by Peter Loaf
I guess I should tell you right off. I'm a perverted dyke BDSM Top.
I get my sexual kicks from Bondage. For me, the thrill is watching
my bottoms experiencing the things I do with/for/to them.
Its only when I have my submissive deep in her slave state that I feel the magic of Mastery.
Slave state isn't a place on any map, rather it is a condition of the mind, or rather the hind brain, a kind of sexual fever, a place of rich pleasures and deep, satisfying passions, a place of trust, a place of great pain and of greater rewards.
My subbie trusts me, still she shivers in the cool basement air. Dressed in a locked on gag, a dog collar and goose-bumps, her hands voice shackled together behind her back, she lets me lead her down to the basement garage where my surprise awaits in the back of our mini-van.
At first she doesn't see it, due to the highly tinted windows on the van. But when I open the lift gate she squeals and tries to pull away in panic. I pull her back with the chain leash and give her bare bottom a warning slap. Sitting there in the back of the van, looking both strong and tight, is a large steel dog cage. I open the door and jerk my head to tell her to get in, saying, "Use your hands if you need them."
I know that one of her turn-ons is fear of public exposure, therefore I have decided to take her for a drive.
Brain fucking is what we call it. Its the way I go about topping her. I watch, my pussy stirring between my thighs, as she crawls into the steel mesh discomfort of the cage. It is a tight fit, as I intended. I pass a padlock through the latch and close the tail-gate, leaving her to stew. Checking that I have everything I'm going to need, I press the button and up goes the garage door, revealing the snoopy neighbor, hanging around pretending to be shoveling snow.
I smile and wave, as I drive past him.
In the back I hear the gag muffled squeak of my subbie trying to get as low as she can, trying to stay out of sight. This is going to be fun.
Disney World, here we come.
As long as we keep moving my subbie is mostly invisible. At the first
stoplight however, she discovers the weakness of using tinted windows as
clothing. Given the right angle and time to focus, the human eye can
see through it. We sit there, trapped between a semi in front and an
old school bus full of Mexican day laborers behind.
My subbie can do nothing, save sit there and listen to the cat calls, the laughter. the crude suggestions. From the smell that suddenly fills the van I know this is having the desired effect upon my prisoner.
Finally we lose the Mexicans only to pick up an eagle eyed trucker who seems to be trying to touch bumpers with me. I tune my CB radio to channel nineteen and listen to the guy describing my subbie as she rides along the freeway, gagged, naked, horny and helpless.
"She's got long brown hair, a nice body, very expressive eyes over high cheek bones, a wide bottom, Texas tits and the biggest red ball gag strapped in her mouth you ever did see." he drawled in professional truck driver. "Looks to be in her early twenties and all ready to rock and roll."
There came the squall of a dozen men trying to break in at once.
"Now I ain't agonna tell you where I am, cuse y'all would come acrowding. But I will describe what I'm watching. I see you have a CB radio in that car, mam, can you hear me?"
I pick up the mike and key it, saying, "Roger that Big Boy. What can I do for you?"
"Honey, you are doing plenty for me a'ready." came back. "Who's your friend?"
"Just my subbie." I say, meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror. "She said she wanted to go to Disney World in the worst way."
"Roger that." he said, chuckling. "Remind me to be more careful how I say things around you."
I hold the microphone over close to my subbie's face and say, "Say Hello to the nice gentleman, subbie."
My Subbie screams in gagged frustration, already so horny she isn't thinking straight.
"Glad to meet'cha." The trucker says, "My name's Bill."
"I don't know if subbie knows it or not, but she's sweating pheromones like a sow and filling this van with pure fuck me musk." I say, passing through a speed trap at a legal speed for me but one too high for the truck.
Behind me I hear the squeak of my subbie shifting positions and look back to see her spreading her legs wide and beginning to masturbate as the trucker tailgates us down the highway.
Behind the truck the blue lights come on and so we bid adieu to Bill the trucker, our first victim of many.
* * *
About four hours down the road, both my bladder and my libido tell me I
need to stop. My naked subbie in the back has filled the car with the
scent of her musk, giving me the worst case of lust I've had since high school.
I pull off the highway, drive for a few minutes until I see a motel, then pull in, whistling a happy little ditty about rolling over in the clover. Parking the van next to the office, I get out and walk inside, leaving the subbie out there all by herself. Brain Fucking.
As soon as I've signed in and gotten a key, I return to the parking lot. Where I find a knot of kids gathered around the back of my van. They are using their hands to shield their eyes, looking in the deeply tinted windows at my helpless naked subbie as if my van were a candy store.
At the sight of me they scatter, leaving the van rocking and humming all on its own.
