Tantric Antics

In my previous life I must have been a spider. There is nothing I like more than luring men into my trap then binding them tight so that they cannot escape. Luring and binding. It reminds me of a session some years ago that was billed as ‘tantric massage’. If you don’t know, ‘tantric’ is a type of Eastern massage that begins with a whole body relaxation.  Muscles are gently squeezed, flesh stroked and the mind relaxed with soft and dreamy music. After around 45 minutes, the tantric masseuse begins to stimulate the cock and balls. Gently and oh so slowly. Then stops. Then starts. Then stops. The idea is to build a wall of sexual desire that once released sends shock waves through the body like a surging current of electric pulses. One after another. The skilled tantric can induce an orgasm that last longer than the subject has ever had.

And so I lured in a man with an offer of tantric massage to blow his mind, body, soul and empty out his balls like a fire pump. The customer arrived in my lair which was a darkened room with massage table, soft towels, softer music and scented candles. All very relaxing.  A relaxing spider’s web.

I asked him, gently, to undress and get on the table. He did so, closed his eyes, and I began. I was wearing a rather fetching kimono – the picture of the demure tantric. But this was a lure. Of course.

After about 30 minutes of total relaxation I started working my agile fingers on his groin, moving ever closer to his testicles and penis. My little finger would get ever so close and then pull away. Closer, pull away, closer – within a millimetre – then pull away. I could hear that he was getting excited as his breathing came in shorter and shorter spurts. I asked him to close his eyes tight and my pinkie finally engaged with his aching balls. Aching is right. Aching is what they would do.

Imperceptibly, I took off my robe – underneath I was wearing a tight leather thong, black basque, seamed stockings. I quickly slipped on a pair of black shoes with killer heels and a pair of soft leather gloves. I had transformed from tantric to dominatrix in the time it took the poor fool to take five short breaths. Still with his eyes closed, my now gloved fingers started playing with his balls. At first a gentle squeeze. Then tighter. Then like a vice, my fingers clamped so hard round his balls that they bulged and separated. I pushed a gloved finger into the valley between the reddening testicles. The man gave out a yelp and asked me what I was doing. Before he knew it, I had tied leather straps around his chest and legs. He was going nowhere. He was mine. A fly trapped in my cruel web.

He protested, cried out, threatened even but soon I had him whimpering for mercy. Mercy he did not get. Now strapped and bound in the leather web I had spun, he had to endure an hour of cock and ball torture, grasping pegs on his nipples and vicious pins in his battered balls.

After I had had my fill of torture, I decided to give him a present. I took off my thong and lowered my hot, sweaty arse on to his nose and mouth. I ordered him to lick. To thank me for my attention to him by cleaning me out with his worthless tongue.

He did as he was told. The customer had become a willing slave. Trained, beaten and transformed. The spider had trapped her prey.

 

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EBONY AND IVORY

(as told to Brainsex my writer)

I have always been in favour of racial harmony and integration. So what could be more integrating than having a white arse connected to a black arse with a red dildo? This exercise in togetherness happened last week when I invited my white slave to play with a new black supplicant who wanted me to abuse, humiliate and generally give him a hard time. Hard is right, or should that be hard on!

Anyway my black slave came on time, the white one was already in my clutches doing some much needed  toilet cleaning (with his tongue). Without a formal introduction, I ordered the black chap to strip naked (his ivory slavemate was already bollock naked) and promptly shackled their ankles together. Harmony or what? There they were, ebony and ivory side by side. Thus shackled I ordered them to clean my skirting boards and door handles and make sure that they  didn’t drop a molecule of water otherwise: trouble. I also ordered both to stay hard – make sure that their cocks were at full tilt. If one saw the other going limp, they had to wank them off to reinstate the full erection. Or else.

I made them do this for a full hour; of  course I strutted around in my leather outfit and wicked jackboots barking orders at them and giving them a slap or a good whipping if any breaches of discipline were made. And many were of course. White  guy had to wank black cock and vice versa many times. When all was clean to my satisfaction I decided to throw black and white alike into my cage in the dungeon. The stripped-naked twins shivered in the cold but  were told to make sure their cocks were hard, and stayed iron erect. I watched them with great amusement as they tried to stave off cold and keep each other’s hard-on hard on. They did this by wanking and sucking where necessary. And it was necessary a lot.

When I’d got tired of their feeble antics in the cage, I decided (as a merciful goddess) to let them out. But they were released on condition – their balls would be tied to a short rope, slip knot carefully tied by me (all those years in the Guides have come in handy) and like two puppies on a lead, I led them up the stairs literally by their balls. They looked so good together – a naked black slave, a white sub, pulled along by their mistress (who couldn’t help putting in the odd yank to make sure they stayed up with me).

Up in my boudoir I decided I needed some entertainment. So I ordered the two bare arsed slaves to sit arse to arse (still tied by the balls of course). Then I gave them a challenge: I would sit in a chair at the far end of the room, with my legs wide apart so that they could look up my skirt and glance my holy of holies, my gorgeous pussy. Whoever could get their tongues to my pussy first would reap a reward. Well there was much struggling, pulling, trying to pull the other away (all the while the rope round their balls getting tighter as they pulled). Eventually my strong black slave got to within tongue licking distance of my perfumed cunt. The black slave was to get his reward – a lick of my wet pussy lips but first a reminder that with every good thing, comes a bad. He, the winner, would have to pay for the prize: my electric fly swat on his sore balls. He pleaded, begged, even cried, tears flowing down his black face. But it was of no use, my  mind was made up. With ecstasy comes agony. I swatted his battered balls (and gave the other white boy a taste of my electrics too just to show that I am fair to all colours).

So ended my rainbow alliance torture session. Ebony and Ivory, in perfect harmony – both cried out in pain and it sounded so harmonious.