MRWADE55.STY                                        BY MASTER WADE
   
   
   
                          Julia's Begging: Part Six
   
                               More from Julia
   
   
        The  basement  room  couldn't  fairly be called a dungeon, I don't 
   suppose,  for  it  was  brightly  lit  and  warm.   The  floor was even 
   carpeted,  mainly  I  think  because  Master  likes  me on my knees and 
   doesn't  like  for  my legs to be scratched up.  But it had many of the 
   accoutrements  of  a  dungeon, a whipping post, a spanking bench, rings 
   on  one  wall  to  which  he sometimes tied me, and a wall covered with 
   instruments   of   torture   which  he  knew  how  to  use  with  great 
   effectiveness.
        There  were various short posts that he had implanted in the floor 
   of  the  room  which  he  could use to tie my limbs or the limbs of his 
   other  slaves to from time to time and for various reasons.  At one end 
   of  the room was a mattress which had four such posts around it, one at 
   each  corner.   Under  the  mattress  Master  had  installed the piston 
   portion  of a hydraulic lift, which when activated pushed the center of 
   the  mattress  up  into the air.  It was, I think, the feature of which 
   he was most proud, and he often used it.
        The  whipping  post  was  one  of  the basement support posts, but 
   Master  had  installed  wrist  cuffs just above the level of my head on 
   the  post and had also situated two smaller posts on either side of the 
   support to which he often bound my ankles.
        The  spanking  bench  brought  a  mixture  of  emotions to me as I 
   looked  at  it  with  remembrance.   It was shaped somewhat like a saw-
   horse  used  in  construction work, but it had a semi-round leather pad 
   across  the top of it which was padded just enough to make laying on it 
   relatively  comfortable.   The  four  legs of the bench stood away from 
   the  center  bar  at  angles  and had wrist and ankle cuffs attached to 
   them.   The  length  of the bench was such that when Master attached me 
   to  it  my  head  was hanging over one end and my cunt was right at the 
   other  end.   Just  below the place where my cunt would be was attached 
   an  old  coffee  can  which  Master put there to collect the juice that 
   flowed  from  my  hole  when I was bound there.  I had drunk deeply and 
   often  from that can and felt sure that I would drink from it many more 
   times.   The bench was at once the most exciting part of the room to me 
   and at the same time the part I feared most as well.
        As  I  looked around the room I noticed that some changes had been 
   made  since  my last visit.  Master saw my eyes open widely as I looked 
   at them and explained their usage.
        "The  four rings you see suspended from the ceiling can be used to 
   hang  your  slut  body  in  nearly  any  position I choose, Julia.  The 
   protrusion  under  them  is  yet another ram, much like the one that is 
   under  the mattress which can be used to support your body at strategic 
   places  if I so desire, among other things.  It will extend nearly five 
   feet  into the room and is capable of accepting numerous attachments at 
   its  uppermost  end.  You have read of something quite similar to it in 
   the  Linda  Chronicles,  which  as  you  may  remember  was  used  with 
   terrifying effectiveness.  Come to me and let me look at you."
        The  trembling  my  body  had been doing as I had entered the room 
   had  been  nothing  compared to what was happening now.  I was far from 
   cold,  but  I had goosebumps all over my body and my legs and arms were 
   shaking,  my  teeth  chattering noticably.  I walked over to Master and 
   stood before him as he sat in the soft leather chair and looked at me.
        He  ran  his  fingers  over  my  upper thighs lightly, feeling the 
   goosebumps  which  were  so  prominently  evident.  "You have beautiful 
   legs,  Julia.   It's no wonder to me that every man who sees them wants 
   to  stick  his  meat  inside  you,  nor  that every bi-woman who gets a 
   glimpse  wants  her  face  between  them.  Your slut tits are also well 
   formed   and   your   nipples   grow   nicely  rigid  with  the  proper 
   stimulation.  Turn around and show me your ass."
        I  turned  slowly,  letting him observe every portion of my nearly 
   naked  body.  I wobbled slightly as one of the high heels caught in the 
   nap of the thick carpet.
        "Your  ass  is  nicely rounded and unmarked other than some carpet 
   marks  from  your  having laid on the floor in the living room for your 
   recent  fist-fucking.   The  backs of your thighs are wonderful and the 
   stockings  just  the  right  length.   Remind  me to make you wear this 
   garter belt when you fuck Jim next time, he will like it very much."
