Selma's Pleasure and Punishment: A Day of Service in the Garden

It was a good day. I managed to clean ten windows, even though I had to prepare lunch for Master and Mistress. Their WhatsApp messages interrupted me frequently. Each time, I had to trek all the way out to their beach house where they spent their sunny afternoon, catering to their needs by bringing drinks, Her glasses, and other items.

But after lunch, They headed off on a boat trip, allowing me to focus on the living room windows.

Delivering drinks to the beach house is particularly embarrassing because I have to wear my indoor maid’s dress. When I mow the lawn or weed the garden, I am permitted to switch into an outdoor outfit: High-heeled rubber boots paired with a suit that keeps most of my breasts covered and features a slightly longer hem to better conceal my package. I am never allowed to use panties, so there is always a risk that my secrets might be exposed: specifically, my backward-bent clitoris which is locked to the quiche piercing via two foreskin piercings. To ensure I remain flaccid, I also wear a custom-made (very small) Jailbird chastity cage. My foreskin rings are pulled out from the tip of this device. They pass between bars and lock together as well as to the quiche ring, so that the metal cage wraps over my testicles with the tip pointing between my legs. Inside the Jailbird cage, studs point inward; I have learned that I must never get hard. I’ve had to learn how to take pleasure while limp. If I do erect, the pain becomes excruciating as the studs cut small sores into my clitty.

The garden is quite secluded, but I know neighbors often peep and even photograph me serving my Superiors in my indoor black rubber outfit: a bare-breasted maid uniform with a short pleated hem, extremely high heels, long gloves, and stockings held up by suspenders. My humiliation is complete thanks to the heavy-duty steel rings in my ears, septum, and nipples. A chain connects the nipple rings, and I wear two lead weights as earrings that swing as I prance around.

Neighbors believe I am a female maid or sex worker employed by my Family: my former Wife and Her new husband Brad. Except for Bruce, our black neighbor who is familiar with my mouth and ass since I have been lent to Him a few times. Of course, I cannot be sure that Bruce hasn’t told everyone else that I am actually a shemale in real slavery. Nor do I know if anyone has seen the welcome-home ritual I perform for Brad: running sexily toward him into the garage and licking his shoes. Or our puppy play sessions in the garden. Or the little sulky where He sometimes climbs in, letting me drive Him around the grounds. I don’t need to know; I try not to think about it.

As Master and Mistress returned for dinner, They praised me for completing so many windows.

• ‘If you are lucky, you may be in for a session tonight!’

After clearing the table and ensuring the kitchen was tip-top, I was ordered to fetch certain toys.

• ‘Fix the long spreader bar between your ankles.’
• ‘On your knees under the pulley!’ A cloth hood was yanked over my head first. I am always blindfolded when stimulated. It had openings for mouth and nose, and a ball gag was fixed next. Then I was secured into a neck-wrist restraint … 66ccf0673d that holds my hands at the sides of my head. Earmuffs were put on, along with a posture collar that forces me to hold my chin up. Someone grabs my package from behind, fixes something around it and pulls them further back, making me push my ass out. Then my head is pushed backward too, and I feel tension in my nose ring. I have to tilt my head back until my face turns upward, and then the ball leash is clipped to my nose ring. Tying these two tender spots together ensures I do not move an inch.

Soon after, groping around my ass continues; the piercing locks must have been opened as I feel the clitty cage unlock and slide off, followed by the familiar sensation of my glans being fitted with a tight corona electrode … EP110.html that includes an urethral insert. The cage is not replaced afterward to rule out short circuits, but the foreskin is drawn back up and over the head, locking again to the quiche. I concentrate totally on avoiding erection while being fixed up. Now only the power lead disappears into my still-trapped package. Next, a butt plug electrode violates my ass. Because my balls are tied to the pulley, I must push back and accept the dildo without dodging it. It is large, stretching my hole to its limit as the bulky part enters; inch after inch of straight shaft slides further in, filling my rectum until I gasp into the gag.

Penetrated through all three holes, I wait passively for what happens next. Power turns on, and pleasurable waves of electricity begin fluctuating in my G-spots, frenulum, and prostate—the only stroking sensation I know now. I concentrate on feeling the delicate but intensifying currents that will slowly yet irresistibly bring me to a hands-free orgasm. But suddenly and surprisingly, everything stops.

