Helping Aunt Rita Relax Over the Weekend

Chapter One:

I knocked on the door, and Aunt Rita opened it with a welcoming smile. I stepped in.

She waited for me to put down my bag, and then put her arms around my neck for a tight hug. I could feel her breasts pushing against my body, and I tried not to let her feel my member pushing against her.

“It’s so lovely of you to come over.”

“No problem Aunt Rita. You said you were lonely and had nothing to do over the weekend.”

She tightened her hug.

“You’re so nice. How long will you stay?”

“Let’s see. Today’s Friday evening. I’ll leave on Monday morning. Sound good?”

She reached up on tiptoe and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“That sounds wonderful. But what’s in that big bag that you brought?”

“Oh! Well, some clothes for me, and some things that we’re going to need. I say, you look like you’ve been out in the heat.”

“Yes, I went shopping. The heat’s unbearable.”

“Why don’t you go and take a nice cold shower while I get everything ready? By the way, where do you want me to set things up?”

“Umm…” she thought awhile, “How about my bedroom? It’s quite large.”

I followed her into her room.

“Is this big enough?” she asked.

“This’ll do just fine. Right! You go and take your shower now, and I’ll see to everything else.”

I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She looked up at me with wide eyes and bit her lower lip slightly. I looked at her affectionately as she went in to the bathroom to shower.

I set to work, and as I worked I thought of the conversation that we had shared a couple of hours earlier that had led to this moment.

Chapter Two:

Aunt Rita had called me a couple of hours earlier. I thought about the conversation as I worked on the floor.

“Hello?”

“Hello, it’s me.”

“Aunt Rita, how are you?”

“Fine. Do you have any plans over the weekend?”

“Not really. Do you?”

“Could we have one of our sessions if it’s okay with you?”

“Sure. I’d love to. So, would you like to come over to my place?”

“I would have. But my car’s in the workshop, so I can’t.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ll come over then. In a couple of hours?”

“Sure, I’ll be at home. Thanks so much! It would have been another horrible weekend with nothing to do.”

“No problem. I’m sure we’ll both enjoy it.”

Aunt Rita was the most beautiful of my aunts. She was in her mid-forties, but she had looked after herself reasonably well. She wasn’t exactly slim, but she wasn’t fat by any means either. She had been divorced from her late thirties onwards, and had never remarried. The divorce had been hard on her, and for several months after it, she had been gloomy and depressed. It was during that time that I had introduced her to bondage and discipline. She was able to fit into the role of a submissive quite well, and I could feel that the sessions we had together allowed her to release the pent up frustration and loneliness within her.

Her body was tender and her sensitivity to torture was quite high, so I always had to be careful while working on her. Over the years I had determined through careful probing her limits and was quite confident of my ability to give her the correct combination of pleasure and pain. She had been apprehensive at first, but over the years developed a trust for me and would even ask about when we could schedule future sessions. As our faith in each other grew, so did the pleasure we got from our sessions.

I stood up and looked at what I had put together. I pressed it down hard in several places to make sure that I had screwed the joints on just right. I could hear Aunt Rita turn off the shower, and after she had dried herself, the soft pat of her feet on the bathroom floor.

The bathroom door opened and Aunt Rita stepped out. She looked completely freshened up from the shower. She wore a white nightgown and was still running her towel over her hair. Her nipples were erect from her cold shower, and stood up against her dress. I knew that she wasn’t wearing a bra, because she had realized very quickly from experience that one would be of very little use during one of our sessions.

She took a step out of the bathroom and then froze, her mouth open in amazement.

“What is that?!”

Chapter Three:

I took my astonished aunt’s hand and led her towards what I had put together.

“It’s the portable torture table that I brought along.”

“I’ve never seen it before.” she said, her eyes running along the length of the table.

