Web Slave by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

Web Slave

By Master Ivan

11/13-16/10

I walked into the bedroom and gave a brief glance at the cam mounted high over the foot of the bed. The red LED was lit, indicating the cam was active. Next to it, the small monitor showed the image of the still empty bed which would soon welcome my naked, bound body. I saw myself next to the bed as I began to remove my brief slave dress.

The numbers on the monitor began to pick up, no doubt anticipating my bedtime. I went to bed promptly at midnight every night, so the subscribers to my website enjoyed the show I would be presenting.

Naked now, I got into bed and attached my ankle shackles to the clip links at the foot of the bed, spreading my legs wide open. There were links for my wrists as well—these connected to steel cables which would allow several feet of slack for a time. I attached the wrists, then laid back in bed and began caressing myself, already aroused, wondering if I would be able to cum tonight. I felt the collar at my throat. I tugged at it with one hand as my other hand slowly made its way down across my belly to my open and wet pussy. I pulled my ankles back from their shackles as well, thinking about the day. Were there any violations I had forgotten, things that would shorten my time available?

It normally took me a good twenty minutes to bring myself to orgasm, even if I was aroused already. If I had a clean record, the restraints would give me thirty minutes. I knew there were at least a couple violations, and they would shorten my available time, likely denying me pleasure. I was getting close fifteen minutes later as, suddenly and without warning, the shackles pulled my wrists up to the corners of the bed. I cried out pitifully, now knowing I would remain in denial for at least another twenty four hours. The lights would remain on for a time, brightly illuminating my opened body, then be extinguished so that I could sleep. At that moment, an infrared camera would be activated so that I would continue to be displayed online, naked, bound and exposed, even as I slept.

It all started with my former Master. He had introduced me to bondage, showing me the intensity of pleasure that could be enjoyed when my body was restrained and teased. As time went on, I became responsive to mild pain, things like spankings, clamps on my nipples and elsewhere on my body. He began limiting my dress, often “forcing” me to go out in public covered with far less than I would have chosen. Eventually, most of my old clothing was discarded. What remained was very provocative, marking me as a slut, perhaps more to the experienced eye.

Indoors at home, my dress code was specific. I had several very brief slavegirl outfits. There was a very short skirt, wraparound, which barely covered me when I stood upright and revealed me entirely if I bent over. Barely covering my breasts were only two brief half cups, fastened to the waist of the skirt below and tied behind my neck to hold them up. When the knot at my neck and the single button at my waist was released, the outfit would fall away leaving me naked in a second.

The only other things I wore indoors were my shackles—wrists, ankles and collar. And the collar remained locked on 24/7. I used the entry to my apartment as a dressing area—anything I would be wearing outdoors would be put on there and removed when I re-entered the apartment. Like the bedroom, as well as the kitchen, living room and bath, everything was available on live cam.

As I pulled at my restraints in bed, on cam, I recalled my collaring ceremony, put on for the benefit of my web subscribers. I had been wearing the collar for awhile but finally decided to add the lock. I bought the padlock and brought it home that day, and after stripping at the entry and putting on my slave garb, pulled the small padlock out of the bag. I smiled at the cam as I unwrapped the sealed package, bringing out the lock with its two small keys. I tested both keys in the lock, making sure they worked. I then hung the keys on a hook in plain view of the camera. I then inserted the padlock and locked it. Now, anyone who monitored the site regularly would know that that collar would not leave my neck unless I took the keys off the hook. There would be no duplicate keys.

I arose at 8 AM, the moment my wrists were released. Glancing at the monitor above my bed, I saw the usual morning numbers rising in anticipation of the performance about to begin. I immediately went to my wall mirror beside the bed, with the dildo stand in front of it. I had installed monitoring controls which would note the time I locked into the device, and I would be penalized if I delayed with more time. Quickly, I took the end of the artificial cock into my mouth, attached the short chain to the front of my collar and, once more, checked the monitor. I would not be able to back my mouth off the dildo while the chain was connected.

Another moan escaped my lips as I noted that someone had paid a fee to have my nipples clamped for the duration of my cocksucking exercise. I got the two clothespins and, with a pair of gasps, clipped them onto my erect nipples. One other option available was to shorten the chain on my collar, so I could not back my mouth off of it as far. I was grateful no one had chosen this option.

