The Dominafuhrer - THE GODMOTHER

Episode 33 - Tightening The Screws

Hoping that no one would notice how shaky my limbs were, I walked over to Kurt and started to undress without waiting for orders. There were some gasps as I removed my slave belt, retaining only my suspender belt and stockings, perhaps some had still not been aware of my gender or perhaps they were admiring my body. Trying not to think about what was going to happen to me, I diverted my mind to some pleasant fantasies because I was missing both David and Kelly and the dildo had only made me more in need of sexual relief. Perhaps little Tara would like that demonstration on domination later tonight and leggy Pippa was giving my genitalia some curious looks, would she like a closer inspection? Or would Clarissa like a soothing salve rubbed into the cuts on her lovely round bottom? Tall and statuesque Gisela was still a handsome woman and it would be nice to make love in German again….

I realised that that Kurt was staring at my quivering erection as it pointed at his midriff like a dagger. “Don’t you wish you had one a big as that? I asked and he balled his fists in anger. I waited for the blow but it never came because Bradshaw’s voice cut in.

“Sarah, you will be useless in the next event so go and assist Serjanus”. Kurt stamped away behind me as the timid Sarah approached, trying not to look at my groin or meet my eyes. Behind her, the anxious Waveney was almost off his sofa trying to see what was happening.

Something trundled and squeaked as Kurt wheeled it into position at my side and saw that his new apparatus was a variation on the one that he put Kelly into the previous night. The single frame was an open oval basket of metal tubes and wire which rotated between two metal posts on the base. At first glance there did not seem to be any electrics involved but there were chains with restraints attached and some metal bars which were hinged to one side of the frame. Kurt swung the bars open and positioned the basket in the upright position so that, having kicked off my shoes, I could step onto the little tray across the foot of the basket with my stockinged legs apart. My shoulders just fitted inside the frame and the back of my slave collar rested against the one padded bar across what would be the bottom of the basket. Kurt had to hang on to the frame to stop it swaying as he signaled to Sarah to clamp the restraints around my wrists, biceps and ankles. It took her awhile to complete that latter task because she was fumbling at the straps with her eyes closed as if trying to blot out thoughts of my penis as it swayed within inches of her head. “Shorten the chains”, Kurt commanded and Sarah had to bend down again make that adjustment until my feet were held tight against the metal tubular ring of the basket. Sarah was less flustered when securing my arms to the frame although I noticed that she did not look at my breasts. Kurt swung the two open bars back across my chest and groin and snapped the ends over the opposite side of the frame. There were two wooden clamps on the upper bar and Kurt directed Sarah to fit one over each of my breasts. She hesitated until he bared his teeth at her and, although she did her best not to hurt me, I flinched at the pain as my soft flesh was forced between the boards.

When my both of my nipples protruded Kurt pointed to the two little capstan screws which held the sets of boards together and told her to tighten them. Biting her lower lip and with tears welling in her eyes again, Sarah gave each of the screws a few tentative turns and I experienced pain, excruciating pain, across my chest.

“More! Keep going until I tell you to stop!” Kurt commanded and Sarah gulped as she obeyed. The pain was incredible and I was having difficulty breathing but I was determined not to give Kurt the satisfaction of screaming although I had a dread of my breasts bursting open under the pressure.

“That’s enough”, he said at last and I looked down at my chest through wet eye lashes. Both nipples were a livid purple colour and both sets of boards were so close together that I doubt if there would have been space to get the flat of my hand between them.

“A little bit tighter on the right one please”, I gasped to Sarah and she jumped, meeting my eyes for the first time. I smiled and nodded at her; at least I think I smiled as it could well have been the rictus from the pain that I was experiencing. Kurt snarled and Sarah made a show of tightening the capstans without actually doing so, then stepping away with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Now pull its prick and bollocks through the hole”. Kurt pointed to the flat bar across my groin which had a wide threaded hole in the centre (I guessed that attachments to penetrate vaginas were screwed into that). “Grab the top and pull, its not going to bite you!” Kurt snapped in exasperation as Sarah touched the tip of my penis with her fingers and then snatched her hand away. She did eventually get an awkward grip on my shaft but after several painful attempts to get it through the hole it was obvious that the bar was set too high and, with a curse, Kurt had to release the catches at the sides and lower the bar a little. Now, Sarah was able to drag my erect penis and testicles trough the hole, pulling my tattooed lower stomach flat against the bar. On Kurt’s instructions, she clipped a metal cone around the root of my shaft behind my sac so that I could pull back without emasculating myself. The painful pinching of the cone, on top of the agony in my chest, caused my erection to sag, much to Kurt’s amusement.

“Oh dear, we don’t want that shrinking do we. Sarah, encourage it back to the size that it was before”.

Sarah gulped and with a look of disgust on her face that I found offensive, despite my pain, and grasping my drooping shaft, slowly pumped it back to attention. “Faster! Faster!” Kurt encouraged her and a most incredible pain grew in my prostate as the cone prevented nature taking its course. This time I had to let out a grunt of agony which seemed to satisfy Kurt. “Get on your knees and kiss it goodbye, then I’ll take over”. 