The table reached up to my waist. It’s legs were firmly built and had suction cups with which they held on to the ground. The table top was flat and had six parts. The central part was oblong in shape, and was meant to support the body from the base of the neck to the waist. Four narrower parts swiveled out from the central part, the upper two to support the arms and the lower two the legs. The final part extended out from the central part horizontally, and was meant to support the back of the head. The top surface of each part was made of shiny black leather. I could tell from Aunt Rita’s look that she found the table an intriguing and terrifying prospect at the same time.

“The reason you’ve never seen it before is because I bought it only a month back.”

“But will it make things any better?”

“I’ll answer that, but first you have to dry your hair and tie it up in a ball behind your head. No hair running over the neck, okay?”

She turned to face the mirror over her dressing table and worked on her hair. I approached her from behind and wrapped my arm around her stomach. She stiffened slightly. Not her fault, it had been some time since your last session.

“Aunt Rita, do you remember how you were restrained during our previous sessions?”

“Of course. Sometimes you’d tie my hands over my head from that hook in the ceiling up there. At other times you’d tie my hands to that horizontal rod that runs the length of the kitchen. At times you’d restrain me on my bed. At other times you’d tie my arms and legs to the back of the door. Sometimes to the wall. I can’t even remember all the ways.”

“Well, all of them involved a lot of standing. You won’t need to do that now. I intend to torture you for a long long time over this weekend, and I wouldn’t want your legs to get tired.”

I brought my nose close to her neck to smell the scent of the soap that she had used. She was looking at me through the mirror.

“You intend to torture me a long…long time this weekend?”

“Absolutely.” I said, giving her neck a nudge with my nose to make her gasp. “Come on, let’s get you ready.”

I made her stand facing me.

“Remove your dress.” I told her.

When we started off, this often involved a lot of hesitation, but not anymore. She looked straight into my eyes and with a smile on her face, slipped her shoulders out of her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her full breasts bounced enticingly as she raised her hands behind her head for my inspection. I looked affectionately at her body. She had extremely fair, smooth skin. Her breasts were well-shaped and they never failed to turn me on every time I saw them. She had dark brown nipples, erect now from the cold shower that she had taken, and they stood forth from large, lighter brown areolas. I walked closer to her, my eyes fixed on her breasts. She had some beautifully placed moles on each breast, too small to be seen from afar, but visible to my familiar gaze as I stood in front of her. She continued to look at me, and slowly lowered her hands around her breasts, holding them up slightly for my approval.

“They’re lovely Aunt Rita. And you’re lovely.” I said, giving her a gentle peck on her cheek.

I led her to the table. Tapping my hand on the central portion I told her to sit down.

“Shall I keep my panties on for now?"

I knew from experience that she preferred to have them removed later into the session.

“Sure,” I said, “Relax and sit down right here.”

Gingerly, she seated herself on the center of the table. I helped her legs up onto the table, and then guided them over their supports. Propping her body up with her hands placed behind her, she looked at me intently as I walked down to the foot of the table to secure her legs.

I reached for the straps that would hold her legs in place. For each leg, there was one above the ankle and one just above the knee. I fastened each one, not too tightly but just enough.

“Arms straight up above your head.” I ordered.

With a trace of nervousness regarding this new restraint device, she complied. I put one hand behind her back and gently eased her down into a reclining position. I adjusted the position of the head-support until her head rested comfortably on it, and then walked around to the head of the table.

Taking her arms, I placed them on their respective supports and did up the straps, one at the wrist and another just above the elbow. Again, not too tight, just enough.

I walked to the side of the table and looked down at Aunt Rita. She looked as beautiful as ever, with her wide eyes looking straight into mine. She still smelt nice from her bath, and her lips were moist and very very tempting. The restraint posture revealed her cute, soft double chin, which in her case, accentuated her looks rather than detracting from them.

I leaned closer to her face. I saw her eyes widen, and her arms strained slightly against their restraint. I ran my finger over her cheeks. I felt her breathing quicken. She lived alone, I thought, and a man was touching her after a long time. Who was it the last time, I thought. Me. About two months back.

I stroked her lips with my finger. She moaned as she licked and sucked at it. I took my moist finger and slid it down her throat. She arched her head back at the sensation.

