CHAIN DAY

Going back now to Saturday, April 7, 2018, the day before the Master's tournament finale.  I think that Karl and I will remember it as "CHAIN DAY" for quite some time to come, but undoubtedly for different reasons.  For me, it turned out to be erotic, very erotic.  For Karl, well I guess the proper word would be "burdensome", though perhaps a bit of erotic as well, as things turned out. 


I had prepared for the day by borrowing some of Vanessa's vast collection of wrist and ankle shackles.  To these, I added my own special neck collar which was leather with a metal strip in the middle, a lockable clasp, and several "O" rings attached.  Clover nipple clamps with a small chain in between were on hand, of course, and a ball collar/stretcher just in case I needed a bit more metal for appearances sake.  I had made several trips to various hardware stores, etc., to purchase lots of chain in various lengths and thicknesses, as well as locks to go with the chains.  I definitely received some quizzical looks from store clerks, though no one said anything until I went to a farm supply store and asked for their heaviest duty chain in a 14 foot length.  The clerk asked me what it was for, and I told him it was going to be used with a tractor to pull a large tree stump from the ground, so it needed to be the heaviest and strongest chain they had.  That seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and I had him bring it to my car after I tried to lift it myself.  No question, that chain was HEAVY duty!


On Saturday morning, I informed Karl that he was in slave mode for the weekend and was not to speak unless spoken to.  Then I had him go to my car and fetch the various chains and locks from the trunk.  I wanted him to see all of them and wonder about their potential usage in his near future.  Of course, he said nothing, and I let him keep wondering as I ordered him to strip and stand straight up, chest out, stomach in, and all that sort of thing, and remain at attention in front of the pile of metal in front of him until I returned to the living room.  He complied, and as I glanced back at his ramrod pose, I noted that his cock had also complied with my "at attention" order.  How nice.


I'd thought a lot about my choice of dress for the day.  Leather seemed to fit the occasion, so I went with a black leather mini skirt, spiked black leather heels and a black leather vest over a dangerously skimpy black lace bra.  I left the vest open to give my slave a nice view of my midsection and the very generous cleavage above.  Oh yes, black satin gloves up to my elbows, and my favorite black leather riding crop held by my side as I went back into the living room.  I believe I looked quite daunting, and I certainly felt that way as well.  Daunting, and already turned on with thoughts of the day to come.


I paraded in front of and around  Karl, tapping my crop against my leg, watching his face turn slightly red as his cock went up a notch or two, and rewarding that appendage with a tap..or two..or maybe three with said crop.  I definitely had his full attention, but I must admit that I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of some "B" movie scene about a Gestapo interrogation or somesuch, and that wasn't what I had in mind at all.  So I put the crop aside for the moment and got down to the real business of the day which involved dressing my slave in preparation for the fun to come.


So I attached and locked the collar to his neck.  Then on to the wrist and ankle shackles, nipple clamps and ball collar.  Between the shackles, I attached 3 foot lengths of chains, secured with locks.  Not enough to hinder movement very much, but I wanted his hands and legs free to work and the chains to rattle when he moved.  Then came the big chain, the piece de resistance, so to speak,  I lifted one end of this massive piece of metal and attached it with a large lock to one of the "O" rings on the left side of his collar, followed by the same thing on the right side.  I was behind my slave as I did this, so the chain was now hanging down his back and onto the floor with the bottom of the chain in a loop and dragging on the floor about a foot behind my slave's feet.


I had slave turn around several times and walk across the tiled floor.  The sound of the various chains clanging around plus the very look of all of it was exactly what I wanted.  I looked at slave and gave him his first order as a chained minion:


  "You may now prepare my breakfast and serve it to me in the dining room.  You know what I like and how I want it prepared and served.  I'd advise you not to make any mistakes. Get started and don't make me wait a long time."  And so he did, as I basked in the sound of those chains being dragged across the floor, followed by the look of him when he arrived with serving tray loaded with eggs, sausage, toast, butter, juice, jam, coffee.  Balancing it all carefully while already sporting a sheen off sweat on his body.  After he put it all on the table, I had him kneel next to me while holding the tray.  "You may gaze at my feet while I eat breakfast.  Keep your torso straight and be still, and keep that tray straight out in front of you. For now,I don't want to hear any jiggling of those chains."


I glanced at slave Karl, completely enjoying the look of his body and his head bowed downward, all bedecked with chains as he struggled to keep still and maintain a solid hold on the tray.  I took my time, replacing the now empty glass, cup, small plate, silverware and large plate back on the tray as I finished with them.  "Bring it all back into the kitchen, slave, and bring me another cup of coffee.  You can clean up while I drink it.  Quickly now, get started!"


When I finished my coffee I went into the kitchen where slave Karl was still drying and putting away all of the breakfast dishes, and I just leaned against one of the counters and enjoyed the view.  I was already turned on with the reality of my "slave in chains" fantasies, and I was about to deal with that turn-on for the first of many times during that day. 


