initial tawse and holed paddle earlier. The whippy wrapping tip of the cane easily snapped down into the valley, adding to the earlier welts there and nicking those on my sore asshole. I struggled throughout to avoid complaining and begging for relief, and just made it with great effort. However I did scream loudly and cry all the way through.

When she finished she kept her promise and did not push the bucket off the shelf. Instead she reached down and unsnapped the end of the rope from the parachute on my balls, and let the bucket down gently. She then unbuckled the cuffs all around and helped me stand up. When I asked her to please remove the clamps from my sore nipples and allow me to go the bathroom she told me she would, but first she had one more punishment to give.

She asked me to stand up straight, which was difficult due to the huge enema load weighing down my stomach. But, anxious to get rid of the nipple clamps and the enema, I struggled and complied. She made me stand sideways to her, and looked down and admired her handiwork on my cock with the Comet Cleanser and toothbrush the night before. “Since that is what got you in trouble in the first place, it is not going to get off so lightly. “She then said, “ten on top, ten underneath, and five directly on the head, and then we are done for now. I want to remind you that you got a forbidden erection with Julie the night you went to dinner with her, and she felt it poking into her when you hugged goodby. Then Joann told me that you got a hard-on in front of her when she was doing the prostate exam on you. You are going to learn from me that you will get an erection instantly whenever I so command you, but you will NOT get hard when I forbid it as I did while I was gone. You need to become more conscious of the state of your cock, and what I am about to do is to start your sensitivity training with this ¼” cane.”

“Put your hands on your head, interlace the fingers, and do not bend over, turn, fall, move, or in any other way try to protect this naughty cock. Here goes.” The ten cane strokes to the top of my it almost made me pass out, and left black and blue stripes across my cock. I struggled to stay upright and to not use my hands to protect this sensitive organ, and succeeded. The ten underhanded ones similarly welted the bottom of my cock, leaving deep welts and stripes across the soft irritated skin on the bottom of my it. But the five to the sensitive head nearly did me in. After the second stroke I reflexively and protectively turned sideways, and I had to apologize and accept her starting over all five strokes, starting again with number one.

As I stood there sobbing, she placed her nude body against me and hugged me until I calmed down. A couple of times she purposely ground her lower body and purposely bumped against me, putting pressure on my enema-full abdomen and laughing at my verbal reaction. Then, reaching up with both hands she quickly removed the clover-clamps and weights and dropped them on the table. When she did that the blood rushed into my tightly pinched, throbbing sore nipples. She reached up again and pinched them hard, almost sending me through the roof with pain.

Smiling she said, “Go to the bathroom and get rid of that enema. If the soap still burns after a couple of hours, beg me and I will consider giving you a couple of clear water enemas to rinse you out. Then take a shower and join me in the bedroom. I have something that needs your tongue to lick it clean. And I really need to cum a lot now.”

The relief from finally expelling the enema was beyond description. It flowed out of me virtually continuously for several minutes, and took at least a half-hour before I was empty. I had to keep interrupting the flow due to the pain of the fluid passing out of me through my very sore rectum. Sitting on the seat of the toilet was very, very painful, and I had to keep avoiding letting any part of my sore cock or balls touch anything. As I was struggling with this I realized that my cock was so sore that it would be impossible for me to fuck anyone or masturbate for a long time, for those stripes and black and blue marks would take weeks to go away.

It also took a long time to complete my shower, for the pressure of the water and its heat irritated the sensitive skin of my ass, balls, cock, and tits. Even the mild soap stung badly, and I had to turn the water temperature down to lukewarm. Even my soft bath-towel hurt, and I had to gently pat my body dry. The only thing that did not hurt was brushing my teeth and brushing my hair.

Entering the bedroom I found Mistress lying in the center of the bed with her legs parted as she slowly masturbated. When she saw my body she laughed, asking me to turn around and telling me that she was very proud of all of my stripes and marks. I commented that my cock was way too sore to fuck, which caused her to reach down and take it gently in her hand and very, very lightly masturbate it for only about five strokes. Her touch made it really hurt badly but it immediately got hard. She threatened more punishment if I did not get it down right away. In spite of the Viagra she had forced into me earlier, I was able to do that this time.