My lips were now just a couple of inches from hers.

“I know you want something, Aunt Rita.”

She moaned in agreement.

“Well, what is it? Tell me.”

She moaned and licked her lips and puckered them for a kiss.

I locked lips with her, but before she could sink into a deeper kiss, I withdrew.

She moaned in complaint.

I reached down again, and she closed her eyes in anticipation. I got close to her, so that she could feel my breath on her lips. I felt her anticipation heighten, and instead of kissing her, I licked her lips with my tongue. She gasped and then moaned, throwing her head to one side in frustration. I brought my lips close to her ear and nibbled at her earlobe.

“All in good time, Aunt Rita. As much as you want, but all in good time.”

Chapter Four:

I reached inside my bag and fetched my pliers. The teeth were slightly serrated, specifically designed to pinch, but not to injure. I slowly brought the pliers into Aunt Rita’s field of vision, and as I held them above her face, she gasped.

“Oh god. What are those?”

“Pliers.”

“What – what are you going to do with those?”

“Now now, Aunt Rita. So many questions. You’re going to find out soon enough…”

I touched the pliers to her cheek and traced a line down the side of her face. She inhaled deeply, clearly apprehensive about my intentions. I caught her earlobe between the jaws of the pliers, and pressed them gently, with about the same force as a nibble.

“Ooooh!!!! Oh god!” she moaned.

I slid the pliers across her double chin. I knew from experience that it was very soft and tender. I gathered some of the flesh between the jaws and pinched it.

“Mmmm!!! Aaahhh!!!” she gasped.

“Did I ever tell you I like your double chin?” I shifted the pliers to another spot on it, and squeezed again.

“Aahhh!!!! What’s there to like about a double chin?” she asked, swallowing uncomfortably.

“Well, for one, I think it accentuates your face. It doesn’t work that way for everyone, though.”

“Well, I guess I should be glad – Aaahhhhh!!! God!” – I moved the pliers along the side of her neck and pinched a spot above her shoulder.

“Now where are those lovely warts that you had on your neck? You haven’t had them removed, have you?”

I explored her moist neck with the pliers. The warts were small, the type that wouldn’t repel you from kissing her neck, and kissing them. I found one of the more prominent ones. It was on the right side of her neck, about an inch above the shoulder blade. I parted the jaws, and slipped them around the wart. I waited for her to swallow, and then squeezed.

She shuddered on the table, and gasped violently.

“Aaaahhhh!!! God! That hurts!”

I tightened my grip slightly. She shrieked.

“Stop!! Please!! It stings like crazy! Aaaaaahhhh!!!!”

I released my grip, and massaged the tortured wart with my finger. She moaned at the touch of my finger rubbing over it.

“Oooohhhh,” she moaned, “It’s very sensitive. But I didn’t think that – Aaaiiii!!! Aaah!!!”

I had caught another small wart in between the jaws of the pliers, this one on the left side of her neck, about halfway up.

“You were saying?”

“Aaahhhhh!!!” she flinched, trying to accommodate the squeeze, “I didn’t think that-”

“That what?”

“That – oh, never mind.”

“No, I want to hear it.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Never mind.”

I tightened my grip. She stiffened immediately and then screamed.

“Aaahhhhh!!! Stop. It hurts a lot! Oh God!”

“Well, you were shy, and I thought you needed encouragement. In fact, I still think you need some more.”

“No!! No!! Please. I just didn’t think you’d squeeze my warts with your pliers.”

I released my grip, and she sighed in relief. I pressed the tip of the pliers under her double chin and thrust her head up until she looked straight at me.

“Really? Well, what part of you did you think I would squeeze then?”

She looked at me with her wide eyes, and gulped. I smiled.

“Ah! I see. You’re quite intelligent, I have to admit.” I slid the pliers down onto her chest, and then traced circular patters over her breasts. She stiffened at the sensation of metal jaws criss-crossing her tender mounds, and the skin of her breasts broke into goosebumps.

