Garage Dungeon, Pt. 1

Jay and I enjoyed a delightfully erotic evening last Saturday. Both children were out of the house for the evening affording us the run of the entire house to be as loud and full of debauchery as we chose.

Jay busied himself in the garage, obviously making some sort of preparations as I awaited further instruction in the house. Upon his return I was bidden to follow him upstairs where I was directed to strap on my black sandaled high heels, remove all my clothing, and kneel before him to have my collar and leash affixed around my neck as well as my ankle and wrist cuffs locked around each limb.

Daddy then led me downstairs and outside to the garage. What I saw there both exhilarated me and filled me with gratitude for how much my Jay loves me. The weight bench had been moved to the center of the garage, the little TV out there was tuned into porn, and Daddy’s bag of toys was menacingly waiting for him by the bench.

I was ordered to lie face down on the bench, my ass vulnerable to Daddy’s every whim. My wrists were looped under a support bar of the weight bench and joined together by two or three locking clamps traversing the length from one wrist cuff to the other; my legs were bent at the knee, ankles raised, and tethered to either side of the weight bench via these same metal clamps affixed to my ankle cuffs and attached to metal bars running vertically along either side of the weight bench.

I was now utterly restrained and completely helpless as I felt the sharp, cold edge of a knife run over my ass cheeks as I quivered with a mixture of fear and desire.

“You like this don’t you slut?”

“Yes, Sir,” I confessed to Daddy.

“You like this too, you little whore,” Daddy proclaimed as he spit into my spread ass cheeks and inserted the NJoy inside me.

The crop met the flesh of my ass first, delivering several stinging blows, followed by Daddy’s hand bearing down on me. I moaned softly as my arousal mounted.

Daddy then pulled something crinkly from his toy bag, and as I looked back to catch a glimpse of clothes pins being removed from the cellophane bag, my face was slapped from the side.

“Did I tell you to look back here, slut?” Daddy roared

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir,” I sheepishly replied.

Daddy attached one of the clothes pins to the side of my breast as I held my breath terrified of the pain I was certain was to follow. To my surprise there was no pain, only pleasure and pressure. Daddy did the same to the other breast before walking behind me and laying some of the clothes pins on the bench between my legs.
I felt him kneading and rubbing my inner thigh, and it clicked what was coming next.

“No, no Daddy, please,” I pleaded.

He made no reply as he skillfully attached the first clothes pin to my inner thigh. Again to my shock, it did not produce pain…only pressure and pleasure. Daddy adorned my inner thighs with two clothes pins each as I panted with anxiety turned to pleasure.

Daddy then turned his attentions to my pussy…the fleshy upper portion to be exact. I squirmed and squealed, pleaded and nearly broke down into tears as I realized what he meant to do.

He managed to attach a clothes pin to the fleshy upper portion of my cunt despite my protests. While decidedly uncomfortable, the pressure was bearable.

Then to my horror, Daddy announced he had to do some things in the house, turned off the lights, and left me there bound and helpless with only the glow of the TV for light. I was too stunned to protest as he shut the door behind him...