I linked my wrists behind my back, noting the additional pain it caused in my nipples as the skin was stretched. I then began stroking the cock in my mouth, taking it deep quickly, making sure to press the small button below the base of my cock with my chin to certify that I had begun my ordeal.

I heard the beep from the computer acknowledging my being on time, then glanced thru the mirror at the monitor to see if there were any time penalties imposed.

I moaned as I saw the numbers. The minimum time I would have to suck the cock was fifteen minutes. Subscribers could add time to that by paying a small additional fee, extending it to as much as an hour total. This morning it would be forty-five minutes.

My Master used to start my day every morning with cocksucking, the instant I awakened. I knew it was very good for my slave mindset, teaching me my position as a slavegirl. I would never be allowed orgasm during those exercises, as I learned to channel my arousal into a deeper devotion to serving Master’s pleasure. Now, with the dildo and mirrors, and the cameras and website, I had recreated something which was the next best thing to having a live Master there to train me.

I continued to suck the dildo. There was a tiny LED right over the dildo. Every few minutes, it would light up, the result of someone selecting an option from the website. When it lit, I had to deep-throat the dildo again and push that button with my chin within ten seconds, or more time would automatically be added to the exercise. I obeyed.

My usual routine with Master included a variety of possibilities during my “idle time”. I had housework to perform, and there were always conditions for that. There were no long-handled brooms or mops in the house now—I swept the floors with a whisk-broom on my knees, and when the floors were washed or waxed, again it would be on my knees with a bucket and rags or a hand brush. My meals would also be eaten from a plate on the floor with my wrists shackled.

All those rules and more continued to be enforced, clearly listed on the website for subscribers and monitored by the live cams. Penalties for violations were specific and could be imposed by the subscribers when they noted violations. There were limits, of course—one violation couldn’t incur a hundred separate penalties. But when a violation was noted, I’d hear a beep from the nearest monitor. I would acknowledge it—I always was honest about such things—and the programming would allow the users to select my penalty from the prescribed lists.

Late the previous evening, I had taken a small drink from the fridge directly from the bottle instead of using a plate on the floor. Several people had noted it, and I would have to acknowledge it if I were to remain honest for my subscribers. Now, as I did my extra punishment time sucking that rubber cock, nipples clamped, I was paying for that violation.

I finally got the signal that my time was done with the morning cocksucking exercise. I released my wrists and the collar chain, then removed the nipple clamps, with two cries of pain which I knew my subscribers would enjoy hearing. I took a quick shower, then got “dressed”.

One of the few options I allowed myself was the color of my slave garb. I had three colors available to reflect my moods. White was for times I felt like the innocent victim. Red was for when I felt hot and aroused. And black was for times I felt just plain nasty.

This morning, I put on the black. I also added thigh-high fishnet stockings, also in black, and a pair of strap-on sandals with five inch heels. There were padlocks available to lock the shoes on as well, with these particular keys hanging on the wall right there in the bedroom. Yes, the heels were required, a part of my uniform. I could be punished for not wearing them.

I checked my snail mail as well as my email. There were always a lot of emails from the subscribers: comments and feedback from recent activities, as well as suggestions for more things I could do on the site. I answered them all, sometimes impressed with the imagination of some, and occasionally shocked with some of the suggestions. No, I would not be getting a dog. No, I would not be indulging in any scat activities—too many health hazards. Outdoor bondage? I’d have to think about that one. Possible.

On to housework. I did the floor in the living room, then cleaned the bathroom. As usual, all on live cam. I then went to the computer to check on my morning bondage “tie”.

My RL Master had incorporated the tie, from the Gorean system, as a part of our regular exercises. Twice a day, I’d be placed in restraint for a period of time, anywhere from fifteen minutes to a couple of hours, depending on both the severity of the restraint and Master’s own whims of the moment. For the online system, I offered a choice of restraints that could be voted on, along with a way for people to spend money to increase the time within reasonable limits.

I would be told where in the house to go, what toys might be needed if any, and what position to be in. The computer rarely informed me of the time I was to be restrained, and there were also some possible modifications the computer might impose once the ordeal had started—some randomly, some at the paid request of users.