“Ooooh…” she moaned, and then caught her breath with a gasp, “Aaahhh!!!”

I pinched her left breast, about three inches above the nipple, and gently twisted the pliers.

“Oh God!!!! It hurts! Stop, please!”

I slid the pliers to the bottom of her right breast and pinched again. She stiffened and let out a scream.

“Ouch!! Hurts!”

I began to trace figures of eight over her breasts with the pliers, tantalizingly close to her areolas, but just shy of them. I could feel her anticipation building. I brought my lips close to her ears and whispered,

“Why don’t you just say it, Aunt Rita?”

“Say what?” she moaned as my stroking persisted.

“I know you want to say to me, ‘Stop pinching here and there and torture my nipples with those damn pliers.’”

She gasped and then blushed, turning her head away from me. I took her chin and coaxed her head back until she was looking at me.

“That is what you want, isn’t it? I know my Aunt Rita. She likes having her nipples tortured. I know that. It is what you want, isn’t it?”

A gentle pinch on her right areola made her bite her lower lip.

“Yes…aaahh…please torture my nipples with your pliers.”

“Good girl. Honest. I like that.” I bent down and gave her a firm kiss on the lips.

I caught one of her nipples with the pliers and squeezed gently. She stiffened and breathed in sharply. I squeezed harder and at the same time pulled the nipple upwards. Aunt Rita arched her back off the table, trying to contain the stretch.

“Oh God! Aahh!! Aahh!!”

I released her nipple and took the other one. While she squirmed every which way trying to accommodate the torment, I stroked her hair and looked down at her. She was still strikingly beautiful, and watching her fidget and squirm like that turned me on more than I could have imagined. The clock was ticking, but neither of us noticed. I used the full extent of my imagination on torturing her lovely nipples with the pliers: tugging, squeezing, twisting, pulling, pushing. I knew from experience that Aunt Rita had extremely sensitive breasts, and could be taken to orgasm simply through breast stimulation. But with a practiced hand, I kept her right on the verge of one, never pushing her over the edge. The minutes ticked by, and when I caught sight of the clock on the wall, it was a quarter to nine. Aunt Rita’s torso was covered in a fine layer of sweat, her nipples were proudly erect, her breasts breaking out into goosebumps as the pliers toyed with her nipples. With a final squeeze to each of her peaks, I put the pliers down. She looked at me, trying to figure out what was next. I brought my face close to hers, and gently placed a finger on each of her nipples. I knew that the session with the pliers had made them hyper-sensitive, and as I tickled their tips with my fingers, Aunt Rita gasped and moaned uncontrollably.

“You like this, Aunt Rita?”

“(gasp) Oh!! Oh, yes. Yes!! Aaahh!!! Yes!”

“You know what’s going to happen if I keep this up?”

She arched her back off the table.

“Yes! Yes! Oh, God!” she panted.

“And do you want that to happen?” I switched from stroking her nipple-tops with my fingers to stroking them with my fingernails.

She squealed.

“Yes! I want it! I want it so bad! Oh! I want it!”

“How badly do you want it?” I teased her, making her wait a bit longer.

“Badly! Real badly! Please! Please! Please make me cum! I can’t hold back anymore! Please!”

She was thrashing her head from side to side in ecstasy.

“Alright, Aunt Rita. You’ve been a good girl. You’ll get what you want.”

I intensified the stroking till my fingers were a blur running over her nipples. I watched in delight as her gasps became sharper, her moans louder, until finally they coalesced into one continuous shriek of orgasmic delight. I could tell from her body signs that she was on the edge, and I gave each of her nipples a firm twist to send her on her way. Aunt Rita’s sexy middle-aged body shuddered under my fingers as she experienced an intense and long orgasm. The tremors began to die down, and her sweaty torso settled back down on to the table. I leaned down and gave her another firm kiss, which she returned with gratefulness. Her breathing was heavy and contented. She had let off her load, and having watched her struggle against her nipple torment meant that I badly needed to let off mine. I unfastened her straps and hurried into the bathroom.

