More from Julia
The basement room couldn't fairly be called a dungeon, I don't suppose, for it was brightly lit and warm. The floor was even carpeted, mainly I think because Master likes me on my knees and doesn't like for my legs to be scratched up. But it had many of the accoutrements of a dungeon, a whipping post, a spanking bench, rings on one wall to which he sometimes tied me, and a wall covered with instruments of torture which he knew how to use with great effectiveness. There were various short posts that he had implanted in the floor of the room which he could use to tie my limbs or the limbs of his other slaves to from time to time and for various reasons. At one end of the room was a mattress which had four such posts around it, one at each corner. Under the mattress Master had installed the piston portion of a hydraulic lift, which when activated pushed the center of the mattress up into the air. It was, I think, the feature of which he was most proud, and he often used it. The whipping post was one of the basement support posts, but Master had installed wrist cuffs just above the level of my head on the post and had also situated two smaller posts on either side of the support to which he often bound my ankles. The spanking bench brought a mixture of emotions to me as I looked at it with remembrance. It was shaped somewhat like a saw- horse used in construction work, but it had a semi-round leather pad across the top of it which was padded just enough to make laying on it relatively comfortable. The four legs of the bench stood away from the center bar at angles and had wrist and ankle cuffs attached to them. The length of the bench was such that when Master attached me to it my head was hanging over one end and my cunt was right at the other end. Just below the place where my cunt would be was attached an old coffee can which Master put there to collect the juice that flowed from my hole when I was bound there. I had drunk deeply and often from that can and felt sure that I would drink from it many more times. The bench was at once the most exciting part of the room to me and at the same time the part I feared most as well. As I looked around the room I noticed that some changes had been made since my last visit. Master saw my eyes open widely as I looked at them and explained their usage. "The four rings you see suspended from the ceiling can be used to hang your slut body in nearly any position I choose, Julia. The protrusion under them is yet another ram, much like the one that is under the mattress which can be used to support your body at strategic places if I so desire, among other things. It will extend nearly five feet into the room and is capable of accepting numerous attachments at its uppermost end. You have read of something quite similar to it in the Linda Chronicles, which as you may remember was used with terrifying effectiveness. Come to me and let me look at you." The trembling my body had been doing as I had entered the room had been nothing compared to what was happening now. I was far from cold, but I had goosebumps all over my body and my legs and arms were shaking, my teeth chattering noticably. I walked over to Master and stood before him as he sat in the soft leather chair and looked at me. He ran his fingers over my upper thighs lightly, feeling the goosebumps which were so prominently evident. "You have beautiful legs, Julia. It's no wonder to me that every man who sees them wants to stick his meat inside you, nor that every bi-woman who gets a glimpse wants her face between them. Your slut tits are also well formed and your nipples grow nicely rigid with the proper stimulation. Turn around and show me your ass." I turned slowly, letting him observe every portion of my nearly naked body. I wobbled slightly as one of the high heels caught in the nap of the thick carpet. "Your ass is nicely rounded and unmarked other than some carpet marks from your having laid on the floor in the living room for your recent fist-fucking. The backs of your thighs are wonderful and the stockings just the right length. Remind me to make you wear this garter belt when you fuck Jim next time, he will like it very much." I felt like such a slut to be standing there with Master commenting on my body in such a way. It was very much as if he were a doctor examining me, except that he tied every comment into a sexual act of some kind. I was beginning to drip again and I knew he would soon be able to smell my pussy. "Go lay on the mattress on your stomach, slut", he demanded. I walked slowly to the mattress, aware of the moisture between my legs and the swaying of my hips as I walked in the heels. I knew that Master was looking at my ass as I walked away from him and that he was probably thinking about what he would do to it. As I thought about that I began to doubt that I would work the next day either. Master connected the wrist and ankle cuffs, spreading my legs opened widely. Moving to the switch on the wall, he activated the hydraulic ram under the mattress and I soon felt it lifting me into the air until the cuffs were pulling at my extremeties. I was still totally supported by the mattress, but by body was bent in the middle, my ass stuck high into the air. I heard the familiar sound of the leather razor strop popping and knew immediately what was going to happen next. Master always bent the thick leather strop over and snapped it tightly, letting the leather slap against itself. He said he enjoyed the sound and that it warmed the leather up when he did that. For me, the sound was terrifying and startling, but it still made my pussy get even wetter every time I heard it. It had never felt cold to me, either, that was for sure. His aim was perfect on the very first swing of the heavy leather, striking me across both ass cheeks with a resounding "SLAP!!". Usually, my Master varied the timing of his swings so that I was never quite sure when I would feel the leather against my ass again, but this time he swung the razor strop contiuously and quickly, popping my naked ass a minimum of thirty times a minute. I can't be sure, but I think I recieved over 150 strappings with the strop before he stopped. The only thing I knew for sure was that he would recieve absolutely no argument from me the remainder of the day, no matter what he chose to do to me. Rather than carrying me to another position as he usually did, Master made me struggle to my feet and walk to the spanking bench. It was all I could do to