Sex Slave Whipped In Cellar. Sado-Masochism BDSM.

Hello, you have come to chapter 5 of this story which contains donkey cum. If you'd like to go to chapter 1 please click here Sex Slave For a Day.

I don't know how long I was asleep. I woke with a start and looked up. I closed my eyes and opened them again. The apparition was still there.

Lucy was standing in front of me. She was wearing black thigh length PVC boots, a black PVC basque which supported but did not cover her breasts, black gloves which ended above her elbows, black studded collar around her neck, a little black mask across her eyes and a pair of PVC knickers which consisted of a waistband and a narrow strip of material not even wide enough to cover her pubic hair. She had gathered the crotch so that it ran like a string between her inner cunt lips, broadening slightly to cover her clit, so tight that her clit bulged through the material. Lucy was standing with her fists clenched on her waist. In her right hand she held a large coiled whip. In her left hand was a leather collar and lead.

My mouth must have dropped open in surprise. I just stared at her.

"Lucy," I said. "I'm not sure I'm up to this. I'm shagged out."

"Quiet!" she shouted.

I shut up.

"Now we'll see how slaves should really be treated. Stand up, turn around."

Reluctantly I stood up and turned my back to her. She fixed the collar around my neck.

"Now come with me."

"Alright," I said shaking my head. "But I really don't feel like it." I thought I should go along with her for a while to show willing, then I'd be off. How ironic that when she finally dressed close to my fantasy all I wanted to do was go home and have a cup of cocoa.

She led me down to the cellar. Hanging from the two rings in the middle of the ceiling there were now two manacles. And attached to fixing points in the floor were two more.

"Oh no, come on Lucy. I'm worn out. Some other time? Please?"

"Come on," she said, stepping out of her dominatrix role. "Just for a bit?"

How could I refuse? "OK then," I said, but without enthusiasm.

She fixed the manacles around my wrists, my hands hanging just above my head.. The ankle chains were about a foot long, but not quite long enough for me to be able to put my feet together. I was thus restrained right in the middle of the room.

Lucy stood back and looked at me. She walked around me. The mirrored wall was to my right. I watched her in that.

"Hmm, now that's what a slave should look like." She stood in front of me again and tried to crack the whip, but it hit the ceiling.

"Hey, careful with that thing," I said.

"Quiet slave," she said. She circled around me once more. She swung the whip so that it coiled around my waist, its end coming to rest just above my pubes.

"Hey, hey, hey, watch it with that!"

She didn't say anything.

She had brought her box of things down here into the cellar. She dropped the whip into the box, picked up her cat o'twenty tails and stood beside me. Then she brought the cat down hard across my bottom.

It may only have been made of light strips of leather, but it hurt.

"Ouch. Come on Lucy, that's enough, let me out now."

She stood in front of me and shook her head.

"You haven't got it yet, have you?" she said.

"Got what?"

"We're not playing now."

"Hmm?"

She started to walk out of the cellar.

"Hey, where are you going?" I said.

She didn't answer, she just flounced up the stairs and was gone.

While she was out I tried to slip out of the shackles but they were much too tight for that.

Lucy reappeared carrying a glass and a newly opened bottle of wine. She poured herself some and stood in front of me drinking it, her feet wide apart.

She put the glass down on the floor and picked up the cane. I strained at my bonds.

She went behind me and poked the cane through my legs, prodding my balls, flicking my cock as Gloria had done.

"You liked my lezzie friend Gloria, didn't you?" she said. "Gloria turned you on when she did this, didn't she?" Lucy struck me across the bottom with the cane.

"Ouch, that hurt! I really haven't got the energy for this."

Then thwack gain, not across my bottom this time but across my back, just below the shoulder blades.

"Yeow! Bloody hell, Lucy, that wasn't funny."

"If you complain, I do it harder."

"Come on, I..." but I saw her raise the cane threateningly, so I didn't finish the sentence. I realised there wasn't much I could do other than play along with her

She tapped the cane across my chest, hitting my nipples. When I didn't wince she did it again, harder.