I am left wondering what comes next. Minutes pass without sound or sight. Suddenly something is done to my gag, and warm liquid starts pouring into my mouth. Strong pee! With my head tilted back, I start swallowing quickly so as not to choke. It’s Master’s urine; I know this because I have been tasked with collecting it from the source and storing it for later use. He (or She) must have hung some in an enema bag attached to the pulley. I wonder how much of Master’s pee I must drink before the session continues and I get a chance to cum.

Next, I scream into the urine-oozing gag as I feel a heavy blow from a wide-tipped riding crop strike the center of my right buttock. I jerk forward, hurting my tied balls in the process. I concentrate on not moving an inch as subsequent blows rain down upon my naked, upturned, and spread buttocks. I can only hope my Punisher avoids hitting my balls with full force; they are covered entirely by the strikes, then a few strong blows land directly on my backward-bent clitty, making it glow with heat and pain.

Now my gag is suddenly opened and yanked off, and my earmuffs removed.

• ‘How are you doing Selma?’, Master asks.

I pant heavily but answer very slavishly: “Sir, I’m fine. Thank You; It feels so good to have Your attention. Thank You for the bondage and pain, and thank You most sincerely for the electro treatment as well—it was awesome, like always.”

• ‘I plan to concentrate on your breasts next. What do you say about that?’ “Sir, oh Sir, You made my breasts vulnerable tender targets for Your torture and punishments. So please, go ahead; I try to be worth Your effort. I try to deserve everything You give me.

My breasts are my pride, grown with hormones and implants: a C-cup, not mammoth but substantial—big tits that are very full and round. The gag is replaced, as is the flow of pee, and earmuffs go back on. In this sensory deprivation filled with urine, I start screaming into my gag as precisely targeted blows land upon my breasts making them bounce and causing me to thrash in my bonds; my hands open and close futilely while raised. Sir coats my breasts with the riding crop, slamming it against my soft flesh. A few times the crop hits the chain between my nipple rings, yanking both nipples. Finally, the nipples become the targets, struck again and again from different sides until I scream continuously into the gag and shake all over. As the heat, glow, and pain in my breasts match that of my buttocks, the blows cease and suddenly nothing more happens. Only more urine drips into my mouth—half a litre? A whole litre? A warm glow lingers in my ass and tits, reminding me of the body parts I share with genetic females.

Kneeling, hands raised in metal restraint, in my whor

A nearly bare-chested ensemble with the backside visible, every opening sealed, sipping Master’s urine — now I have a moment to process my entire predicament.

After what might have been fifteen minutes or an hour (I only know my knees began hurting fiercely during those silent intervals), the restraint linking my scrotum to my nose ring is detached, allowing me to finally rest both my balls and neck. A leash clips onto my nose ring, dragging me behind someone else. I shuffle along in a most awkward manner, wearing high heels held far apart by the spreader bar.

Eventually, I detect warm, moist air and that lingering musky scent of sex. My gag and earmuffs come off; I’m instructed to turn around then pushed backward onto the bed before being nudged into an optimal position. Now I sense knees near my head, one knee drifting over my breasts, a growing intensity in the sexual aroma, as a wet, naked pussy positions itself against my mouth. It feels so familiar that I know exactly what’s expected. Master has been with Mistress, and like always, it falls to me to clean Her up. Occasionally, I even participate in their coupling — perhaps fluffing Sir beforehand, or sucking on Mistress’s nipples or stimulating them manually according to Her preferences while Master pounds away at Her pussy.

With a steady rhythm, my tongue explores every crevice where semen and juices usually collect, licking everything pristine. Fresh semen trickles down Her vagina, so I periodically gulp it at the entrance. This is precisely when I get such strong erections that the studs start digging in. Unlike during electro-shocks or vibrator use, where I’ve learned to stay limp despite enjoying them, this duty awakens old instincts, making me feel as though my clitoris belongs with both mouth and pussy.