“I’d rather you didn’t put in your mouth, Kurt”, I wisecracked or rather wisecroaked and Kurt actually laughed as he forced the resisting Sarah to the floor and then, placing his hand behind her head, pushed it forward. I couldn’t watch and had to look up when I felt her lips on my shaft close around my shaft and the foreskin meet the rough texture of her tongue. I groaned again and again because Kurt had grasped a handful of Sarah’s short hair and was it pulling backwards and forwards. I heard her start to gag and hoped that she would be sick over Kurt rather than me. The same thought probably occurred to him because he released his grip and she sank into a heap at our feet, coughing and sobbing.

Kurt applied his boot to move her out of the way and waved his bloodied whip in my face before pulling the frame forward so that I hung, suspended by my arms and ankles and pressing down on the bars, face down to the floor. Apart from my neck, the entire length of my back was exposed from my heels to the top of my head. I heard the whip swish to and fro and saw Kurt’s boots pacing up and down beside me. Suddenly, he swiveled on the soles of his boots and I was struck across my buttocks with a stinging blow. A yelp of agony had barely escaped through my gritted teeth when he hit me again and again. I lost count after eleven which was about halfway through because I was feeling faint and on the point of regurgitating my dinner on the wooden floor of the gallery. Sweat was dripping off my forehead and all I knew was that I was in pain, intense, excruciating pain, all over my body.  

When I realised that he had stopped, I opened my eyes and saw Sarah looking up at me as she crouched on the floor. The knuckles of her right hand were in her mouth as she sobbed and I saw that she too was about to pass out.

“Do you come here often?” I asked and her eyes widened as she understood what I was saying. The whip smashed across my shoulders and I was swung upright again, making my head spin and my eyes had difficulty focusing on Kurt’s snarling face, inches from my own.

“The more you provoke me, the more I shall hurt you and we both know that that hurts that cow of a Mistress of yours. And when I’ve finished with you, I’m going to have that bastard young coon and there’s nothing that either of you can do to stop me”.

Spittle from his mouth spattered my cheeks and I turned my face away. “Have you been eating garlic?” I asked in the hope that the vein I could see pulsing in his forehead would burst. Instead, he suddenly drew back, calmed down and his lips curled back in a sneer.

“I’ve got something which will make you smile; only it will not be on your face”.

He moved away and came back to show me another flat bar attachment for the frame only this one had a spiked dildo screwed on to it, similar to the one that Seraph had used on me four years before.

“Let’s try this one on for size shall we?” he hissed. ”If it doesn’t fit, I have a larger one”. He grasped the frame to spin me face down again as I spoke to him in German.               

“Put that anywhere near me and the Berlin Police get a buried treasure map of Zehlendorf with X marks the spot on it. Now get me the fuck out of this!”

The colour drained from Kurt’s, his jaw dropped open and the bar fell from his grasp to land with a clatter on the floor. Comprehension dawned on his face and he turned to stare at Miss Spiteful, who having heard enough of what I said, raised her glass in salute to him.

No one else understood what was going on and even less as, with a string of curses in German, Kurt punched me in the midriff and then strode back to his couch. I screamed because the cone bit into my flesh when the blow knocked me backwards and it was a minute or two before the throbbing pain eased enough for me to find my voice, albeit very weak.

“Would someone be kind enough to get me out of this?” Sarah, the nearest didn’t move and Pippa looked towards Kurt before responding but he was sitting on his couch, glaring at Miss Spiteful and ignoring Bradshaw’s questioning. It was Gisela who reached me first and sensibly released the restraints on my ankles before freeing my arms. Then, speaking soothingly to me in German, she slowly unscrewed the boards crushing my breasts and I groaned as the blood flowed back into the bruised flesh.

“Would you like me to remove the cone or would you prefer to do that yourself?” she asked with a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

“Nur zu!” I replied with a wink and shivered as I felt her long fingers touch my penis. She gently compacted my testicles so that I could withdraw them, and my penis, through the threaded hole. Free at last, I grasped the upright poles while I let the pain in my body reach some sort of equilibrium and my lungs resumed normal working. I realised that Gisela was still cradling my genitals in her hand and I raised my eyebrows at her enquiringly as my penis twitched and started to swell.

“Danke”, I gasped.

”Nein, Vielen Dank”, she answered. “Yours and Clarissa’s courage shames us who have been so weak”. With a gentle pump and the scrape of a fingernail along the underside of my shaft, she released me, smiled and then walked back to her place behind her puzzled husband with a spring in her step and a sway of her hips that I had never seen her use before.

I bent to pick up my tunic, knickers, belt and shoes, which was a big mistake, as it made me feel sick and giddy again and restarted the intense pain in my buttocks.         

“I take it that you don’t want to sit down”, my Mistress asked in her usual heartless manner as I dumped my pile on the end of her couch. I wiped my hand across my sticky buttocks and pulled a face at the blood smeared palm that came back up.  

“Awa’n bile ye heid, ye blutered auld biddee”, I muttered, safe in the knowledge that Miss Spiteful had never encountered Scottish slang.

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