"Slave, when you're finished, you may drink one glass of water, and then crawl into the living room.  I want you on your knees in front of me within the next five minutes."  The sound of that crawl was unmistakable with all of those chains resounding against the floor, and the sight of Karl at my knees covered with chains and locks had me very wet and more than ready for some servicing.  I lifted my skirt, revealing a panty-less, already glistening pussy, and said "You know what to do, slave.  Keep your hands flat on the floor and get to it!"


Based on the positioning of our bodies, requiring Karl to keep his hands on the floor meant that he'd have to strain upwards with his head to reach the promised land with his tongue, and that meant supporting that huge chain hanging from his collar while he licked away.  One more burden for him....one more delight for me.  Such a delight, in fact, that I kept him at it for several orgasms (mine, of course).  Long enough to satisfy me for the time being and to get his arms and neck quivering with the strain of holding his position.  And to think, the day was just getting started!


After that first little "session", I had Karl stand at attention before me once again.  "You did very well, slave, both with your breakfast service and the much more delightful servicing afterward.  Keep in mind that your day is just beginning and that you'll be judged with everything I order you to do.  You'll be punished for any shortcomings, of course, and you can expect to remain in chains for the entire day and night.  Those chains are now an important and inescapable part of your existence for as long as I care to keep you in them.  Is that understood?"


"Yes, your Highness."


"Very well, slave.  You'll continue to speak only when required to answer me.  Groans, gasps or yells are also considered a form of speech, so see to it that nothing escapes your lips without my real or clearly implied permission.  Is that understood as well?


"Yes, your Highness."


"I'm going to test your resolve now, slave.  Do not make me unhappy."


With that, I reached for Karl's nipple clamps.  They'd been on for much longer than usual, and I knew
that the nipples must be somewhat numb by now.  It was time to get the circulation going once again, and what better way to do that than by twisting the clamps back and forth, pulling on them as I did so.  Karl had been through this sort of thing many times in the past, and he knew to clamp his mouth shut while he endured the agony that I've been told is very difficult to endure.  His mouth shook with the effort of keeping his mouth shut, but he somehow managed to avoid making any noise at all.  I'm always amazed and heartened to witness what a male sub/slave will put up with to please his Dom!


When I had finished and Karl had survived without a sound, I  congratulated him.  "Well done once again, slave.  Could it be that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders?"


"Yes, your Highness."


"So are you saying that without the threat of punishment you wouldn't follow my orders?"


"Uh, no your Highness." Karl quickly stammered.   "I'm honored to follow your orders no matter what the situation, your Highness."


I loved screwing with Karl's head this way.  "So when you agreed that the threat of punishment has a direct bearing on your ability to follow orders, you were lying  Right?"


Little beads of sweat were now forming on Karl's head as he realized that he was caught in a verbal mess.  "I didn't mean to lie, your Highness.  I just...."


"You "just" agreed to whatever you thought I wanted to hear, right slave?  You didn't bother to think about what you were implying, did you?  That's really very stupid, isn't it slave?"


"Yes, your Highness.  I'm very sorry to have been so stupid."


"Hmm," I said, and with that I reached forward and quickly yanked the clamps off of Karl's nipples.  Not expecting anything like that, Karl let out a loud yelp from the pain.


"I told you to keep your mouth shut, slave, unless you have permission to speak.  Yelping is speaking, as I warned you.  I'd advise you to learn from this.  Now go into the basement and bring the wide leather paddle up here."   Karl started for the basement, but I grabbed his collar chain and pulled him back.  "Wait, slave.  Turn around and face me."  Then, one at a time, I slowly replaced each nipple clamp.  Very slowly, as I let my fingers release the spring that holds the clamp in place, bit by agonizing bit, as Karl squeezed his eyes and mouth shut and uttered not a squeak.  "There, that's better.  Now get me the paddle." 


Chains clanging across the floor, chains clanging down the stairs, chains being dragged across the concrete floor in the basement, chains clanging as they came back up the stairs and across the floor again to me, and the paddle being offered to me as my slave in chains waited on his knees.  Ah, chains!


"Drape yourself over the back of the sofa, slave.  Count with each stroke, followed by "Thank you, Your Highness.  No noise!"  


Whap. "One.  Thank you, Your Highness."


"Louder, slave!  With more feeling."


Whap.  "TWO!  THANK YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS!!"


And so it went for 50 solid strokes, with the resulting red ass that I would enjoy all day.  Just another embellishment to my slave's chained body.  Well, I could go on and on about that day, but let me condense a bit.  There would be many more servicings for me and many more punishments for Karl.  He would be tasked with washing and drying my dirty clothes, ironing and folding nearly everything, and bringing them up from the basement to the living room, then up to the bedroom and into drawers and closets, dragging those chains all the way.


(A quick aside, as the remembrance of Karl doing the ironing in chains with the ruffled pink waist apron I had attached to him is brought to mind with an inner giggle).


Yes, he was fed, watered and allowed to rest, in a way, on his back, over the chains digging into said back, while servicing me with his head under my Queening seat.  Perhaps not a pure rest for him, but definitely a pure delight for me.  Yes, he scrubbed floors; yes, he vacuumed; yes, he sweated and strained; yes, he served me lunch and dinner; yes, he felt the paddle and crop more than once; yes, he had erections go up and down and dribbled plenty of pre-cum; no, he didn't orgasm even once, though undoubtedly, yes, he surely took great pride in all the many orgasms he brought forth in me:)


Lest you imagine that I'm nothing more than a sadistic bitch of a Dominant, I will add that just before Karl cuddled up with his chains to sleep at the foot of my bed, I did allow him to watch an evening wrap up of the third day of the Masters golf tournament.   He was very grateful.