Suddenly, my rubber-stocking-clad legs are lifted by the spreader bar. They rise higher, lifting my hips; the bar is removed, and my ankles are tied to bedposts near my head. Soon I cry out in pain as a cane bites into my buttocks with fierce agony, forcing me to yield as much as possible. There’s no escaping those deep cuts on my cheeks since my hands remain helplessly secured to my neck.

Targeted strikes continue while I sheepishly swallow large mouthfuls of semen flowing faster now because Madame’s movements shake the entire bed. My buttocks have been primed by the crop and are ready for the cane’s more prolonged session as Master finds new spots in my rear to leave welts. Meanwhile, my tongue loops endlessly through Her pussy; I even lick the outer lips, savoring the silken texture of Her shaved flesh.

At some point, my ankles loosen, and Mistress rises up.

I am led back under the pulley while still blindfolded and pushed into kneeling. This time, my knees are spread wide apart and anchored to the floor. Soon my balls are pulled upward again, this time tethered to my ponytail via the pulley system — finally straightening out my neck!

My mouth remains free as a rubber dildo head slides inside. Afterward, Mistress announces: ‘Time for your blowjob trainer exercise. You know how it works.’ If I fail to suck correctly, each mistake triggers the SBBJ software with a loud sound; ET-232 mode converts that into a significant punishment shock delivered either to my butt or clitoris — something I dread greatly.

I begin taking the dildo deeper until pressing firmly against my throat elicits a soft confirmation tone. As I pull back slightly, another signal indicates when enough withdrawal has occurred. Getting used to this setup, I feel a sharp cane strike on my left breast below the nipple just as electricity activates in both clitoris and anus. Power increases gradually, sending friendly yet firm pulses twisting through sensitive areas with rough but distant pleasure.

After throating the dildo once more until confirming tones sound, right tit receives another cane hit — prompting quicker withdrawal this time.

Thus begins my period of enjoyment. Odd electric waves ripple across clitoris and butt cheeks causing periodic tightening while I concentrate on blowing the large dildo despite having my big breasts struck repeatedly by a cane. Unable to shift position due to hands held high above head via metal restraint, not forgetting plug inserts in both anus and urethra, dressed as maid attire with balls drawn backward over locked-back clitoris…

‘Stay still! Move only your upper body — no hip movement allowed unless permitted.’

I tense muscles whenever current surges through me trying to ride the wave toward climax. Still wearing my hood obscuring visibility of humiliation though everyone else sees clearly since footage gets uploaded online shortly.

Reaching orgasm proves challenging with free-standing electro-stimulation particularly difficult requiring deep-throat focus on oversized dildo avoid severe genital shocks plus enduring cane blows upon bosom which distract momentarily pulling away from blissful release. I feel so low, utterly submissive to Their control.

‘Fail your sucks and the game ends.’ Mistress now oversees proceedings closely; every attempt presents risk of failure leading harsh pain ending session prematurely. Concentrating solely on sucking technique transforming into machine-like efficiency: in-sound-strike-out-in repeat cycle endlessly teaching proper deep-throat mechanics weekly adjusting SBBJ parameters demanding greater depth speedier performance inflicting multiple shocks upon genitals occasionally tallying ten plus per single sitting losing rhythm easily resulting consecutive hits.

Abruptly interruptive messages arrive signaling impending ejaculation despite distractions ongoing stinging blows reddening already marked breasts without moving hips must continue relentlessly sucking dildo endlessly until finally climax arrives unexpectedly accompanied minor urethral surge mostly blocked electrode few droplets escape falling floor beneath rear indifferent event continuing electrical fluctuations bobbing head rhythmically upon dildo awaiting further instruction cane strikes left nipple then right similarly excruciating pain induces additional squirted drops passing through clitoral glans pointing absurdly upwards behind filled anus electrodes nearby yet separated soft swollen organ continues fellation exhausted drained till dismissed inevitably ordered clean Superior’s floors ready meal preparations.

‘Well done girl. You erupted when granted leave permitting small leaks didn’t disrupt task unnoticed unless I’d observed closely sufficient training nearing completion excellent Selma former slave capable handling minor emissions gracefully suggesting Brad consider reverting previous two-month cycle rather four months.’