This time it would be a hogtie, in the living room. Not too difficult, if I was simply hogtied. But hogties always had my joined wrists and ankles connected to the overhead winch there. Once bound, that winch might well engage and raise me…sometimes just placing a bit of strain on my body, sometimes lifting me clear off the floor for all or part of the time. And again, I would have no way to know how long.

I stripped, got in position on the bare hardwood floor and connected my ankles together and attached them to the winch. I then latched my wrists and connected them as well. I moaned as, right on time, the winch engaged and began to pull up on my joined wrists and ankles.

It fortunately didn’t raise me into the air completely, but it would be hard enough. My body was bent in a severe arch, my breasts completely off the floor. It was painful from the beginning and would grow worse over time. I’m sure the viewers enjoyed my moans thruout. And before it ended, nearly an hour later, I was sweating heavily.

I dressed, then relaxed for an hour after that one ended. I knew I’d be having lunch shortly, then we’d see what kind of fun the afternoon would produce. I opted for some soup and a couple slices of French Toast, wanting to keep things light. Then I got the alert.

For a fee, users could impose extra ordeals. They could come at almost any time, so long as I wasn’t already involved in something that would prevent it from happening. In this case, it would fill out the time between lunch and my afternoon “tie”.

Again, I moaned when I read it, and quickly got out the required items. There was my large, realistic butt plug, and the harness to hold it. Even properly lubed, it took time, effort and some pain to get fully inserted. I tightened the harness to fasten it in place, one which would leave my pussy uncovered. I got out the cock-gag, rubbed it briefly on the outside of my pussy to pick up some of my juices, then thrust it into my mouth and buckled the strap holding it in. I then used the small six-inch chains to link my wrists to my collar. I’d just barely be able to reach my nipples with my fingers.

The taste of my juices always aroused me, as everyone knew they did. And the feeling of having a cock in my mouth did likewise, even just a rubber one. And now, every move I made until the ordeal ended, I’d feel that plug in my ass as well.

I checked the monitor again for the housework schedule. The items on that list were selected randomly, although it did a good job of managing things well. I maintained a very clean house. And now, I’d be cleaning the bathroom.

The cleaning went smoothly, although the bending and reaching I had to do wreaked havoc with the butt plug. And with my wrists chained close to my collar, I had to get my face into most of what I cleaned.

Apparently, my activity in the bathroom must have provoked some of the subscribers, as often happens. For my afternoon tie, I was naked, face down on the bathroom floor, my wrists linked around the base of the toilet for a full hour, the butt plug still in place. At least, the floor was clean.

I had to make a brief trip out after the tie. I gathered up a miniskirt, a bare-midriff button-down top which was sheer enough to reveal a great deal of what it covered, black stockings and the same red pumps I wore earlier. Knowing the tastes of my viewers, I left the plug in place until I saw what they had in mind. Checking the monitor at the entry, I moaned as I saw that yes indeed, the plug would remain in for the trip. And after I had dressed, I got instructions to unbutton two buttons of the top.

I shuddered as I saw half my breasts come into view as I obeyed. And I would remain true to the spirit of things—I would not button them while outside. Sometimes I even brought along a still camera and took pictures of myself in public dressed as ordered and posted them on the site later. Thruout the trip, I felt the plug with every step I took, remained very aware of my exposure and the way I walked the walk of a “plugged woman”. When I returned home and stripped again on cam, I know people saw the juices dripping from my opened pussy.

Oh, there was another note on the monitor—I was to clean the plug by mouth when I removed it. I obeyed, facing the cam as I did so, blushing deeply as I tasted what my ass had left on it.

Back into my slave garb again, I chose the red. I was VERY aroused with the day’s activities, and of course, I had been denied the previous night. There was nothing scheduled for the evening, and I had nothing that had to be done in my personal life, so I opted for a “Viewer’s Choice” night. People could select options from a prepared list, or optionally suggest things on a membership blog which the other members could also support. There might be bondage, pain, or a variety of ordeals limited only by the imagination of the viewers. I did have the option to reject suggestions if they got too heavy to handle, but generally I was faithful to their wishes whenever I could be.

This evening would be a challenge—one I knew would have been inspired in part by that mornings cocksucking ordeal while my nipples were clamped.

I would have my ankles and wrists locked together behind me by a single padlock as I knelt. The key to that padlock would be added to two others, the three keys shuffled, then each dropped in a far corner of my kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. I’d lock the padlock in the living room after the keys were in place. Oh, I’d also be blindfolded, as well as having my nipples adorned with weighted clamps.

