Tilt Click

It had been about three months since my last self bondage and masochism session. My nipples were fully recovered and the memories of the torment had faded leaving just excitement and a wet gash whenever it crossed my mind. I was keenly feeling the need again.

Alongside the woodwork evening class I’d added a metalwork class, welding and general fabrication were now part of my arsenal. The college electrical technician qualification was still reasonably fresh even though I’d never used it. 

As usual my alarm was set for 10pm and as usual I was watching the seconds tick away. I switched it off the instant it began, immediately I felt the excitement in my pussy as I became soaking wet in apprehension of what lay ahead. I had become like some Pavlovian dog, my cunt conditioned to salivate on the sound of the torture bell. 

Resigned to my fate, I retrieved an ice-lock from the freezer, undressed and walked slowly through to the garage, my torture chamber. 

Everything was ready, checked and double checked.

I tied the ice lock in place then as always put my wrist and ankle cuffs on. 

I knelt in front of the workbench and lifted my tits onto the work surface. Luckily it was the perfect height. My F-cup tits spread out on the worn wooden surface, looking bigger than usual. I had screwed a leather belt to the bench to keep me in place, I fastened it tightly around my back. It kept my chest pressed hard against the bench and prevented me from moving my tits. I picked up one of the clover clamps and stared at the demonic homemade clamp waiting for my nipples. Did I really want to do this, I glanced behind at the waiting contraption my twisted mind had devised, immediately my pussy tensed gripping the balled up panties I’d stuffed in me earlier, right after getting solidly fucked by my ‘friend with benefits’. I hadn’t planned it this way, but when he called asking if I wanted a quick fuck as he had a job close to my place, it seemed like a good opportunity to add a little something to my discomfort. ‘A little something’ not quite, he was the most productive man I’d ever know. 

Of course I had to do this, my dripping, clenching, hungry cunt demanded it. 

I put the clover clamp carefully on my right nipple, gripping the sides, then pulled the attached cord to stretch nipple and areola forward over the bottom half of my ‘real’ clamp. The half clamp was glued to a triangle of plywood which in turn was clamped to the bench. I’d spent ages making them. Each clamp was made of two, two and a half inch squares of plastic cutting board with four threaded posts at the corners of the bottom pad which slid through holes on the top pad. The really devious part was that each square was covered in pins, each one cut to length, heated and embedded into the plastic leaving five millimetres of the point sticking out at thirty degrees like so many shark‘s teeth. Precisely 90 shark’s teeth on each pad in fact, all spaced out four millimetres apart in a honeycomb pattern. 

I lined up the top pad on the posts of the bottom and began sliding it into place. I had riveted two pieces of flat spring steel to the back of the top pad that acted like ratchets against the threaded posts, the top pad would slide down trapping my nipple but couldn’t return. I pressed down with my thumb and as my stretched nipple and areola began to be squeezed I released the clover clamp. Just as I thought, I didn’t really feel the pins, so many of them distributed the pressure. My stretched nipple and about an inch and a half of areola was securely clamped between two miniature beds of nails. I could feel the pressure, but it was mild, reassuring even. I repeated the clamping on my left nipple then gave each clamp an extra push while shaking each tit to be sure my clamps were secure. 

I was nearly ready, I put in my old school wired earbuds and clicked on the radio on the shelf below the bench, it was tuned off station, all I could hear was white noise. I put my blindfold on and putting my hands behind my back I interlocked my fingers. I didn’t want to watch the ice melting or hear the straining of the cord as it melted through the ice. 

I waited, thinking about my next torture, it would begin soon after this one completed. I blew gently at the ice lock in the vain hope I could quicken its melting, get it over, done. I ran through the mechanism in my mind, had I made a mistake, had the ice lock cords become entangled? Should I lift the blindfold and check?

BANG! I heard it over the white noise, an instant later I felt the searing pain in my nipples. My mechanism had worked perfectly. The ice had melted, releasing the cords. The two hammers held up by the cords had fallen forward, pivoting on the hinge at the end of the handle, each striking its target. Each of my nipple clamps had been hammered home. Well actually almost hammered home, the pins were all 5mm long but I’d put 7mm spacers on the posts. But I was in no doubt the hammers had done their work. 

Quickly I pushed the hammers aside, unclamped the triangle of wood and stood up letting the plywood triangle hang down with it’s two corner clamps well embedded in my teats. The third corner with shackle attached would be in use very soon. I moved carefully to my mechanics inspection trolley. 

