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Tales of Love & Cruelty, Slut Boy Stories of Female Domination by Lance Edwards Ebook Ordering Image Copyright (c) Ludovic Goubet www.ludovicgoubet.com

Copyrighted © 2008 by Lance Edwards, all rights reserved.  

My live-in girlfriend absolutely loves to play with my penis. Well, she considers it play anyway. It’s more accurately described as torture.

I suppose she has reason to be obsessed with it. Fully erect my cock is over nine inches long – very big by anyone’s standards. Brianna is very big too: six feet tall, thick and solid everywhere without being fat except in one crucial place. She has breasts like casaba melons. It’s partly for this reason that I let her do whatever she wants to me – how could I stop her? She outweighs and out-muscles me considerably. Still, in addition to those monstrous breasts she is simply so beautiful, and we have such a perfectly loving relationship otherwise, that I’m willing to indulge her sadistic streak in order to keep her. Outside of the bedroom she’s everything any man could ever ask for. Inside it, well, you know what I think. I’ll let you be the judge of whether it’s worth it all or not.

Right now my beloved Brianna has me hanging by my arms from the ceiling. A long steel bar spreads my shackled wrists out wide, and she’s cranked the chain connected to it up so high that my feet are nearly a meter off the floor. A matching bar shackles my ankles likewise widely spread, and the heavy weights attached to it keep me stretched painfully out. Completely naked, already erect, I wait in tremulous anticipation while Brianna gathers up the various implements she delights in using on me.

At last she returns, arranging her toys on a handy table next to me. She’s dressed the part of a closet dominatrix, with spike-heeled boots and a skimpy body harness of black leather straps. Fingerless biker’s gloves adorn her hands, and a silver-spiked collar encircles her neck. Her thick blonde hair is pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkle with excitement as she finally confronts me.

“Well, lover, I think we’re ready to play. Are you up for this?”

“Anything for you, Mistress!” I gasp.

Brianna likes me to call her this whenever we ‘play’ and I’m happy to oblige. Though we are equal and reciprocal in every other aspect of our relationship, when it comes to sex she is my undisputed suzerain.

“Good,” she grins. “I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight! First we must shave you nice and close…”

My crotch is at the level of her breasts: the perfect height for her sinister attentions. She also has a small stepladder for when she wants to work on my nipples or access my face. Carefully she strops a straight razor until it’s unbelievably sharp. Then without the benefit of even water for a lubricant she starts scraping the stubble from my groin and balls.

This hurts of course, but compared to what’s coming, it’s merely interesting foreplay. Once I’m totally smooth and bare down there, she douses my badly abraded flesh with rubbing alcohol. This makes me scream at last, and Mistress laughs, both at me and at herself.

“Tut-tut, we can’t have that! What will the neighbors think? And what was I thinking? You need to be hushed, young man!”

She sorts through her paraphernalia and comes up with a wide leather gag.

On the inside of this is a short, thick plastic penis, which I’ve learned can come quite in handy. Having something, anything to bite down upon can be a godsend at these times. Mistress steps up the ladder, pushes this into my mouth and buckles it up tight behind my head.

“There,” she smiles. “And, while I’m up here…”

She has a pair of strong spring clamps and some heavy lead weights with her. Giggling at my whimpers, she attaches a clamp to each of my nipples and then hangs the weights from them: painfully crushing my little tit-buds and dragging them agonizingly out. Then she returns to the floor, and the table, and sets to further preparing me for the evening’s fun.

First she picks up a dreadfully thick vibrator. Considerately she coats this with lubricant. Then she lifts up my still burning balls and forces it up inside me, stretching and stuffing my rectum until I’m screaming again – not that it matters now of course. Then she snaps a thin tight harness about the base of my scrotum and hangs more lead weights from this, crushing my nuts and dragging them agonizingly down. At last she rolls an excruciatingly tight rubber penis ring down my pulsing, up-cocked shaft right to the base. Not only does this insure my perpetual hardness, it prevents any accidental issue. Finally I’m ready then, and Mistress can really begin playing with me.

As always she starts off small, building the anticipation for both of us.

First she just slaps me around.