Chuckling, I get in and drive around back, my lust growing hotter by the second.
Getting out and walking around to the lift gate, I spot the same gang of boys trying to hide behind a pile of garbage cans over by the corner of the building, I lift the hatch, unlock the cage and pull my subbie out to stand shivering, naked and barefoot in the snow. She is covered in fuck sweat, her nipples as tight as any I have ever seen, her labia swollen red and super-sensitive from 200 miles of non-stop masturbation. I wrap a cloak around her and lead her into our room. In my other hand is my carpet bag full of toys.
At this rate we might never make it to Florida. Oh well.
* * *
Its about noon the second day when the blue lights begin to flash in my
rear view mirror. I pull over, roll down my window, then grip the top
of the steering wheel so that they can clearly see my hands.
In my rear view mirror I watch my subbie trying to cover up in her own hair, in my side mirror I see that the cop walking up on my side of the car has his gun drawn, his eyes covered by reflective, Cool Hand Luke sun glasses. I suppress a grin. From the back I hear my subbie trying to squeeze through the one inch mesh of her cage. She is panting with fear induced passion, blushed, perked, and spouting pheromones like a whale.
"Could you step out of the car and open the back?" The cop says, pointing his gun at the back of my ear.
"Yes Sir!" I say, winking at him in the mirror.
I walk around and open the lift-gate, exposing my subbie to the full light of day.
"We had a report from an outraged Jesus freak truck driver that there was a naked dame in a dog cage and we came right out. Can you tell me why she's fixed up like that?"
"Its just a sex game Officer." I say, watching my subbie trying again to cover her nakedness with her long brown hair.
How about it sweetheart, are you ok in there?"
Subbie, so deep in her zone she couldn't speak even without the gag, nods.
"Where are the keys to this lock and the one on her gag?" the cop asks, holding the padlock that secures the cage door.
I hand the key ring to him, watching my naked subbie cringing inside the cage.
When he takes the keys and instead of opening the cage simply drops them into his pocket my subbie squeaks in a new, higher octave of terror, her musky pheromone smelling suddenly strong and fresh again.
"Please turn around and put your hands on the hood of the crusier." Cop number two says, taking the cuffs out of the holster on his belt. I comply, listening to my subbie trying to warn me that there is something wrong, that these aren't real cops.
Hell I know that! But to preserve the image of our little passion play I pretend to misunderstand. "Don't sweat it subbie, we haven't broken any laws."
I feel the steel clamping around my wrists and know the other thrill, the one that I so seldom get the chance to feel. The subbie thrill of being the helpless captive.
Perhaps I should have mentioned before that I am also, on occasion, switch as Hell, and, like my subbie, bisexual to boot.
Actually, these guys are real live cops. But they are off duty at the moment. They are town clowns from southern Ohio I met on the internet. We cooked up this plot to give my subbie her biggest thrill yet. I think its working beautifully. I earn an Oscar as the second cop takes me and locks me in the back of the police car. Then I sit and watch the show as cop one closes the van's lift-gate and gets into the van's driver's seat. Even though my subbie is tightly gagged and all the windows are up on both vehicles, I can clearly hear her screaming as we are driven away, a slave caravan of two.
* * *
In the twenty minutes it takes to drive to the farm, I sit and imagine my subbie's terror. There she sits, naked and helpless in that steel cage, the thick leather gag strap padlocked behind her neck, being taken off the highway by a strange armed man who has already revealed his evil intent.
Knowing my subbie as I do, I am jealous, for I know she must be hot as hell and if not coming, close to it. And with that thought I realize how hot I am getting, sitting here with my hands locked together behind my back.
"Its not fair, you fixing my hands behind me." I complain to my driver, knowing full well that speaking without permission will surely get me punished. "I can't play with myself this way."
"Six of the best." He answers, watching my eyes in the mirror.
It is like a slap to my face, the finality of it, the sudden cold knowledge that what this man says will happen, will happen, whatever I try to do. Between my thighs my pussy begins throbbing.
When we get to the farm the mini van pulls into the barn while the cruiser parks outside. Cop number two leaves me in the cruiser and walks inside, sliding the big doors closed behind him. I am glad to see he has a very substantial boner tenting his trousers. I sit and wait, having so few options. Try as I might, I simply cannot reach the itch I feel between my legs. "Patience bitch, they'll get to you soon enough." I whisper to myself, twisting my arms around so that I can at least squeeze my aching breast.
After a few minutes the doors open and cop one backs the van out as cop two gets back into the cruiser's driver's seat. Driving into the gloom I look around, trying to see what has happened to my subbie. I spot her over by one of the horse stalls, still locked inside her cage.