        I  felt  like  such  a  slut  to  be  standing  there  with Master 
   commenting  on my body in such a way.  It was very much as if he were a 
   doctor  examining  me,  except that he tied every comment into a sexual 
   act  of  some  kind.  I was beginning to drip again and I knew he would 
   soon be able to smell my pussy.
        "Go lay on the mattress on your stomach, slut", he demanded.
        I  walked slowly to the mattress, aware of the moisture between my 
   legs  and the swaying of my hips as I walked in the heels.  I knew that 
   Master  was looking at my ass as I walked away from him and that he was 
   probably  thinking  about  what  he would do to it.  As I thought about 
   that I began to doubt that I would work the next day either.
        Master  connected  the  wrist  and  ankle cuffs, spreading my legs 
   opened  widely.   Moving  to  the  switch on the wall, he activated the 
   hydraulic  ram  under  the  mattress and I soon felt it lifting me into 
   the  air  until  the cuffs were pulling at my extremeties.  I was still 
   totally  supported by the mattress, but by body was bent in the middle, 
   my ass stuck high into the air.
        I  heard the familiar sound of the leather razor strop popping and 
   knew  immediately  what  was  going to happen next.  Master always bent 
   the  thick  leather  strop  over  and  snapped  it tightly, letting the 
   leather  slap against itself.  He said he enjoyed the sound and that it 
   warmed  the  leather  up  when  he  did  that.   For  me, the sound was 
   terrifying  and  startling,  but it still made my pussy get even wetter 
   every  time I heard it.  It had never felt cold to me, either, that was 
   for sure.
        His  aim was perfect on the very first swing of the heavy leather, 
   striking  me  across  both  ass  cheeks  with  a  resounding  "SLAP!!".  
   Usually,  my Master varied the timing of his swings so that I was never 
   quite  sure  when  I  would  feel the leather against my ass again, but 
   this  time he swung the razor strop contiuously and quickly, popping my 
   naked  ass  a minimum of thirty times a minute.  I can't be sure, but I 
   think  I  recieved  over  150  strappings  with  the  strop  before  he 
   stopped.   The  only  thing  I  knew for sure was that he would recieve 
   absolutely  no  argument  from  me  the remainder of the day, no matter 
   what he chose to do to me.
        Rather  than  carrying  me  to another position as he usually did, 
   Master  made me struggle to my feet and walk to the spanking bench.  It 
   was  all  I could do to move, and I know it took me much longer than he 
   would  have  liked  to  get  to  the  bench,  but I did the best that I 
   could.   My  ass  was  on  fire, both with pain and with passion, and I 
   could  feel  that  familiar feeling in my cunt that I only get when I'm 
   being  disciplined.  I've come to need that feeling, I know I have, and 
   in  spite  of the pain that the whippings and spankings give me I can't 
   help  wanting  it.   As  I  lowered  my body to the cool leather of the 
   spanking  bench I heard the first drop of cunt juice land in the coffee 
   can, and I knew it would be quite full before Master was through.
        The  wrists  and  ankle  cuffs were attached as usual.  Actually I 
   doubt  that  Master really had to bind me.  In the beginning he had to, 
   as  I often struggled to free myself.  Now I needed the pain as much as 
   he  needed  to  give it to me, but the bindings did serve to protect me 
   from  injury as I squirmed and I think we both also needed them for the 
   arousal value that they had for us.
        He  kept  me bound to the spanking bench for over an hour and used 
   a  variety of instruments on my ass cheeks and the upper portions of my 
   thighs.   First  was  the  paddle,  a  big wooden affair that warmed me 
   nicely  and  yet  never  left  a mark.  Next he used the thick gun-belt 
   that  he  seemed  to  enjoy  even  more  than the razor strop.  Then he 
   changed  to  a  thinner  and  not as heavy leather strap which began to 
   leave  whelps  on  my skin.  I could feel the skin on my ass and thighs 
   drawing  up  tightly  as the whelps formed and my skin became even more 
   sensitive  and  the pain grew constantly.  In between the bolts of pain 
   I  could  hear  the  dripping  of my slut juice into the can beneath my 
   hole.
        When  he  tired  of  using  my  ass  on the spanking bench, Master 
   unbound  me  and made me kneel in front of him and drink the juice that 
   I  had  dripped  into  the  coffee  can.  Nothing made me feel any more 
   submissive  than  to  drink fuck juice that had run from my hole simply 
   because  I  was  being spanked.  Its one thing to get hot from thinking 
   about  a  dick, but something else to get hot because one is being used 
   like a slave.  I never drip that much because of cocks.
