I was
so pissed off. Craig wanted me in my cast iron shackles and I couldn't
find them. In his usual fashion Craig adapted quickly and instead dragged
the heavy wooden yoke out from under my bed and fastened that onto me
instead. I hate that fucking yoke. It's cumbersome and I can't do stuff.
This particular one is heavy and spreads my arms further than the others
(yes, the bastard makes me wear more than one).
If wearing
the yoke wasn't bad enough he hobbled my ankles which allowed me a whole
eight inches of movement which would have been fine if I was barefoot
but not while wearing 4" heels.
Right off I wanted to go to the bathroom - so he said go ahead. I said "No way" Some how he didn't appear to care. Well, forget it I never did. Sometimes its just easier not to go.
I can't do anything in that damn yoke and I immediately felt the need for a cigarette I pleaded with him to let me out. I'm sure you know how successful that request was. I was frustrated and really pissed off by now. He just said in that annoyingly casual manner "light it yourself".
After
a few minutes of insisting I couldn't do it, my need for nicotine overcame
my stubbornness and I proceeded to tear apart my coffee table - knocking
things over with the yoke - as I figured out how to balance the damn cigarette
on the edge of the table, pick it up with my mouth, and light the damn
thing with a candle. Thank god the candle was already lit I cause I know
he would have made me light that with the yoke on too.
I finally
managed to light the entire end of the cigarette on fire but at least
now nicotine was working its way into my system and I was able to suck
on something smaller than his cock.
I feel
like such a piece of property when wearing the yoke I'm totally helpless
and under his control. I'm to be used as he sees fit. If he wanted to
give me away or share me with strangers he could. In a moment of terrible
indiscretion I told him as much. I was really getting horny now. He forced
me to the floor onto my stomach with my face ground into the rug and my
ass in the air. His hands were all over me and it wasn't pretty. I was
no longer anything but a thing to him. He told me so. Although I can't
remember any of the words, they drove me into a frenzied state. I wanted
to be there. I needed to be there. How could he have known. He made me
feel so cheap and helpless. I was his total victim. He wouldn't stop and
I couldn't have stopped him if I wanted to.
The limitations
and loss of control overwhelmed me to the point of tears. Thank god he
didn't stop. He knows me too well now and I can't turn back. My torture
continued. Eventually he tired of me and discarded me like a piece of
trash. Which is exactly how I felt.
When I'm in this place I give myself to him until he chooses to return me to myself.
After the longest time I somehow ended up on my back. When my senses returned I realized that I had somehow become immune to the pain of the yoke and found myself in a position that I actually regard as comfortable. In fact I was surprised I was still wearing the yoke.
In an
abrupt change of mood Craig started kissing me softly. A whole different
sensation started building in my body. It was erotic. Kisses turned into
caresses. Caresses lead to hands. Hands lead to a single finger on my
clit. It was nice. One finger lead to two. Inside me now, two lead to
three.....
Have you
ever been fisted?
End of story - except, did I ever tell you how much I like yokes?