She dropped the cane, picked up her glass of wine and drank. With her other hand she pulled upwards on the waistband of her knickers, pulling the crotch up into her crack, pulling the material more tightly against her clit.

"I'm gong to drink this bottle of wine," he started slowly," then you're going to lie on that mat and I'm going to stand over you and I'm going to piss all over you. Slave."

"No you're not," I said. "Now please, undo me, now. I've had enough. Really."

Suddenly she darted forward and slapped me.

"Shut up!" she yelled into my face.

I was shocked. For a moment I just stared wide eyed at her.

"Lucy," I started hesitantly, "please..."

I was going to ask her what the hell had come over her but she was in no mood to listen nor to stop. She picked up the cane and whack, whack, whack hit me on the side of my thighs.

Maybe it was because she hit me so hard, maybe I was just very tired, perhaps it was the surprise of her lashing out like that, but whatever the reason I momentarily lost control of my bladder. A small jet of pee splashed down onto the floor.

"You disgusting little shit," she snarled. She drained her wine glass then held it under my cock. "Fill it, fill it!" she shouted at me, her face only inches from mine.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't going to, but in the state she was in I didn't risk it. I peed a little into her glass, but once in flow I couldn't stop and it overflowed onto her hand.

"You dirty, dirty little shit," she said. She took a step back then threw the glass of piss over me. Immediately, she filled her glass with wine and drank.

What had come over her? This was simply not the Lucy I knew. I began to feel a little afraid. I was unsure of her, of what she might do. And I was helpless, unable to escape or resist.

Lucy picked up a string of wooden beads. She went behind me and tapped the insides of my thighs with the cane so that I parted my legs wider. She started to push the string of beads up my arse.

"That hurts," I said.

Then, swish! She cracked the cane across my bottom again.

"Every time you utter a sound," he was speaking slowly and deliberately, almost whispering into my ear, "every time you yelp or complain, every time you piss me off you'll get this..." And by way of demonstration she stood back and thwacked me again. Then she whispered: "So fucking, shitting, cunting, buggering bloody well keep quiet."

And with that she shoved a finger up my arse pushing the string of beads painfully far into me.

She paused for a glug of wine and a clit rubbing pull on her PVC knickers.

Hanging down my back from my collar was the long leather lead. It reached my knees. Lucy pulled its end forwards through my legs and pulled upwards so that it went into the cleft of my arse. She pulled it up tight beside my balls then wrapped it round the base of my cock and my balls and tied it so that it squeezed them away from my body.

She picked up the cat o'twenty. She hit the side of my body with it. She walked around me striking every part of me now, my legs, back, my front. Even my balls and my cock were not spared. I was in pain but trying not to show it or complain lest this anger her further.

Even though I wasn't shouting and complaining she must have known she was hurting me. But she did not care.

Lucy got onto the exercise bicycle and began to pedal. She was directly in front of me, facing me, smiling at me. She was sticking her bottom out behind her and I could see that she was pressing and moving her clitty against the saddle as she peddled up and down.

She caressed her nipples. She seemed suffused with pleasure, her face was aglow. I hung there limply in front of her.

She dismounted and crossed to me. She reached out and pinched both of my nipples so hard that I cried out in pain.

Her hand went for my imprisoned balls. I used all my freedom of movement to get out of the way. But she simply put a hand to my chest and pushed me hard back so that my wrists and ankles strained at their shackles. Then she cupped my balls. I closed my eyes for the pain that was to come. But it did not. Instead she fondled my balls, then held my cock and kneaded it, trying to induce an erection. But it would not rise.

She moved behind me. With one hand she fondled my buttocks, reaching round with the other to fondle my cock. Then she pulled the string of beads slowly out of my arsehole, bead by bead popping out past the leather strap that ran from my balls via my arse crack up my back and to my collar.

And despite all the pain and the bruises I felt my cock begin to stir. But abruptly she stopped, picked up her glass and bottle of wine and walked out.