Hitting my erection with her palm, she sets it to swinging and waggling wildly, letting me jut back to upright center before smacking it again. This is arousing as hell for me and mildly entertaining at least for Brianna. She keeps it up for maybe five minutes. Then she grasps my hardness and forces it down. Bending it back against its natural proclivity, she holds me pointing directly at the floor. Again this is as arousing as it is painful, which is surely why she doesn’t keep it so for more than a minute or two. Reacting to my moans of pleasure, she soon takes my lengthy shaft in both hands. Squeezing me hard, she suddenly viciously twists in opposite directions.

Youthful bullies call this an ‘Indian burn’ when they apply it to the forearm, and if it didn’t hurt they wouldn’t do it. Applied to the erect penis it is absolutely agonizing. Chuckling at my choked screaming and shuddering, Mistress does it again and again, all up and down my pulsing length until I’m already red and inflamed. Then it’s finally time for her toys.

Breathing heavily with excitement, Mistress flicks a lighter and sets a slender taper candle burning. She lifts it up, and holding it a bare centimeter above my flesh, begins drizzling scalding molten wax onto my erection. In s-m videos they do this from high above, allowing the wax to cool on its way down. Mistress isn’t interested in this silliness. She wants that wax as hot as possible. And as it begins to drip onto the questing head of my cock, it most certainly is.

The agony is exquisite. Stretched out spread-eagled I have little latitude for movement. Still I writhe and cry, as first and even second degree burns are inflicted on the sensitive tip of my dick. Then Mistress begins trailing the agony upward, scalding my inflamed shaft to the root and back. Methodically she coats the entire top of my cock in what feels like lava, until I’m so thickly encrusted that I can no longer suffer further. Then she douses the candle and picks up a riding crop.

I know from experience that this will be the earlier slapping magnified a thousand times. And so it is. This time it’s a serious whipping my cock has coming. And that thick coating of wax won’t protect it much, or for very long either.

Already my shoulders are screaming, as is my spine and nearly every other joint from that stretching suspension. But when the first lash of that stiff leather crop smashes into the head of my cock I immediately forget all of my other miseries. Sure I bounce and flop most erotically around. But nothing can abnegate the pain in my penis. Holy shit, suddenly I’m really on fire! And naturally those leather slaps just keep on coming.

Quickly they beat away the encrustations covering my erection, and start smacking down right onto the scalded flesh itself. This is agony unprecedented – at least for now and tonight – and I sob and scream uncontrollably as my still urgent erection is unmercifully whipped. But finally I’m bruised even worse than I’m burned, and Mistress decides to move on to other torments.

“Is your poor penis flaming with pain, boy?” she coos at me. “Do you want some relief, before I make it even worse? Okay then…here it comes!”

On the table is an ice bucket, filled with frosty cubes. Mistress uses tongs to choose one. Then she presses it against my penis-tip.

At first this is bliss indeed. But quickly cold becomes as distressing as the earlier heat. Wildly I try to wrench away from this torment. Unfortunately I’m as helpless as ever. Mistress laughs with gratification as she presses that ice against my penis-eye, freezing all those nerve-endings worse than ever.

If only she would slide it up and down my shaft! Instead Mistress continues to torture me, freezing the tip of my penis until I’m almost mad. Finally it begins to go numb however. And my wickedly perceptive Mistress realizes this.

“Not crying anymore, my love? Had enough of ice, have you? Let’s try some Icy-Hot instead then!”

This is a familiar balm for sore muscles, like Ben-Gay. Rubbed into sports injuries it works wonders. Slathered onto sensitive, wounded flesh however it has the absolute opposite effect.

Brianna snaps on a rubber glove. Then she smears nearly half a tube of this stuff all over my penis.

The effect is immediate: it feels like my cock has been thrust into a blast furnace. Yet not even this agony is enough for Mistress. She needs to be actively ‘playing’ with me. She moves up a box full of alligator clips, and pinches at least two dozen of them onto my swollen, burning shaft and terribly tender head. Cruel steel teeth bite into me nearly everywhere and soon I’m sobbing most satisfactorily.