        When  I had downed the can of cunt juice Master led me over to the 
   new  rings  he  had just recently installed.  This especially terrified 
   me,  because  of  my knowledge of what was done to the poor slave Linda 
   in  those  stories.   I began to beg Master not to use me in the rings, 
   but  he  simply  smiled and began talking about the nasty things that I 
   had  done  that day.  He reminded me that if I had been able to control 
   my  sluttish  urges that he would probably be fucking me with cucumbers 
   rather than whipping my naked skin.
        Luckily  for me, Master only intended to suspend me by my arms and 
   legs  with  the  rings  and did not plan to install rings in my nipples 
   and  cunt  lips  as  Master  Paul had done with Linda.  Many times when 
   Master  would  send me to masturbate I would think  about the rings she 
   had  in her nipples and cunt and would come strongly, but I had no real 
   desire  to  actually  be  faced  with  that kind of pain.  That was one 
   thing better left to the fantasy world!
        He  ran  my  arms  through two of the rings and slid the other two 
   rings  over  my  ankles  and  up  to  a  point just above my knees.  He 
   activated  a  switch which he removed from its position on the wall and 
   the  rings tightened against my arms and legs and began lifting me to a 
   spreadeagled,  horizontal  position,  with me facing the floor.  With a 
   solid  click  the  chains from which I hung swung into position and yet 
   another  motor  began  to  whir.   I  felt  my legs being spread opened 
   further  and  the motor continued to run until I felt as if my cunt was 
   going  to  be  pulled  nearly apart and then stopped suddenly.  Looking 
   underneath  my  outstretched  body I watched as Master set the recently 
   emptied  coffee  can  on  the  floor beneath me.  He held it there long 
   enough  for the the first drip to fall and then repositioned it so that 
   it  would  catch every bit of the fuck that ran from my submissive slut 
   fuck hole.
        My  mouth  was wet with fear and arousal and I could feel the cool 
   air  blowing  against my sweaty body and the presperation dripping from 
   my  hard  nipples.   I turned my head to the right to watch Master take 
   the  whip from the wall and cringed as I thought about the sting of the 
   thick leather tip on the whelps that already covered my ass.
        Instead  of using the whip on my already burning ass, Master began 
   working  it  against  my  feet,  which  at  least  were  afforded  some 
   protection  by  the stockings which covered them.  In no time, however, 
   the  nylon  was  shredded  and  the  leather  began  to  strike my skin 
   directly.   He  moved the whip over my legs, tearing the nylon from the 
   my  calves and then from my lower thighs as he moved up my body.  I was 
   suddenly  aware  of the extent to which I had displeased my Master, due 
   to  this  violation  of  his  general rule not to mark the legs that he 
   loved  so  much.   He  continued  whipping  me, marking and whelping my 
   upper  thighs  on  both  the  top  and the bottoms of them.  Tears were 
   streaming  from my eyes now, but even more copious were the juices that 
   ran  from  my hole and fell into the can beneath me.  I began to climax 
   as  the  whip lashed against my already marked ass and struggled in the 
   bonds  as huge waves of passion swept over my outstretched and swinging 
   body.   The  whipping  continued  on  through my orgasm and it was only 
   when  the passion had subsided that he allowed the whip to move from my 
   ass on up my back and, using underhanded swings, against my stomach.
        Upward  he  moved,  not hesitating to use the leather whip against 
   my  naked  breasts  and  concentrating  with evil accuracy on my tender 
   nipples.   The attack on my tits brought me to yet another orgasm, even 
   more  powerful  than  the  others,  and  I  began  to moan continuosly, 
   thanking my Master for using me as only he could.
        Finally  the  whipping  ended  and  Master  moved to the wall once 
   again.   I  was  dying  to  have something inside my hole.  Never had I  
   been  so hot, and I needed fucking more than I had ever needed it in my 
   life!   The  whippings and the accompanying orgasms, rather than making 
   me  feel  less  sexual  were  turning me on even more, and I would have 
   fucked  anything  that had a dick at that very moment.  Master hung the 
   long  leather whip back on the wall and took the cane down, snapping it 
   against  his  leg  sharply as he walked over to me once again.  I heard 
   him  chuckle  softly  and  realized that he was amused by the amount of 
   juice  I  had  leaked  into the can already.  What I could not tell was 
   that  the can was over half-way full already, and that Master would not 
   stop until the can was running over.
        