Marla’s Submissive Secrets 


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by John Savage

Marla is different. Tell her you are going to tie her up and torture her, and instead of screaming and running away, she will smile and tell you to do your worst. Or best.  Whatever.  The helpless feeling that comes from tight ropes is pure nectar to her, as is the torture inflicted by the whip, or the biting agony of metal clips on her nipples. Pain is an aphrodisiac and she wants to experience it all. She wants to feel the ultimate in pure helplessness and suffering…

Published: 08 / 2009          No. words: 36,000EX1t

There was silence so thick you could hear your own heart beating. Then a swishing sound, but only for a split second. Then pain exploded in my ass — terrible pain, shocking, burning pain. I jerked hard and lost my balance and was suddenly hanging there, my feet dancing in mid-air, desperately seeking the chair as I gasped and made strange croaking sounds.
My feet found the chair and pushed up to relieve the terrible pressure on my neck. The noose loosened, for which I was grateful as I sucked in that wonderful air. I had feared when the noose had been pulled down snug around my neck that perhaps it would not loosen when my life depended upon it. But it did, and I was again standing on that wooden chair in the hot, dusty attic. My ass was still burning but that minor point had been forgotten in the struggle to get back on the chair.
As I stood there, breathing heavily and more scared then I had ever been in my life, a strange thought flashed through my mind. What did I look like, I wondered? For a second I envisioned the scene as it appeared to the man standing behind me with the whip in his hand.
First, there was the naked young woman standing on the chair. She was twenty-two years old, rather pretty, and with a wonderful ripe and full figure. Long shining black hair hung down onto her shoulders and danced around wildly when she had been struggling against the ropes. Oh, yes, there were ropes holding her prisoner, tight ropes, ropes on arms and legs, ropes from which she could never hope to loosen or break free. She was, in a word, helpless.
It had been so exciting when Tom had wrapped those ropes on my body. He did it tightly as I had instructed, cinching down all the main windings and knotting each section tightly three times before going on to restrict another part of me. First my wrists behind me, palms turned towards each other. Then my elbows, corded and pulled in tightly until I could feel the strain on my shoulders and my breasts stuck out proudly. Then my legs, above my knees and at the ankles.
Second, a rope looped around her neck, then passing up over a beam and down to a metal hook screwed into the wall for just that purpose. The rope had been pulled snug so that this naked woman had to stand very straight upon the chair.
And third, a gag filled her mouth, a rubber ball with a strap passing through it and buckled tightly behind her head. The rubber pushed down her tongue and made speech impossible. The rubber filled her mouth. This foolish woman had insisted that the man place that gag in her mouth for she wished both not to disturb the neighbors and to feel the increased helplessness from being unable to talk. And, although she did not openly state it, it was also so that she would be unable to call a halt to the torture she had ordained for herself.
Torture was the right word. The ropes were uncomfortably tight, especially those around her elbows, but the part the man was to play was much more than just binding her body. He had his orders. Stand behind the chair, a wicked looking black leather whip in his hand, and then lash the bare bottom before him ten times with all the strength of his masculine arm.
I had only felt the kiss of that whip once, and that had been quite painful. It was thin, with a thong at the end that felt as if it were cutting the skin. I knew that long before the ten strokes were finished I would be screaming and begging him to stop. Hence the gag. Wasn’t I a smart girl to insist upon that gag?


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