Again I tried to wriggle out of my bonds, but to no avail.

When Lucy came back she had a vibrator sticking out of the top of her knickers, its business end in position over her clit. I could hear the vibrator buzzing. Her bottle of wine was two thirds empty.

"I can feel my bladder, full, full, full with this wine. And it's all going to be yours. I'm going to piss it all over you, on your cock, on your face, into your mouth, you're going to drink it, you're going to drink my piss."

She took another drink from her glass. She adjusted her vibrator so that it touched her just right. She told me to stand still. She had something small in her hand, I couldn't make it out. But I soon found out what they were. She put the clamps onto my nipples and screwed them so tight that I yelped in pain, but her response was to whip her hand across my cock, smacking it.

Now she grasped my balls and squeezed them hard until I squealed.

"Lucy, please!" There was desperation in my voice. I wanted to tell her to stop, but feared that would only make it worse.

As it was she picked up the cane, went behind me and started to hit upwards between my legs, some blows getting through and hitting my balls and my cock. Then she thwacked me across the back of my legs.

Now I did cry out in pain and I implored her to stop. But she did not stop. She hit me with the cane on my back, my buttocks, across my chest, one blow after another while I shouted at her to stop. Tears were streaming down my face. I was yelling at her to stop.

She did. She stood in front of me. She discarded the vibrator and put her hand down her knickers, playing with herself, masturbating in front of me, staring straight at me, revelling in my pain, excited by my distress.

"I'm at eight," she said. "I'm running like a river. I'm going to stay at eight. I could do anything to you, anything, anything that would excite me. You fucking slave! And I'll be at eight when I piss on you. That will turn me on. Piss on you and wank myself, wank till I come, come while I piss on you, piss and come-juice pissing into your mouth."

I could see her crotch glistening with excitement, see that the insides of her thighs were wet where it had leaked out of her.

She picked up a tube of lubricant and spread it liberally on the saddle of the exercise bike. She mounted it, pedalling slowly, moving herself back and forth over the saddle, masturbating herself against it.

She was flushed with excitement and looked as though she could come at any moment. And in spite of all the pain I was getting an erection again.

Suddenly she jumped off the bike and slapped me hard across the face. She stood back and laughed as I cried out. She poured some wine into her glass and drank it, all the time pulling up at her knickers to keep herself up there at eight.

"I wonder how John and Anne are getting on?" she said.

I looked up: "John and Anne?"

"Yes, John and Anne. My husband and your wife. Shagging each other stupid I shouldn't wonder."

Wearily I said: "What? Don't be silly, Anne's gone to a conference."

"Don't say you didn't realise," Lucy said.

"Realise what?"

"Where do you think John is?" she said patiently.

"I've no idea, where is he?"

"God, you can be thick sometimes. He's with Anne, at her conference, shagging her."

I was shattered. "But..." I had no right to be aggrieved, after all fair's fair, but why hadn't Anne told me?

"But she would have told me," I said.

"And you would have said 'yes', is that it?"

"Well, yes, I would. Under the circumstances."

"You've got it all the wrong way round," she said. "John asked me to agree to today so he could go off and shag Anne. You don't think I wanted to spend a whole bloody day with a pathetic wimp like you, do you?"

"WHAT!" Suddenly I was enraged. Pent up anger and pain welled up inside me. "Let me out of these fucking chains! Now! This instant! You fucking bitch!" I was screaming at her and struggling so hard against my shackles that I drew blood. "Let me out! Let me OUT! I'll fucking kill her! How could she lie to me like that!"

In the middle of all this ranting Lucy picked up the cane and came at me with it. She struck me indiscriminately. She seemed to have completely lost control. I screamed at her in rage and pain. Had I been free I would not have been responsible for my actions. I could feel muscles in my chest knotting with rage - muscles I didn't even know I had.

Then she stopped. She drank the last mouthful of wine. She swilled it around her mouth then spat it into my face.

"You little shit," she said coldly.