Still not impressed, Mistress then takes a stout cotton cord, and nooses one end of it excruciatingly tight around the rim of my glans. Winding the other end about her fist, she starts yanking on me with all her might.

Pulling up, down, all around, in every direction but most especially straight out, she seems to be trying to rip my screaming penis right from my body. So gratifying does she find my garbled screams, and her own exertion, that she keeps this torment up for so long that the flaming pain of the mentholatum smeared all over me has finally faded away before she tires of it.

No worries though: she has a burning in store far worse than even that.

Dispensing with the rope, she methodically plugs all of those alligator clips into wires leading to a black box covered with switches and dials. This box is itself plugged into the wall, and soon the house electricity – which I’ve paid for myself of course – is searing into my penis from those many already agonizing contacts.

Playing the control board like a virtuoso, Mistress shocks me up and down the shaft, all over the head or all at once for over an hour. Titillated no end by my screaming and shuddering and convulsing, she makes this climax of her penis play last until I’m on the verge of insanity. By the time she’s done I’m so inflamed, burned, bruised and abraded, that my cock will need a week or more to heal. Then it’s time for the most insidious torment of all: pleasure.

Brianna removes all the clips, which by this time hurts even worse than their initial application. Then leaving the ring choking off any possibility of orgasm she starts stimulating me remorselessly.

Mistress grips my cock in her powerful fist, squeezing it tight. Then she starts pumping it harder and faster than I could ever manage myself. Professionally she jacks me, compounding the pain of my wounding terribly. And yet despite the agony (and maybe even because of it) the pleasure of this stimulation is greater than ever.

If only I wasn’t choked off I could come and come and come in mind-bending release. Of course, that denial is the whole purpose of this torture, and Mistress keeps squeezing and jerking me forever, switching hands whenever one tires and laughing delightfully at my ever-growing desperation. Finally she even presses my horribly abused organ between her sumptuous breasts and uses them to simulate intercourse. Oh the heaven and hell of having my screaming erection pressed between those tremendous tits and slid madly back and forth! I’d give anything to be able to climax and end this insanity. But our sessions together can finish in only one way: with sex in bed. Who knows how many hours after this latest fun began, Mistress Brianna finally decides her excitement is at the optimum, and it’s time for sex – or at least our version of it.

She removes the clamps and weights from my nipples, setting off a renewed screaming in my teats. She unsnaps the weighted harness from my balls: an exquisite relief. Finally she slowly rolls that strangling penis ring off my erection, another slow agony that she grinningly prolongs. Finally freed, my traumatized cock doesn’t go limp at all. Quite the opposite: knowing that the big payoff is close, I quickly get harder than ever. Inexpressibly eager herself, Mistress drops the weights from my feet, another unbelievable release. Leaving my ankles shackled to the spreader bar, she steps up the ladder and likewise leaves my wrists shackled when she disconnects the upper bar from the hanging chain. Taking my exhausted, tormented, still bound body over her shoulder, Brianna carries me easily to our bed. There she deposits me facedown atop a small hard corduroy-covered cushion chosen for just these occasions.

That cushion goes beneath my crotch of course, with my horribly abused erection bent back under and crushed into its coarse, corrugated surface. My ass is thus slightly elevated: perfect for Brianna’s idea of spectacular sex.

After one attempt, Mistress has utterly refused to allow me entry into her vagina. I am too big she claims; it hurts too much. Instead she delights in strapping on a cock of her own, and fucking my tender ass to many more orgasms than she could ever achieve otherwise anyway.

Of course, the fact that her hard cock is even bigger than mine and my hole much tighter than hers, and the resulting penetration thus far more painful for me is even less than irrelevant. It’s the whole idea.

And so I wait, gasping in both aftermath and anticipation, as Mistress Brianna dons her hard rubber ten-inch erection, lubes it up and moves into place behind me, ready at last to have supremely fulfilling sex with me.

At long last she switches off the vibrator and wrenches it from my already sore, dilated ass. Then before I can close up she stabs her huge cock all the way in: filling, fulfilling, and torturing me all at once. Then, deeply embedded, she falls forward atop me, crushing my smaller form beneath her superior size and weight.