I felt my heat rising with the idea, and offered a suggestion of my own. I had a leather discipline helmet with a built-in cock gag, far more intense and secure than the simple blindfold. While lockable, it would need no lock with my other restraints. The decision was unanimous.

I got the keys placed, then brought the remaining items I would need into the living room and knelt in the middle of the floor. I put on the helmet first, since it took a fair time to lace up and buckle on. I used cloverleaf clamps with three ounces of weight, since they were unlikely to slip off as I struggled to move around. Finally, gasping with the pain in my tortured nipples, I snapped the padlock committing me to my ordeal.

I knew the layout in the house well enough to locate objects to guide me, to the kitchen first. It didn’t take much movement to discover that that my current restraint caused me to move in a less than graceful manner, which played hell with my nipple clamps. They swung constantly, often jerking around very painfully as I moved. Before I got my hands on the first key, I was in serious pain and sweating profusely inside the tight helmet.

I also found it was quite a struggle to lean back to pick up the key. It arched my back severely, and I knew as the time passed, it would be an intense trial for my poor nipples. I retrieved the key and tried it—no luck.

I moaned as I began struggling towards the bathroom. I was already sweating profusely inside the helmet, and it would get far worse before it got any better. I could see no clocks, but I knew it had to be close to twenty minutes before I got my hands on the second key. It then took some time to get the key properly pushed into the lock. Nothing.

I was practically crying with the pain as I felt my way long the walls to the bedroom and the last key. And I felt some real pangs of fear when I felt my knee make contact with the key and push it some distance on the floor. I hoped it didn’t slide under my bed—I’d be in real trouble if it did. Thankfully, I located it again and got it inserted into the lock without further incident, and it did work. As soon as my wrists were free, I instantly removed the nipple clamps, screaming with the resultant pain as each was released. I think I spent several minutes recovering before I finally unlaced the helmet and took it off.

I only had about ten minutes before my afternoon tie was scheduled to begin, so I went to the kitchen for a cold drink. This time, I drank it from a plate on the floor, as per standing orders. Right on time, I then checked the computer for the tie assignment.

When I read it, I shuddered. There had been some discussion of games involving piss play. For me, it was very edgy stuff, but since it was technically within my limits, even if somewhat extreme, I allowed it to be added to the list as one of the more remote possibilities. It was titled, “Piss Pig”, and read as follows:

“You will go into your living room and kneel naked facing the large wall mirror there. You will have with you a facecloth, a large basin and a leather thong. You will urinate into the basin. You will roll up the facecloth and gag yourself with it, leaving one corner hanging out for several inches. Using the thong, you will pass the center of the thong over your nose to hold up the loose corner so your nose is covered, cross it behind your neck, then tie the ends to hold the main part of the gag deeply in your mouth. You will then pick up the basin and slowly feed the piss thru the gag into your mouth until half the piss is gone. If the piss gets on your hands, wipe them on your face and breasts. Kneel in place fifteen minutes, then again pick up the basin and feed the rest of the piss into your mouth. Remain kneeling again for an additional fifteen minutes. Following the exercise, do not eat or drink or rinse your mouth until your next meal.”

Ashen faced, I obeyed the instructions, gathering up the basin, facecloth and thong. I left my brief slave garb in the entry and knelt with the basin facing the living room mirror. Watching myself, I squatted over the basin and pissed, suddenly regretting the cold drink I had earlier, as now I produced well over a pint of urine in the basin.

With the smell already in the air, I worked the dry facecloth into my mouth and tied it in place as ordered, including the flap over my nose, no doubt to intensify the piss smell I would be forced to breathe thru this ordeal. I then looked down at the basin holding my piss. I could see the camera pointed at me, ready to convey the images to the website as I degraded myself. Knowing I could not delay, I picked up the basin and began.

I had to pour it slowly. As it entered my mouth soaking the gag, I tasted it instantly. A second later, as it wet the flap over my nose, I inhaled my first concentrated dose of the smell I would be breathing for the next half hour. It was devastating, as humiliating and degrading as anything I had yet done on camera or off. And unlike some things which start with intensity but wear down over time, this remained intense as the taste never left my mouth, and the smell was as strong at the end as it was when I started.