move, and I know it took me much longer than he would have liked to get to the bench, but I did the best that I could. My ass was on fire, both with pain and with passion, and I could feel that familiar feeling in my cunt that I only get when I'm being disciplined. I've come to need that feeling, I know I have, and in spite of the pain that the whippings and spankings give me I can't help wanting it. As I lowered my body to the cool leather of the spanking bench I heard the first drop of cunt juice land in the coffee can, and I knew it would be quite full before Master was through. The wrists and ankle cuffs were attached as usual. Actually I doubt that Master really had to bind me. In the beginning he had to, as I often struggled to free myself. Now I needed the pain as much as he needed to give it to me, but the bindings did serve to protect me from injury as I squirmed and I think we both also needed them for the arousal value that they had for us. He kept me bound to the spanking bench for over an hour and used a variety of instruments on my ass cheeks and the upper portions of my thighs. First was the paddle, a big wooden affair that warmed me nicely and yet never left a mark. Next he used the thick gun-belt that he seemed to enjoy even more than the razor strop. Then he changed to a thinner and not as heavy leather strap which began to leave whelps on my skin. I could feel the skin on my ass and thighs drawing up tightly as the whelps formed and my skin became even more sensitive and the pain grew constantly. In between the bolts of pain I could hear the dripping of my slut juice into the can beneath my hole. When he tired of using my ass on the spanking bench, Master unbound me and made me kneel in front of him and drink the juice that I had dripped into the coffee can. Nothing made me feel any more submissive than to drink fuck juice that had run from my hole simply because I was being spanked. Its one thing to get hot from thinking about a dick, but something else to get hot because one is being used like a slave. I never drip that much because of cocks. When I had downed the can of cunt juice Master led me over to the new rings he had just recently installed. This especially terrified me, because of my knowledge of what was done to the poor slave Linda in those stories. I began to beg Master not to use me in the rings, but he simply smiled and began talking about the nasty things that I had done that day. He reminded me that if I had been able to control my sluttish urges that he would probably be fucking me with cucumbers rather than whipping my naked skin. Luckily for me, Master only intended to suspend me by my arms and legs with the rings and did not plan to install rings in my nipples and cunt lips as Master Paul had done with Linda. Many times when Master would send me to masturbate I would think about the rings she had in her nipples and cunt and would come strongly, but I had no real desire to actually be faced with that kind of pain. That was one thing better left to the fantasy world! He ran my arms through two of the rings and slid the other two rings over my ankles and up to a point just above my knees. He activated a switch which he removed from its position on the wall and the rings tightened against my arms and legs and began lifting me to a spreadeagled, horizontal position, with me facing the floor. With a solid click the chains from which I hung swung into position and yet another motor began to whir. I felt my legs being spread opened further and the motor continued to run until I felt as if my cunt was going to be pulled nearly apart and then stopped suddenly. Looking underneath my outstretched body I watched as Master set the recently emptied coffee can on the floor beneath me. He held it there long enough for the the first drip to fall and then repositioned it so that it would catch every bit of the fuck that ran from my submissive slut fuck hole. My mouth was wet with fear and arousal and I could feel the cool air blowing against my sweaty body and the presperation dripping from my hard nipples. I turned my head to the right to watch Master take the whip from the wall and cringed as I thought about the sting of the thick leather tip on the whelps that already covered my ass. Instead of using the whip on my already burning ass, Master began working it against my feet, which at least were afforded some protection by the stockings which covered them. In no time, however, the nylon was shredded and the leather began to strike my skin directly. He moved the whip over my legs, tearing the nylon from the my calves and then from my lower thighs as he moved up my body. I was suddenly aware of the extent to which I had displeased my Master, due to this violation of his general rule not to mark the legs that he loved so much. He continued whipping me, marking and whelping my upper thighs on both the top and the bottoms of them. Tears were streaming from my eyes now, but even more copious were the juices that ran from my hole and fell into the can beneath me. I began to climax as the whip lashed against my already marked ass and struggled in the bonds as huge waves of passion swept over my outstretched and swinging body. The whipping continued on through my orgasm and it was only when the passion had subsided that he allowed the whip to move from my ass on up my back and, using underhanded swings, against my stomach. Upward he moved, not hesitating to use the leather whip against my naked breasts and concentrating with evil accuracy on my tender nipples. The attack on my tits brought me to yet another orgasm, even more powerful than the others, and I began to moan continuosly, thanking my Master for using me as only he could. Finally the whipping ended and Master moved to the wall once again. I was dying to have something inside my hole. Never had I been so hot, and I needed fucking more than I had ever needed it in my life! The whippings and the accompanying orgasms, rather than making me feel less sexual were turning me on even more, and I would have fucked anything that had a dick at that very moment. Master hung the long leather whip back on the wall and took the cane down, snapping it against his leg sharply as he walked over to me once again. I heard him chuckle softly and realized that he was amused by the amount of juice I had leaked into the can already. What I could not tell was that the can was over half-way full already, and that Master would not stop until the can was running over.