Still bound and gagged and now even more painfully penetrated, smothered under her gigantic breasts and body, I’m unmistakably impressed with the indisputable fact of my physical inferiority. As always at this point I feel contemptibly small, weak, and hopelessly submissive. And as always Mistress Brianna makes sure that I do. With her big hot body crushing me into the bed and her hard cock impaling me to the hilt she brings her lips to my ear and breathes the obvious.

“You are utterly helpless, and my giant cock is all the way up your ass. How do you like it, Slut-boy? You are my little slut-boy, aren’t you? Later of course we’ll be loving equals again. But right now I’m still your totally dominant Mistress, and you’re just a pathetically cowed, horribly pained and humbled little slut, just waiting to be viciously fucked. And we both love it this way, don’t we?”

Still gagged, I can only acknowledge this truth by nodding. Mistress responds with a gloating, excited laugh.

“Good. It’s good that you know you’re nothing but a worthless whore when you’re in my bed. So take my cock now my sexy little sycophant! Take it like the greedy, disgusting slut that you are. Take it deep and hard and as painfully as I can make it for maybe an hour or more! Feel me pound your ass brutally in; wallow in the only kind of sex you ever get! You love it and you know it, Slut-boy!”

With that she clamps her strong limbs tightly against my body and slides her hands up under my bound wide arms. Gripping my shoulders from below to anchor me against the violence immanent she starts thrusting: pumping her muscular butt and driving her huge erection powerfully in and out of me.

Oh, Mistress, how it hurts! She is so big and strong, and I’m so weak and helpless! And yet she’s right: I love it. Somehow I find it within me to arch my back, and open myself even more to that degrading assault. Ever deeper she stabs into me, her panting excitement ruffling my hair as she ecstatically works her big strong body. And here at last all the torture she’s inflicted on my own swollen erection truly becomes useful.

Every domineering, butt-punching slam of her hips scrapes my inflamed, abraded, back-bent hard-on against that corrugated corduroy cushion. This is agony even worse than her cock coring into me, and yet primed as I am for it I find it wildly exciting. Brianna has easily succeeded in marrying penis pain with arousal for me, and the harder and faster she fucks me, the more excited I get. Burned, bruised, scraped raw and horribly swollen, my wounded cock is chafed unmercifully against that hard coarse lump under me. And still this wicked friction is more stimulating than even being pressed between her fabulous breasts.

Speaking of which, these are now crushed against my back, a delightful pressure I revel in every time I wrench my awareness from either my own burning prick or the one driving so unstoppably into me. Impelled by the incredible force of Mistress’ thrusts, the bed is slamming rhythmically into the wall above us, surely alerting the neighbors even if my gagged, agonized yelps and Mistress’ snarling grunts of ecstatic effort are not. Yet I can pay no more attention to this than I can those glorious breasts squashed against me, or indeed anything except that big cock so violently penetrating me and my own tortured epitome being driven ever closer to the climax that I’ve been so wisely denied all night.

For perhaps forty minutes we fuck like this, oblivious to everything except the escalating sensations overwhelming us. Mistress comes at least three times, her climaxes signaled by especially sharp cries and more-madly-than-ever jabbing of her hips and hard-on. At the height of this latest attack, with her frenzied thrusts pneumatically stabbing my ass and rhythmically grinding my wounded prick against the cushion so fast and furiously that it once again feels like it is on fire, my own orgasm is finally achieved. My balls spasm, my agonized erection spurts my spew onto the cushion below me and I cry my ultimate surrender into the gag. Then, utterly spent, I lie limply beneath my Mistress and endure another twenty or so minutes of being pounded into the mattress as she goes for orgasm number four. Only after she hammers this last climax out and into my aching ass does she finally pull out, remove my gag, unshackle my arms and legs, allow me off the soiled cushion and take me in her arms. Her kiss is as tender and sweet as her fucking was brutally fierce and prolonged.

“Good-night, Slut-boy. That was wonderful. Thank you for letting me use your body like that. I love you more dearly than ever.”

Heaven help me, I love her dearly too. With my cock and ass both horribly sore, I snuggle deeper into her big warm embrace and drift off to satisfied sleep.