Fifteen minutes in, I had to drink down the rest of the piss thru the gag. I spilled a bit more of it this time, and as ordered, used my hands to spread the spillage on my face and breasts. Somehow, I understood the value of such exercises to my RL Master—he often told me that they were useful in teaching a slavegirl never to refuse to obey a command, no matter how degrading she found it, because a slavegirl is one who is trained to BE degraded, to serve on the lowliest levels imaginable, that she should seek out degradation and humiliation because it would make her a better slavegirl. And I could see my weakness in being reluctant to obey in this—it was only because of my lack of proper training and conditioning that I had any objection to the activity. I knew what I must do then. Regardless of my feelings, I must comment on this observation on the blog, noting that I needed more of such activity to make me a better slave, until it no longer presented a challenge to me.

When the time for the exercise ended, I cleaned up the equipment, but left the gag until last, not removing it until everything else had been cleaned and put away. I then remained naked, in the living room, on the bare floor, until supper time, tasting and smelling the piss as I knelt on the bare wood floor on cam, my wrists linked behind my back. The exercise had really brought out my submissive side, and I wanted to savor the moment.

I did some thinking over the next few days, about my submission, my training, my progress as a slavegirl. I could see that when I was sexually denied, I presented a more arousing image to those who watched. My pain tolerance was also very entertaining to my audience, as was the more degrading challenges in my day to day activities. Finally, I resolved to discuss it with the site members.

I talked with them about my prior training and the system my old Master had been using with me, including areas of training he had discussed but not gotten around to implementing. We decided that some of those things would be incorporated into the website and into my training program.

My pleasure would be slowly reduced. At the moment, I was allowed a chance of pleasure every night, limited only by my own efforts as well as the occasional punishment which would sometimes prevent me from cumming. Now, we would use Master’s old system. Fridays, I would remain denied, for two weeks. After that, I’d be denied two days, on Tuesdays and Fridays, for the next two weeks. Then it would be three days—Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, again for two weeks. A fourth day would be added, with Saturday added to the denied days. Beyond that, there would be increased opportunities for me to be punished by the membership with further reductions and lost pleasure days. All this would be in addition to the usual restrictions I was under when I was granted pleasure.

There would be an intensification of my daily ordeals with the Tie and some of the optional activities. The Tie would have its maximum time increased to three hours. The Viewer’s Choice program would be reopened for suggestions, with more liberal limits on what could be done. I promised at least three such nights a week, perhaps more in the future.

One interesting theme came up regarding outdoor activities. I would take an old tee-shirt, one which had been washed so many times it was already growing transparent. I would wear it outdoors for a daytime trip, with nothing under it and no additional cover available to me above the waist. When I removed it at home, I would take a paper punch, get a random fold of the material and punch a hole thru it, creating two holes side by side. I’d have no way to know where the holes were until I wore it next time. I’d add more holes every time I wore it, and I would wear it outside at least once a week.

There was some debate as to my sleeping arrangements. Most enjoyed the idea of my being spreadeagled on the bed, yet there was a strong contingent that suggested my being made to sleep on the floor. I decided I’d look into the possibility of creating the same arrangement with the sleep restraints on the living room floor.

All in all, things were going well. The circle of subscribers had grown and included a very imaginative core group. One guy among them, however, began to stand out from the rest.

He called himself “Edgar”. He often came out with some of the most imaginative ideas, many of which I used for the program. Beyond that, he seemed to be gifted with the technological expertise to show me how to make the ideas work on a practical level. And he had the attitude of a good, experienced Master.

It was he who came up with the ideas for some of my early punishment scenarios, things I could do to cause me some serious discomfort. One of them was the use of dildos in my cunt or ass which were “hot lubed”, lubricated with something nasty like Ben-Gay or Hot Sauce. He was reasonable though, cautioning me to be VERY conservative on how much of the substance would be used on the dildos, experimenting to discover my tolerances as well as issues like time and the quantity of substance to be used. Soon, I was bringing in more income, since such punishments would be special events, used to deal with major rule violations and charging more money to impose them. And I could control their use to some extent by laying out rules for what offenses each could punish and setting the right price.