I thought I was going to pull those hooks out of the ceiling. I had never felt such uncontrollable rage and fury. I tried wildly to kick her, to grab her.

She stood, only just out of reach and smirked, her hand down her knickers playing with herself like some sadistic torturer getting turned on by her victim's suffering. She was aroused by my anger, my rage, my hate, my pain.

When I had calmed down, or at last when I had stopped shouting, she said calmly: "Now I'm going to untie you and you're going to drink my piss."

"You are not fucking pissing on me again. Is that clear! You're bloody warped, warped! WARPED!!! Now let me out of here." I struggled vainly again.

She just shrugged. "When you agree," she said.

I realised there was only one was she was going to let me out.

"Oh, for God's sake, alright then."

"You agree?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Just undo these things, please."

She picked up the key, and her cat o'twenty. She unlocked the left ankle, right ankle, left hand, right hand. I stood rubbing my wrists, trying to stay calm and not wreak vengeance on her.

"And that's for all the shouting," she said, swinging the cat o'twenty right at my face.

I couldn't believe what she was doing! But I caught her wrist just in time and held it. She swung her other hand at my face. I caught her other wrist. For an instant we stood like that, staring at each other, my eyes burning with rage.

Then my blood boiled over. For the first time in my life I understood what seeing red meant. I was so angry, so out of control that a red mist seemed to appear in front of my eyes. Blood pressure or adrenaline, I don't know.

I slapped her across the face, much harder than perhaps I realised, but I hated her so much in that instant that I was capable of almost anything.

She reeled backwards, partly the blow, partly the wine. It was only when she started to fall and I hit her again that I realised I was going to rape her.

She was on her back on the mat, kicking and fighting me. All I wanted to do was to hurt her.

"Get off me, you bastard, get off!"

This just made me madder.

I wrestled her arms above her head and pinned them to the floor with my left hand. My right hand reached between her legs and gripped the thong of her knickers. I yanked it hard to snap it, but it was stronger than it looked. Lucy really yelled out as the knickers pulled right into her arse crack and cunt. I pulled the material even harder. She screamed. I pulled again. They broke. Then I plunged my cock into her. My cock felt like a log of wood. Huge, no feeling, I could fuck her so hard and for so long I would make her raw and beg for mercy. I rammed it into her as hard as I could, to hurt her, just to hurt her. I was like a steam engine running wild. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

I let go of her arms and squeezed her nipples, hard. She let out an ear splitting screech.

She started to hit me with her fists, then claw at my back. I slapped her across the face back and forth until she stopped.

I pulled her left knee up to my waist so I could pound deeper into her. I lashed out at the side of her bottom, smacking the side of her bottom and her thigh.

Then suddenly she tensed and bucked uncontrollably beneath me. I couldn't believe it! The little slut was coming. Well, she wasn't going to enjoy it. I pulled her nipples so hard that it lifted her shoulders off the floor and she uttered such a scream right in the middle of her orgasm that she began to cough, her system not sure whether to breathe, shout or come.

I didn't care. I didn't care. I pumped into her harder and faster. The leather lead had slipped off my balls but was still around the base of my cock. Every time I thrust into her I could feel the leather pushing into her pubes. I hoped it would be pushing against her clitoris, biting into it with every thrust, hurting her with every thrust. I banged into her savagely, I was just going to keep going until she hurt so much that she would plead with me to stop. I'd show her I was no wimp. But a minute or less later I felt her tensing again. How could I inflict pain on her to blot out her pleasure? I reached under her head and pulled hard on her hair, pulling it down towards the nape of her neck, pulling her head back. Her face contorted in pain. But I wanted to hurt her more than that, she would get no pleasure from this orgasm. I banged her head up and down on the mat until her orgasm had finished.

But I kept on fucking her, fucking her mercilessly. She was getting weaker now, fighting me less now. Her arms were still crossed above her head but I was not holding them there. I pulled both her knees up and made her cross her ankles behind my back. I could feel the heels of her boots digging into my arse, but I felt no pain as I hammered into her.