I lay on the trolley and checked I was in the correct position, the end of the heavy leather belt hanging exactly at my pussy, my head positioned in the expanding foam holder I’d made previously. I hurried, strapping my knees to the outriggers I’d welded on the trolley, a strap across my hips and a strap around each upper thigh. Just to be sure I was securely immobile I checked and tightened each one, the thigh straps were so satisfying, I loved the way they pulled at my skin dragging my cunt lips open, open and ready. I hooked the rope hanging from above my chest onto the corner of my nipple clamp triangle then tightened the straps over my rib cage and shoulders. I didn’t want to see what came next so I pulled my blindfold down and secured my head in its holder and secured the strap over my eyes to hold me in place. I hated this every time I did it, I vowed I would leave it out next time. But now, it was set up, it had to be done. It was in my stupid rules, once I had set a torture task it had to be completed in full or I had to repeat the whole thing from the start, and it had to be completed within one month. I knew would need at least a month to recover from the abuse I’d already inflicted. I had to do it. 

I reached between my legs, the wetness surprised me, I thought my balled up panties would have soaked it up. With my middle fingers I spread the thick liquid over my lips and up to my clitoris, the involuntary spasms as my hips tried to thrust for additional stimulation reminded me, I couldn’t cum, not yet. I reached inside my hole and pulled at the ball of panties sliding them slowly out. The rough lace was so wet with my juices it hardly gave any sensation against my soft insides. I lifted the soggy mess toward my mouth feeling the drips on my torso. Slowly I fed the sodden underwear into my mouth trying to swallow down the horrible liquid, the smell of stale cum and cunt juice and the taste making me gag. By stuffing with my fingers and pushing with my tongue the disgusting mess filled my mouth and I secured the Velcro muzzle strap. Still the thick pungent liquid oozed into my throat. 

I was ready but for my arms. I knew from past experience this was my last exit point, my last possibility of escape. I knew I couldn’t pause, pausing allowed room for doubt. I reached out to each side and clicked the carabiners onto the waiting rope loops, gripped the handles I’d spliced into the ropes, took a deep breath of cum stinking air and pulled. The weight lifted and it’s support fell away. The ropes to my wrist cuffs were now kept in tension by the weight, there was no way I could release the carabiners, not until the battery in the magnetic lock ran down and released the weight.  

I listened for squeaks or whirring from my torture machine, nothing. Maybe the switch tied to the weight support hadn’t activated, maybe a linkage had… then I felt it, a slight tugging at my nipples. I’d built well, every moving part greased, every hard joint braced, smoothly, slowly, silently the pull on my nipples increased becoming searing pain as the thin nylon rope wound onto the shaft above. Then it happened, I knew it would, I’d designed it so, my whole mechanics trolley began to tilt forward as my torso was lifted from the floor by numerous devilish little pins embedded in my nipples. I tried desperately to press my fists against the floor to ease the load on my nipples, but I couldn’t, the tilt was too much. I knew exactly how far I'd been raised, 15 inches from the floor. The click was next. 

At the click my weight pulling on the rope set the shaft reversing and rotating the three foot long arm with the heavy belt riveted on the end. The heavy belt that slammed into my cunt on each rotation of the shaft. I tried to scream, muffled high pitched humming was all that emerged. I knew at the first whip of the belt that I’d done too much, the noise of the crack as the belt struck shocked and frightened me almost as much as the agony, my mind emptied, nothing but pain as five times the belt struck. 

And then nothing. I tried to relax as the pain receded and as it did arousal replaced it, or was it always there beneath a thin veneer, a fragile shell of pain. I tried to buck my hips gripping and relaxing my cunt desperately trying to excite myself to orgasm. The pulling of my nipples began again, frantically I increased my desperate attempts to drive my arousal, every muscle tense and shuddering with the effort. Click!

After five cycles of rise and fall I’d failed to achieve an orgasm, between the fierce whipping my cunt buzzed as the nerve ends tried to cope with the overload but still no orgasm. By eight cycles I knew numbness was setting in. I shook myself as hard as I could, the magnetic lock released. 

Instantly my hands were at my cunt dragging the wetness from my hole over my clitoris, rubbing it, scratching it, slapping it, garbled shouting through the gag at it “cum damn you cum”. Even as the tilt began again I drove my arousal. The click did it… a screaming shattering shaking orgasm as I held my cunt open for the last five whips of the belt.