We’d met in an online BDSM dating site. Michael’s profile was deep compelling with everything I desired, a darkly sadistic fiend. After chatting online for a few weeks I finally agreed to meet for dinner
at a trendy and expensive restaurant in the city. Over dinner we chatted, keeping to safe in public topics but I could sense his eyes already undressing me. So, when he asked me if I’d like to go to his
place for a nightcap, I eagerly accepted.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting at the bar in Michael’s kitchen watching as he opened an expensive looking bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Smiling, he casually mentioned, “Cadence, after we’ve finished our wine you have three options. First, I’ll fully understand if you want me to call you a cab. Second we could go upstairs to the bedroom. And lastly we could go downstairs to my dungeon.”
Pausing to empty my glass, I smiled seductively, “Thank you Michael for giving me an out, but I think I’d much rather go downstairs.”
Entering Michael’s private dungeon, he gave me a guided tour. I was both thrilled and a bit terrified by his collection of bondage equipment as well as all the actual instruments of torture within his dungeon. Reaching a short bondage post he asked me to kneel. Guiding me down with my back to the post, he quickly shackled my wrists and ankle, locked an iron collar around my throat and strapped a steel dental gag between my teeth. With my jaw already aching under the gag’s strain, I stared up into his eyes as his smile gradually grew ominously darker.
I was a little surprised when Michael picked up a pair of sharp-looking clippers and sinking to one knee started to cut off my dress. Within a minute, my bra and thong panties quickly followed the ruins of my dress into the nearby trach can, leaving me with only my stocking and high heels.
Delightfully pausing for a few moments to roughly tug and twist my nipple rings, I knew Michael could clearly sense my growing arousal, “Cadence, you truly are the little masochistic pain slut, you claimed to be. I’m looking forward to seeing what it takes to break you.”
Watching helplessly as Michael smeared lubricant on an oversized electro-torture butt plug. I reveled in a moment of pure masochistic bliss as I tried to imagine all the painfully delightful pleasures to come. Within moments, he threaded the butt plug's wire between my thighs and slowly but firmly began to press its rounded tip into the tightness of my anus. Trying to relax as I felt the plug sinking steadily deeper into my rectum, my anal muscles painfully stretching to accommodate the plugs growing diameter, then just as I thought it was going to rip my asshole apart, the thickest part of the plug slipped into my rectum, finally allowing my tormented anus to relax around the butt plug’s slender base.
With that massive butt plug firmly seating deep within my rectum, Michael picked an oversized electro-torture dildo and easily pushed it into the already soaking wet depths of my vagina. Watching as he plugged both sets of wire leads to an evil-looking control box. I could feel my heart skip a beat at the sight of that oversized cattle prod and stun gun lying next to the control box. I’d discussed many of my darkest fantasies with Michael, with agonizingly brutal electro-torture being at the top of my bucket list, all the delightful pain without the bruises.
With a delightful sensation of dull pain, radiating from those two massively oversized intruders buried deep inside me, I watched with eager anticipation as Michael removed his clothes. His shirt revealing a chest of rippling rock-hard muscles, but it was when he removed his pants that I was truly impressed. His cock, while still flaccid was already fairly thick and at least seven inches long. I was trying to imagine his size when erect and what it would feel and taste like in my mouth, when he picked up that cattle prod.
“Cadence, the control box is set to deliver a random electrical shock through the butt plug and dildo inside you of varying voltage and duration. I think you’ll find the minimum voltage to be excruciatingly painful, the higher voltages only more so.”
Positioning the tip of cattle prods two electrodes along sides of my right nipple, I could see the look of eager sadistic anticipation in Michael’s eyes as he asked, “Shall we begin?”
Long excruciatingly torturous hours later, I still hung from that bondage post, exhausted, my mind awash in a state of masochistic euphoria. I felt utterly used. I'd never imagined in my wildest dreams that I could endure that much pain, for as long as I did. Michael was brutal and utterly merciless. When we’d talked, I’d asked to endure electro-torture without need of a safe word or limits, and Michal ruthlessly obliged. The only period of respite from the electro-torture came when Michael wanted to use my mouth for his sexual pleasure.
I became intimately familiar with feel and taste of him in my mouth, or should I say my throat. He had to be using some kind of performance-enhancing drug because throughout the entire night not thirty minutes passed before he was ready to use my mouth again. Over and over again he throat fuck me, pounding his massive, well over a foot long, erection balls deep in my throat. The only thing that seemed to matter to him was his own sexual pleasure. I don’t think it would have mattered to him if I’d died of suffocation with his cock buried within my throat, so long as he reached his next orgasm.
It was just after three in the morning, over six agonizing hour after he first pressed that fiendish cattle prod into my breast and switched it on, when Michael finally relented. Switching the control box off, he unplugged the leads to the dildo and butt plug and gently removed them from my body. I was starting to wonder if he had any clothes, he might loan me for the cab ride home, when I suddenly saw the knife.
Michael carefully pressed the razor-sharp looking point of the blade against my skin just above my navel. I could see the eager anticipation in his eyes and knew without a doubt he fully intends to stab me to death. I also knew he intends to stab me multiple times and that every time he pushes that blade into me, he’s going to brutally twist that knife in my guts before pulling the blade out and stabbing me again. Oh, and he's going to continue stabbing me in the guts until I’m dead.
I guess I shouldn't have shared such a detailed account of my favorite snuff fantasy without also mentioning to Michael that I never actually wanted to experience it...