He also pointed out to me that even when I took pleasure, it should not be by my own hand. He laid out a design for a toy that could give me a mechanical fuck on the bed at night, using a dildo in either my cunt or ass, one in which the speed, depth of stroke, vibration and even the time duration could be controlled by the users. I emailed him privately, explaining that such a device would be difficult to build as well as expensive, well beyond my ability. In response, he offered to build it and deliver it to me, in return for free access to controlling it for a few months after it was brought online.

I readily agreed to it. A few weeks later, it was delivered and quickly installed.

I did some testing on it to insure that things like the speed and depth of stroke would not leave me bleeding by the end of the session. I was pleased to find it even had an automatic lubrication device, should it prove necessary. As for the controls, the subscribers could turn it on or off, speed it up or slow it down to a crawl, vary the strokes from an inch to as much as my cunt could take. Since my fingers were no longer involved, my wrists could remain tightly bound for the duration. Even hours later, as I slept, the users could reactivate it and awaken me with another round of fucking. Better yet, there were separate arms with the dildos for my cunt and ass, so either could be used and independently controlled. Once this toy was installed, it became a permanent fixture at night for those nights I was allowed pleasure. Membership soared. And it occurred to me that I would no longer be allowed to pleasure myself with my fingers.

Some weeks later, Edgar pointed out to me that there was one thing still missing from the program—I had never been whipped. I pointed out to him that it was a bit tough for me to whip myself, and the program from my end would remain solo for the foreseeable future. He replied with a design for another machine that could do the job as an alternative to a flesh and blood Master. I would be able to set the base intensity of the strokes with a variety of weapons. Users could vary that within limits once it was placed online, as well as setting the number of strokes. Again, he offered to build it for me and deliver it, in return for free access for a time. With some fearful hesitation, I agreed.

It was a small box, mounted on a stand. It had an arm about two feet long to which the various whips and such could be attached. When triggered, it would swing the arm in one circle, delivering the stroke accurately to its target. It would be set up in the living room and would use the overhead winch to pull my wrists up when it was used, my ankles spread and attached to floor rings to keep me positioned to receive the strokes. He even included the weapons—a riding crop, a knotted cat-o-nine tails, a flogger, a broad leather strap, a singletail, even a cane.

I reserved a couple of afternoon activity periods to test the device and fine tune it. For each weapon, I programmed the stroke to match what felt like my maximum tolerance. Since it would be a punishment device, the users would be allowed to push the strokes beyond that point to some degree, and I would not have control over it. I even programmed it to raise that base tolerance by small increments over time so that my tolerance would be made to grow.

At Edgar’s suggestion, I decided to use Friday as a punishment night. By this time, I already was up to three nights a week—Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays—when I was kept sexually denied. And I resolved to take a “slave’s whipping” each Friday—a dozen strokes with a riding crop—before taking on any imposed punishments.

I must say, I was quite aroused when Friday began. To avoid temptation, I linked my wrists to my collar with chains short enough to prevent me from touching myself whenever I wasn’t otherwise restrained for the bulk of the day.

Finally, at about ten PM, I went to the living room.

I stripped off my brief slave rags and stood naked by the device. The control monitor told me that the dozen with the crop would be first.

I attached the crop to the device, linked my ankle shackles to the floor rings, then connected my wrists to the cables. Right on cue, I was hoisted up until my heels left the floor and I was nearly in suspension. I glanced at the monitor—the users were tuned in in record numbers, anxious to see my face contorted in pain and to hear my screams.

Suddenly, I heard the whoosh as the crop swung, and an instant later, my ass erupted in pain as the first stroke landed. I screamed, flailing about as I hung in my bonds, knowing myself helpless to stop my punishment. I had no idea how long the interval would be between strokes—the computer would decide that for me. It was probably a full minute between the strokes, and I heard myself scream again as the second stroke launched.

It did not escape my attention that the strokes were noticeably harder than my base tolerance which I had programmed into the system. A glance at the control monitor revealed that quite a number of people had paid extra to intensify the strokes. I moaned, knowing myself condemned to the full punishment.

When it ended, I was dripping in sweat. I could see my image in the monitor, and I certainly did look hot under the lights, my body shining. I hung there helpless for a good fifteen minutes before the monitor alerted me to more punishment coming—”Place Cat-o-nine Tails in the machine for further punishments”. My wrists were lowered, just enough to make the change in weapons. I did so, and seconds later I was again hoisted up.

