A Risky Return to Sin City

As stated, DR. D’s opinion is that we didn’t cross the line with anything that happen with the young female sub, so I should feel no guilt and serve no punishment. Despite his free pass on her, DR. D believed that I still had many other transgressions this weekend that needed to be corrected through a sustained punishment. I thought I had been receiving plenty of punishments all along. Guess not enough. I was to ride the Spanish horse.

Truth be told, I was going to be made to ride it regardless. My mind had fretted for months that if I returned to the dungeon that I would suffer again on the horse because in my last journal I wrote that I wondered what riding it would be like if I wasn’t being maliciously electro shocked simultaneously. Then I had foolishly let some of my phone conversations with DR. D migrate to the same subject.

I have a detailed physical description of the horse in my last journal if you are interested. And you can read about the combined electroshock and riding tortures I endured. For brevity here, just know that the horse mimics the shape of an oversized carpenter’s sawhorse rising to a height of just under five feet tall. The leg sets are about three and one-half feet wide at the floor and there is five feet between each of the legs sets, making a horse that is an intimidating five feet high and five feet long, not counting the decorations projecting from each end. The business end, i.e. the top edge, is an unforgiving rounded point.

When I was released from the chair to lick up the floor, I had been placed in leather wrist cuffs that were locked together with a short chain behind my back. They will remain that way when I am hoisted up onto the horse. I was to be gagged too. Their choice this time, the pee-soaked rag. I was packed with it, held in place with similar multiple wraps of shipping tape we saw used on her, circling from my chin to under my nose, sealing my lips tight around my wet stuffing. Both a disgusting and effective gag. To complete my naked ensemble, the boys add a leather O-ring neck collar and leather ankle cuffs.

With them in place, I am lifted and sat down in the middle of the pointed edge. The rear O-ring on my neck collar is attached to a hoist cable that was dangling above the horse. It is raised until there is slight tension on my neck, providing the balance I need to keep me from falling off as my arms and legs will be useless. My ankle cuffs are then secure to a spreader bar underneath the horse frame, slightly spreading my thighs away from the horse sides. My full body weight now rests on my scrotum and my perineum, that tiny patch of sensitive skin between my genitals and anus. The unyielding board is pinching this skin against what I guess are my pelvic bones. It is rapid discomfort converting to outright pain.

My pronounced sentence will be one hour. A countdown digital clock on a stand is placed directly in front of me, set up so that I’ll watch in agony as the seconds and minutes slowly count down. Bastards.

I try to get comfortable, but the more I shift my position the worse it gets. I’ve amused myself many times watching women bound as I am. I have no idea how they can survive the crushing and pinching of the lips and clit of their pussies feeling the building discomfort I already have on the flat, smooth surfaces that make up my anatomy. I am resisting the urge to shift as my resting point is numbing up and that reduces the ache some. But I can’t resist, the moving gives me a fresh pain spot and pinching.

It’s been an agonizing fifteen minutes. I want it to stop. Please make it stop, I’m sorry for what I did, whatever it was. I want to cry. I’m a grown man, but that doesn’t mean tears don’t roll down my cheeks. That is answered with “Well I see you need something to take your mind off your suffering.” The diversion: One of my nipples is pulled and twirled between Master’s fingers and then he attaches a sinister nipple clamp. This style has two stainless steel bars that each partially encircle the nipple and are connected by adjustable screws with ball ends that give me a strong pinch as he screws both sides down tight. He pulls outwardly on the clamp, and it holds tight on the nipple. My other nipple is then clamped. Master then loops and ties a length of leather cord around each clamp and gives each a strong tug to make sure the clamps will hold. This is a repeat of what he did to me on the horse last visit. And as before these lanyards are stretched tightly and tied off to the head of the horse, forcing my weight more onto my scrotum.

I can’t believe this. The agony from the pointed rail on which I sit had been constant for the past few minutes which allowed me to slowly get used to it and absorb it. Now with just a little change, it is back to square one, fresh agony. I can’t get away from it.

It’s now been thirty minutes. Will I make it?  My body has again been converting my new pain into the form of bearable ache. It is pinpointed where the contact is and radiates outward. It first attacked the skin layers, then the thin muscles below and finally consuming the bone. It is a crushing injury. Thankfully, numbness in time does divert this pain to ache, but neither is pleasant nor provides the euphoria of sexual pain/pleasure.

This ride is different from the last trip. Then I was receiving violent electroshock stimulation as I rode the rail. That was just as excruciating but having two competing pain stimuli help both the time pass and the mind to keep occupied adjusting to the ever-changing pangs. This single action I think might be more penalizing, yes, it is crueler.

Forty-five minutes. The Bastards are back. They are fiddling with the spreader bar holding my ankles. They extend it, spreading my legs farther. The new pain is instant, so much worse. It seems to be making the point of contact on the ridge sharper. Brutal. The tears well up again. I notice I have sucked the pee-soaked gag dry. I tried everything in my toolbox to divert my mind from the pain till I gave up, succumbed to the pain and just mentally fad out, I drifted off to sleep.

Apparently, dozing was not going to be allowed. I am jolted back to my reality with a single tail whip laying a stripe across my shoulder. Looking up I see the clock is counting down to eight minutes. During those next eight minutes the tail covered my entire back with lashes, my secured hands trying, but being of little use to block the whip. There was ample time to also place red lines on both of my sides, my belly and my chest. It is on these hits that I see the strikes are being landed by the ‘straight’ master. I’m not sure how he was able to land each swipe on my chest with the nipple tethers in the way, but he did. He, like the others that have been abusing me during this rent-a-sub weekend, is well skilled at his trade. I saw his whipping skills on his sub and now feel them on me. As he works me over, he tells me this is his way of paying his debt for the service I had provided his sub. He is grateful. What? I did what? This is a reward?. He goes on to tell me his sub is presently soaking in a bubble bath back in their suite. He says with sincerity that this is an apt reward for her being a good submissive today, taking her punishment as a good cunt should without complaint or hesitation. He truly believes he is also rewarding me with the tip of his whip. That makes sense as he sees me as a bound pain slut craving this treatment. Not totally accurate.

He continues his work. The clock ticks down to zero. The whipping stops. I refocus from the mental trance I have been hiding in to control the pain as they unbuckle my ankle cuffs from the spreader bar, release my very tender nipples from their tethers and clamps and my neck collar from the cable. I am slowly pulled off the horse and dropped to the floor. My numb privates shriek back to life as the blood replenishes the area. The ache returns to outright pain that is very similar to the agony when tight nipple clamps are removed after pinching for a long time. My whipped skin too is afire. My ankle cuffs are locked together, and I am left in a heap on the floor beside the horse, arms still locked behind me. They are kind enough to remove the rag gag taped in my mouth. I survived the horse again. My mind and body are toast. My groin is experiencing spasms and cramps and a soreness I know will last past this weekend. I drift off again.

Not sure how long I laid there, it had been a while, but when I was woken, I felt much better. A dog bowl of plate scraps from what I guess was the group’s dinner was set down beside me and I was given permission to eat. After that handless challenge was completed, I was hydrated with a bottle of water and was assisted with relieving myself into a pee bottle. It was then off to my next quest.