Lucy's body was relaxed now, her eyes closed. My pounding did not seem to be hurting her. But I wanted to hurt her. I reached out and grabbed the cane. She didn't realise I had. I hit the side of her buttocks with it, as a jockey might.

Her eyes opened in shock and pain and she let out a terrifying scream. This only spurred me to more determined fucking. I hit her again and again with the cane, relishing in her cries at every blow. But still she did not fight me. She yelped at each blow, her body twitching, but her arms remained strangely limp on the floor above her head. I had won. I had subdued her. I discarded the cane. I reached underneath her bottom. I shoved one, then two, and then three fingers up her arsehole, her breath catching sharply as the third finger was forced into her. With my fingers I could feel my cock pistoning in and out of her cunt.

But even as I was causing her this pain I felt her begin to tremble beneath me. Not a tensing, not a bucking, but a beaten body beginning to shudder from somewhere deep down.

Her eyes rolled up into her head. She was having an orgasm and no pain seemed able to prevent her ecstasy. Then I felt the flood. She had relaxed everything, let everything go. She had given herself completely to pain and pleasure, relaxing every muscles so that she was coming and pissing, pissing and coming, pissing freely, that bottle of wine squirting out of her, spraying in all directions between our bodies. And suddenly I was coming too. I had thought I wouldn't come at all, but from nowhere here it was, an intense, shattering orgasm. I rammed into her one final time, pushing into her as far and as hard as I could. Even as I came I pulled my fingers out of her arsehole and forced them into her mouth. She sucked on my fingers lasciviously, so I took them out of her mouth and instead slapped her across the face, even now determined her orgasm would be blotted out by pain. But she was still coming, and pissing. I squeezed her nipples, desperate to hurt her, but she did not flinch. Everything now seemed only to add to her pleasure, to heighten her orgasm. Then suddenly it was all over. I collapsed down on top of her, my dead weight crushing her limp, beaten body.

Instantly I felt terrible remorse. What had I done?

"Lucy, I'm sorry, I..."

But she put her fingers to my lips to still me. She rolled over and lay on top of me.

"Now that's what I call a good hard fuck," she said.

"Did I hurt you?" I said.

"Of course you did."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"A second hand bottle of wine?" Lucy said.

I found myself laughing. "But I was so wound up, I wanted to bloody kill you. You were taking a hell of a risk?"

She laughed now: "I know you better than that. You couldn't hurt a fly."

I shrugged and fell silent for a moment. "Mind you," I said. "I'm bloody annoyed that Anne didn't tell me about her and John."

"Oh, don't be silly," Lucy said. "They're not really together."

It took a moment to dawn. "You mean you said all that just to get me going?"

"Worked, didn't it?" Mind you, I expect Anne will want a return match with John."

"Fair enough, if it's all agreed. And all that stuff about me being a wimp...?"

She shook her head as if to say 'silly boy'. "This whole thing was my idea, you know, not John's. But I didn't think I was ever going to get you really angry, so I had to think of something, didn't I?"

I shook my head in wonder.

Then Lucy knelt up and moved her crotch towards my face.

"Here," he said. "See what it tastes like now."

"Aren't you ever satisfied?" I asked.

She laughed and rubbed her juicy, spunky, piss soaked cunt all over my face, then she twisted around so she could 69 my cock, giving it a friendly wash with her tongue, licking all around it at the mix of sweat, spunk, cunt juice and her own piss.

"God, you're disgusting," I said.

"Thank you. You're quite nice yourself," she said.

And that's all there was to it really. When I recounted the day's events to Anne I glossed over some of the details - I wouldn't want her to think her best friend was too kinky. Anne demanded a good fucking when she'd heard the tale. I don't know if Lucy divulged all to John. Maybe she did. Maybe that was what they normally got up to? Or was I the opportunity for years of pent up fantasies to find their expression? Anne and John have arranged their return match for the weekend after next. At least Anne isn't quite as extreme as Lucy. At least I don't think she is.