Once more, I was made to wait, perhaps another ten minutes. Then the monitor announced, “From Tuesday, 4 PM — Deportment violation — Twelve strokes on the back with the Cat-o-nine Tails”.

My eyes widened as I read the words, and I shuddered in fear as I saw the machine raise up to center the strokes now on my back. And again, I screamed and flailed as the pain hit me. I recalled the occasion on that day when I had been lax in my movements, crossing my legs as well as violating some other rules. I had acknowledged the violations when the computer notified me, thanks to the alert viewers that had observed them. I would be very careful in the future.

That punishment over, I again waited. Was this just a post-punishment wait, or would there be still more?

My wrists were lowered again, and the computer ordered, “Free your ankles and turn around, then reattach for further punishment”.

I gasped. There would be more, and now it would be the front of my body that would be whipped. And it would be with the cat again, since no change in weapon was ordered.

Several minutes later, the announcement was made: “From Thursday, 10 PM — Concealing your breasts — Six strokes to your breasts with the Cat-o-nine Tails”.

I cried out, even heard myself saying “Oh NOOOOOO!!!”, as the machine again adjusted its height to center on my outthrust breasts. My eyes widened in fear as the first stroke launched, and once more I screamed long and hard, dancing in my bonds as I worked off the intense pain. The break between strokes was longer for these, allowing me to recoup my strength so as to present a more entertaining display as each succeeding stroke landed. I hung limp in my bonds when they ended.

I still was not done. The machine ordered, “When your wrists are lowered, attach cloverleaf clamps to your nipples with three ounces of weights.”

Again, I moaned, but I obeyed. I had no doubt any hesitation would itself be punished by an increase in my penalty. I cried out once as each clamp was fixed on my nipples, and again as I let the weights hang from them. Instantly, my wrists were hoisted up again, and the pain level on my tortured nipples increased an order of magnitude as the skin of my breasts tightened.

I was not told the duration of this punishment. It could be anywhere from ten minutes to a full hour. Fifteen minutes to half an hour would be typical, but that would be up to the paying customers. I felt the painful throb with every breath I took, with every motion of my bound body as the weights gently swung from the clamps. I tried not to move.

I suffered the clamps for a full thirty minutes, then was told by the computer to prepare for bed.

The punishments took a bit over an hour, so I still had almost an hour left to relax before bedtime at midnight. I showered, caught up on my newspapers and some last minute housekeeping before getting into bed.

Ah yes, this WAS Friday. There would be no pleasure for me tonight. I linked up my wrists and ankles, and was immediately pulled into a tight spreadeagle where I would remain for the night. I looked down and saw the rising welts on my breasts, and felt others on my ass and back where I would be sleeping on them. The lights remained on for an hour to allow the users to simply enjoy the view of me as my open and denied pussy dripped its juices onto the sheets. And later, when the lights went out, the infrared camera would continue to display my naked body all night as I slept.

******

The website was certainly a success. It brought me enough income so that I was able to quit my job, pay all my bills and still have enough money left to bank a good sum each week.

Now, the web software itself, coupled with the imaginative minds of my numerous subscribers, functioned as my Master. Much like it worked when I had a flesh and blood Master, I was able to say yes or no to advances to the next level most of the time, yet the day to day activities were controlled by others. Instead of one Master, I had hundreds, all able to watch me in my most intimate moments.

The ideas from the subscribers were a never-ending source of stimulation. Now, when my ass suffered a whipping before bedtime, I’d often sleep with a board under my ass covered with very rough sandpaper. This would renew the pain of the whipping all night, as well as raising my ass and tightening my bondage. A few times, I even slept face down with that rough board under my whipped breasts.

I purchased a chastity belt. Whenever I left the house I locked it on at the entry, all on cam, with the viewers seeing the sole key left on the hook. Sometimes on my denial days, the belt would remain locked on. I welcomed this restriction, since it was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to touch myself. Several times I had lost additional pleasure days because of violations. Now, with the chastity belt, violations like that would be impossible.

There was still one thing missing from the mix though, one thing I missed from my days with a flesh and blood Master--sucking a real cock. I wasn’t about to start visiting gloryholes in town and take the risk of disease or worse, nor would I be able to entertain the entire membership right in my home. But Edgar came up with a solution.