I am pulled out of the car and gagged with one of my subbie's spares. As the ball goes in behind my teeth I feel the second rush of near orgasm and know myself a slave slut so horny she might begin screaming at any moment.
They remove the handcuffs and order me to strip. I comply, hoping that they will be seduced by my slim good looks into scratching my itch.
Next, I am forced to bend over a large saw-horse and secured with spread eagle cuffs strapped around my wrists and ankles and attached to the horse's legs with four double-ended snaphooks.
I feel cop one's fingers toying with my open and dripping vulva, making me jerk and rattle my four way restraints. I moan and bubble my response, my gag drool dripping to puddle beneath me, my pussy juice running down the insides of my thighs. I am unable to escape, unable to deny him anything.
I guess the time for brain fucking is kinda over. At least for me. My subbie sits over there and watches, her hands caressing her flushed body.
* * *
"Only six?" cop one asks, his now limp organ slipping out of my pussy, "Is that all she earned?"
Deep in my slave state I don't exactly understand, but my pussy gushes anew at the thought of being caned so soon after being sexually serviced.
"She's a smart one." says cop two, smearing the last drops of his cum onto my face. "She shut right up."
"Well it don't matter, I'm a'givin her the full two dozen, whether she earned them or not."
Inside my spinning head a part of me thrills at this news. Another part panics and tries again to pull my hands and feet out of the cuffs that hold them. As before, I get nowhere.
The cane is thin and cruel, he swishes it past my ear, letting me feel the fear before forcing me to feel the pain. My upended pussy bubbles and gushes, swells and turns a deeper shade of crimson.
The cane touches my ass, marking its target. It caresses me, concentrating my sense of touch, preparing me for the coming agony.
I lift my head and see my subbie masturbating in her cage, her fingers a blur on her clitoris.
The cane lifts and swishes, passing above my ass so close that I feel the wind.
I do my level best to ride that saw-horse out of harms way but get no further this time than before.
The cane caresses my swollen pussy lips, making me know their vulnerability, their exposure.
The cane lifts.
I hold my breath.
The cane whistles, then hits, leaving a slice of pure pain across my upended fanny.
I choke and writhe, my entire existence concentrated in the ten inch stripe of injured flesh across my bent ass.
The cane comes again, this time leaving its mark across the back of my thighs so close to my pussy that I feel the cool swish of air against my hot, swollen wetness. I scream in pain and passion, a helpless submissive, well fucked, well bound and deep within her slave state.
The first dozen impacts are for me, for my libido, the second are for them. When it is over I am in a kind of shock, a kind of floating nirvana, a kind of heat. Renewed by the show, my Master's cocks have recovered completely. It being cop two's turn he steps up behind me and slides it deep into my vulva.
I rejoice and grip on him, finding the bull's eye of pleasure in the center of my agony.
He fucks me slowly, his fingers tracing the raw welts on my rump. I gasp and wiggle, wanting him to fuck me faster, harder.
He spanks my welt covered rump, and begins to move with more force, riding me like a favorite horse.
The awful pain in my ass seems to morph into something else, something wonderful, something powerful, something addictive.
The passion comes and so do I, again and again and yet again.
* * *
After I am simply fucked out they go and get subbie out of her cage. I smile to myself as I limply hang over the sawhorse, knowing how much better the sex is going to be for her now that she's had a chance to stew a while.
* * *
In the morning we are on the road again, heading South and back on our mission to bring a little cheer to the truckers on I-75.
Only this time it I who gets to ride in the back of the van. My subbie sits up there behind the wheel, dressed in my clothes, playing the role of Mistress for all she's worth. Fair enough, what goes around comes around, as we switches always say.
My guess is that's what makes us the best fucks.
When my subbie found out that I'd set her up with those two cops she begged those bastards for the chance to get her revenge. They were only too happy to oblige, putting me into her cage and then fixing me up a bit with five strong steel bars, a penis gag and a big, black, vibrating, electric, dildo, equipped with both a clit stub and a g spot bulge. When they were done I was fixed in place, my helpless body unable to move in any way without fucking myself on either the dildo behind me or the penis gag in my throat.
Shackled down to the four corners of the cage, my hands and feet will move only inches before they are snubbed. There is a bar across my upper chest that supports some of my weight and another across my tummy that takes some of the weight off of my knees.
The dildo, attached to the end of the fifth bar, is cycling through its pre-set pattern, a pattern-less pattern of high and low power surges, of nerve zapping clitoral massage and sometimes low voltage, low frequency electroshock to my g spot.
Riding in the back of the van, only my subbie's CB chatter to keep me informed about who might be watching me fuck my way to Florida, I plot out my subbie's next brain fuck.