“Since you will not be able to fuck me or anyone else for a while, you will have to cum from prostate stimulation only. For that reason I want you to go back upstairs and bring me the extra-large stainless-steel butt plug which is in the original package in the second drawer down. You’ll notice that I already have one of my strap-on harnesses and dildos on the nightstand on my side of the bed. So, go get the plug right now while I wait. I need to cum very soon.”

When I saw the new package in the drawer in the upstairs punishment room I was shocked. It was huge, and very heavy. Inside the box the plug looked like a long, extra-large trailer-hitch – the kind used for towing very heavy trailers or boats. The flared base instead of having a round retention ring had one that was slightly curved to sit flat between the cheeks without interfering greatly with sitting down with the plug in. I noticed that she had not asked me to bring any lubricant with it, so I took the liberty of taking a tube of KY Jelly with me just in case, but she didn’t need it.

When I got back to the bedroom she made me get in bed, get up on my knees, and bend forward until my shoulders were lying on the sheet. With no foreplay at all I felt her lubricate my anus with something, and found out later that she had used some Crisco from a can in her night-stand. The plug slid in on the first try, undoubtedly because my anus was still gaping slightly from those large eggs on the enema nozzle. I could sense how very heavy this metal plug was even before I stood up, but she immediately lay down and guided me to start licking her VERY wet pussy.

After she had cum at least four times she turned over and ordered me to tongue her ass, and use my tongue as well as my lips. I must have whimpered from the slight friction to my sore cock and balls from the bed-sheet on which we were lying, because her cries of satisfaction got a lot louder and she came over and over again. She was enjoying and celebrating the pain she had caused me.

When she was temporarily satisfied she turned over and asked me to lie on top of her. My cock got hard again and snuck its way between her legs as we lay there, and the pain from touching her wet cunt was both slightly painful and a turn-on at the same time. She quietly explained to me that she had some new orders for me, and that she expected me to obey them to the letter if I wanted to save myself from an even more sadistic repeat of the session we had just had all day. The first rule was that I was to keep that metal butt-plug in all day and night for the next week, with only two exceptions to the rule. They were that I was allowed to remove it to defecate, or on a direct command from her when she wanted to use her strap-on on me. She said that the weight of the device should help me to do involuntary Kegel exercises constantly all day in order to keep it from dropping out. She had also chosen one not only for its thickness but its length, so that it would provide constant stimulation to my prostate. The second rule was that I was not to do anything to directly stimulate my cock or to have anyone else do it until further notice. For the next few weeks I was to be allowed to cum, but only from the prostate stimulation of being fucked in the ass by Mistress.

The third new rule, since I am usually home or get home from one of my consults before she did, was that I must meet her at the door naked each day kneeling when she returned and be holding her harnessed large dildo. I was to say, “Welcome home Mistress. Would you like me to orally serve you or strap your dildo on you so that you can fuck me in the ass?” I was to then instantly do whatever she ordered – even if she had brought others people home with her.

Lastly, the fourth rule was that, since she would not be having the services of my sore cock for at least a couple of weeks or more, she would be frequently bringing other boyfriends home with her to fuck her, and I had to be prepared to serve them in every way. Accordingly, she ordered me to be sure to always have my asshole lubricated and my teeth brushed in case I was needed. I was to be prepared if needed to fluff them to get them hard, insert their cocks into her pussy and/or mouth, and to lick out the products of their fucking from her pussy and his cock. She also warned me that if any of her other lovers wanted to cane me, give me an enema, or put clamps on my nipples I was to accept them, regardless of how sore or humiliated I already was. These new orders were to go into effect immediately.

She asked if I completely understood these rules and if I had any questions, and I said “No Mistress.” “Good,” she responded. “Now, roll over on your stomach, and remove the butt plug and put it on the towel there on the bed stand. Then put the strap-on on me and get on the bed on your stomach and then get your ass in the air. I’m going to start right now to give you some advanced training in cumming from prostate stimulation alone. And we will stop only when you have cum three times, no matter how long it takes.” The cruel gleam in her eyes told me that she was hoping that it would take a long time.!