A select number of members who lived close enough to my area would be blood tested for STDs at the local clinic and present the test results to me, once a month. In return, they would be allowed the opportunity to come to my home and be sucked off on live cam. Edgar would be among the first, and I envisioned perhaps a dozen others available who could visit me in rotation on my denial nights to be serviced.

As expected, I had a great many emails from guys wanting to take part. The requirement for regular blood tests did shrink that number substantially, although when the dust had settled, I did end up with a dozen volunteers, all certified medically to be safe for play. And it occurred to me that by inviting in three at a time, I’d also add to my personal security since if one got out of hand, the other two would be able to keep him in line.

And so it was that the first night the program started, it was a Friday. I was in denial and would be until Sunday night. My chastity belt was locked on, one which left my ass fully available while preventing any touch to my wet pussy.

They arrived right on time, at nine PM. I greeted them in my usual slave garb, offering them masks to keep their own identities discreetly concealed from the viewers. They presented IDs as well as the required medical certifications, then were invited in.

I served refreshments, and we engaged in small talk for about an hour, with them seated on the couch as I kneeled on the floor before them, my heat rising by the second.

Finally, at ten PM, the computer announced it was time for the evening’s main activity to begin.

I stood, quickly stripped off my brief slave livery, then knelt in position in the center of the living room floor. I linked my ankles to the floor rings, spreading my legs wide. I then linked my wrists behind my back.

Edgar was first, as planned. He began by using my mouth briefly to moisten his cock, then moved behind me to use my ass. I cried out as I was opened, since my ass was always tight. He fucked my ass for several minutes before pulling out and moving back to my mouth.

I moaned as I saw his soiled cock, knowing I would now be sucking that cock on live camera. He took a firm grip in my hair and guided himself into my opened mouth. I moaned again as I began to clean him in my mouth, licking and sucking him with great care. He continued for almost fifteen minutes, using my throat at will, until finally he came both in my mouth and on my face.

I noted the computer issuing a reminder to me of one of the conditions for this event: “You will not clean yourself or rinse your mouth until tomorrow morning.” I shuddered, knowing I would wear that load, and the loads of the other two men all night as I slept.

The other two guys were certainly ready to take their turns. The computer issued another command, one taken from the many possibilities discussed. The remaining two guys would use me together, in my mouth and ass, and they would exchange places every five minutes until they both came in my mouth.

I took the first into my mouth and began sucking him. The second pushed into my ass hard, making me cry out as my filled mouth was gagged by the cock of the other. They pushed me back and forth between them as I was pinioned between the two cocks. The computer soon beeped and printed out the word “Switch!” In seconds, my mouth tasted the soiled cock from my ass as they swapped positions. It was at about the third or fourth swap that one of them finally came in my mouth. The one in my ass came around and finished in and around my mouth moments later.

I remained kneeling, restrained in the middle of the floor, feeling the cum drip down my soiled body while the men refreshed their own drinks. I also noted the computer monitor which showed me an all-time high in the people watching as well as a spike in new memberships. With about twenty minutes left before my scheduled bedtime, Edgar used my mouth again, soiling my face with the fourth load of the night.

I thanked them all for participating, and they let themselves out. I rose, removed my chastity belt and, before I could be tempted to touch myself, got into bed and fastened my shackles. Since this was a chastity night, my wrists were immediately pulled hard to the corners of the bed placing me in a tight spread-eagle.

I laid there in bed, seeing the image of myself that would be shared by the hundreds of viewers, my pussy open and dripping with arousal, the cum drying on my face and breasts. I knew why this path was so satisfying to me, in spite of my being sexually denied, even knowing I would remain denied another forty eight hours. I had been brought to a high level of arousal. Instead of having an orgasm and finishing, I was able to remain there, in that intense “slave heat”, indefinitely. Every time I pulled at my restraints, it renewed the fire. Every time I saw my cum soiled face on the monitor, I felt a thrill pass thru my body like a wave. Next to that kind of intensity, an orgasm would have been anti-climactic and over far too soon. I lived for this kind of experience, was born for the kind of suffering that translated into pure unadulterated pleasure at a level I would never achieve in any other way.

I pulled hard at my restraints, noting the way it made me open even further on the live cam and moaning at the physical response in my body. I licked at the cum still drying on my lips and tasted it.

I smiled.

The lights went out.

Master Ivan

finished 11/16/10

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