The story of Sunday will be next to come.










   

CHAINS - AND A GOLF LESSON

I've been strangely obsessed with chains lately.  Big chains, little chains, fat chains, skinny chains, but especially huge, heavy chains.  Well, not just chains, but chains with a purpose, and this, of course, involves my husband Karl.  Though he's more used to being trussed with rope, he's certainly no stranger to chains being used to connect things like his wrists and ankles to each other, and of course the thin chain between the two ends of his clover nipple clamps is definitely an old favorite.


But this was different.  I wanted to see Karl festooned (such a nice word, isn't it? ) with chains.  Chains wrapped around him and draping from his head and shoulders.  My friend Patsy, who fancies herself a bit of an expert on matters related to psychology, has assured me that my desire to cover Karl in chains stems from the death of my friend Pete.  Patsy claims that the chains represent a need to keep a loved one close at hand, under complete control and incapable of escape and/or sudden disappearance.   I lost Pete, she says, and I'm not about to lose Karl.  Thus, the chains.


Well, that's a nice theory, and perhaps there's some truth to it, but the sexual charge it gives me to see Karl wrapped up in heavy metals can hardly be related to Pete's death.  My other dear friend, Vanessa, just laughs at Patsy's theory, and puts it quite bluntly:  "You're just a sadistic Dom who loves to torture your husband.  Nothing wrong with that, right?"  Now who am I to argue with that?


At any rate, Karl has felt the cold metal quite a bit in the last few months, and my sadistic Dom mind came up with a rather unique idea to celebrate Karl's "chainhood".


Which brings us, in a very roundabout way, to the subject of golf.  Particularly the Masters golf tournament  which is the Holy Grail of golf tournaments for viewing on television, at least according to Karl.  To say that he looks forward to it every year would be a gross understatement, and naturally I love to take advantage of that situation, as my faithful readers might remember.  Karl has come to expect that he'd have to pay some price for the privilege of watching the Masters, but I think he was surprised and confused when I began asking him golf related questions a few weeks before the actual tournament which takes place in early April.


My main question concerned those chunks of grass and earth that are upended and thrown forward when a golfer hits the ball on the stretch of grass between the tee and green known as the fairway.    Karl explained that these chunks are called divots, and they occur when the golf club hits down on the ball.  "Down and through" were his exact words.  To which I responded "That makes no sense.  If you're smashing a club downward into the ball, why isn't the ball pushed into the ground?"


Karl chuckled a bit (for which he would pay later) and explained to me that the club went down only after a backswing with the club was changed into a forward swing as the golfer thrust forward and hit the ball, creating a "down and through" situation.  The force from the speeding club allowed the head of the club (the iron part at the bottom of the club) to continue through the ground and forward toward the green.  I still couldn't see how the ball got so high in the air with a club crashing down on top of it, down and through or not, but he patiently explained that the metal head of the clubs were angled so that the ball actually went forward and rose in the air off the head at the same time that  the head continued downward into the ground, and a divot was created when the club continued its forward arc into something called a "follow through". The height of the ball and the length of the stroke varied from clubhead to clubhead, and there were a good dozen of these metal clubs to choose from.  He went on about club length and backspin and a lot more that I won't bore you with until I was fairly dizzy.  I  finally stopped him from any more explanations and asked the question I really needed an answer to:


"That's enough Karl.  What I want to know is which of these iron clubs makes the deepest cut and the biggest divot?"  Karl gave me a quizzical look, but he was much too smart to ask WHY I needed this information, and after some thought said "Well, you can get a big divot with any club, but most commonly the biggest ones are with what's known as the "short irons", which would be the nine iron, the pitching wedge and the sand wedge."


That was what I needed to hear, and I cut off the conversation before Karl could go into some long winded explanation about these three clubs.  No doubt he was frustrated, as he could probably go on for hours about anything golf-related, but enough was quite enough.  I now had the information I'd wanted, and my diabolical golf day surprise for Karl was going forward perfectly.


A few days before the Masters, I told Karl that if he wanted to watch the tournament he'd have to be in slave mode, and that his behavior would determine whether or not he'd be allowed to watch the event.  He'd serve my needs on Saturday without any viewing of the tourney, but on Sunday, the final day, he'd have a chance to see the entire finale.  On that day he'd be serving me, Patsy and Vanessa, and once again his behavior would determine how much of the tournament he'd be allowed to see.  The TV coverage went from early afternoon and on into the evening, so we'd see if he did well enough to watch it all or even any of it.


Karl nodded and said "Thank you for the opportunity, Milady."  He bowed and kissed my extended hand, to which I responded "Now kiss my feet and remember that as of Saturday, you'll refer to me as "Your Highness".  If I were you, I'd start getting into the proper head right now."


And so he did.  I'll finish this with my next posting.