Standing naked, hands tied behind so that she could lean forward and move them up, but she could not lower her hands past her waist, her legs spread apart by chains as a sawhorse was pushed under her.
They jacked it up, one inch at a time until it was barely touching her skin. Then they started pulling her legs farther apart. It was just shoulder width, wide stance but comfortable standing. Now she couldn't even bring her knees together and the sawhorse was snug in between her thighs. They kept pulling her legs farther apart, and it was pushing her body down into the sawhorse, and pulling her arms up uncomfortably. She moaned as the pain started, but softly to herself.
Now he came over to her and pulling her hair softly out of the way, put the leather hood over her face, and buckled it on. The horse got higher again, another inch, and she made a soft sound of protest. When it went an inch higher, she lifted to her toes to try to get away from the pain.
"Almost... Just one more. Just a little more."
It went higher one more time, and she couldn't get away from the pain now. It wasn't the worst pain in the world, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"Perfect. Ok, we're ready. Just a few minutes, and we'll be done."
Like always, the photographer took forever taking 100s of pictures trying to get the right angle, the right lighting, the right mood. Her feet started to ache from staying on her toes and so she had to let her weight fall more onto her crotch to give her feet a break. She grimaced and moaned when she put her weight down, incidentally lifting her arms behind her as well, making her shoulders ache a little louder. The leather hood muffled most of the sound, but as she felt the pain, she heard the photographer scurrying a little more quickly and enthusiastically than he had been a moment before.
"That's good, raw feeling, perfect."
Without the light or much noise, time seemed to drag on. She tried to lean forward a little to relieve her shoulders hurting but had to jump back as she felt the weight on her clit. A breeze stirred through the room as someone turned on a fan. It had been getting a little warm, especially with the hood, but now she felt a gentle familiar tingling in her nipples. Just the movement of air brushing against her seemed to wake up her body, and to force the pain out, she dug deep inside herself to feel the emotion, the sexual emotion in her body.
It worked a little. She was able to handle the pain more, but now she found herself grinding on the sawhorse in the darkness of the hood, her small intimate world, while she was being displayed and photographed. It was weird how those two feelings and ideas could coexist. Pain and pleasure, enclosed and exposed. Simultaneously.
No comments:
Post a Comment