When I returned, I found Aunt Rita sitting on the torture table, a contented smile on her glowing face. I helped her off the table and gave her a tight hug, which she enjoyed despite the stinging sensation as her nipples pressed against my chest.

The orgasm and the session on the table had obviously made her horny, and I now found her slipping her hands under my T-shirt and stroking my chest. She made her way up to my nipples, and traced circles around them with her fingers. Her chin was on my chest, and her wide eyes looked straight into mine.

“You make me very, very happy.” she whispered.

I fondled her still erect nipples between my fingers.

“The feeling’s mutual, Aunt Rita. But you can make me happier too.”

“How?” she asked in earnest.

“It’s dinnertime. You can prepare dinner.”

“Sure. Can I put my clothes back on?”

“Of what use are clothes when we’re together?”

She giggled.

“So you want me to serve you dinner naked?”

“See what a nice aunt you are!”

I followed her into her kitchen, and watched as she selected microwavable food from her fridge. I massaged her back and shoulders as she worked, and when she had put the food into the microwave and turned it on, I embraced her from behind. I knew she liked that, and as she leaned her head back into me, I began to kiss her on the side of her neck.

“Mmmm…I can’t even remember when you did that the last time.”

“Neither can I. Did you enjoy the session?”

“I loved it.”

“Did it hurt a lot?”

“It hurt a bit. Just the right bit. For a woman, where’s pleasure without pain?”

“That’s true, Aunt Rita.”

Suddenly she whirled around and put her arms around my neck.

“You have to stop calling me Aunt Rita.”

I knew what she was getting at, but I decided to play along.

“But then what will I call you?”

“While you are here, I’m not your aunt. I’m your slave. You can call me slave Rita or simply Rita.”

“I see. And what will you call me?”

She pressed her breasts into my body.

“I will call you Master. You’re my Master. I’m your slave. I am at your command, Master.”

I could tell that that terrific orgasm had done her a lot of good. She was in a better mood than I had seen her in in a long time. The microwave beeped. Dinner was ready.

“Alright, Rita. Bring us our dinner.”

She smiled and snuggled up to me.

“Yes, Master. Right away.”

I turned to leave, but then stopped and walked back up to her and put my arms around her waist.

“Rita, put your hands on the back of your thighs and lean your head back for me.”

She looked surprised at first, but her mood was simply too good.

“Yes, Master.” she said as she threw her head back.

I waited a while, and then darted forward and landed a kiss on each of her nipples. She shuddered in surprise and gasped in pleasure. I eased her head forward. Her breathing was heavy again.

“Dinner, Rita. I’ll be waiting.”

I went over to her dining room and seated myself at the stable, waiting for my naked Aunt to serve me dinner.

Chapter Five:

I hear Rita’s footsteps, and presently she entered the dining room carrying a plate in each hand which she put down on the table. She lived all alone, and so used a small dining table. I occupied one of the chairs, and she settled into the chair next to me, so that we were side by side in a quarter-to-seven arrangement, with Aunt Rita on my left.

I inspected the food that she had prepared: spaghetti with meatballs and sausages. I leaned close to her and gave her a kiss of approval.

“Okay, Rita. Let’s get started. Looks delicious.”

“I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. I thought I might plan with you what we do over the next two days.”

Rita forked a meatball and began to chew it.

“What are your plans, Master?”

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll drive to a BDSM store I know.”

She paused in her chewing.

“A BDSM store? What for? You have a whole dungeon at your house.”

“Right. But there’s hardly anything at your place. I want to stock up some things here, so that we can work when I come over here.”

She swallowed the meatball.

“I understand. What things do you plan to buy?”

“Now now, Rita! Let that be a surprise. You’ll find out when we get there. I’ll buy some stuff I want to use, and if anything catches your interest, we can buy that too.”

She smiled, seemingly satisfied with this arrangement. But several times over the course of the meal, she persisted in trying to make me reveal what instruments I planned to buy from the store. I played along with her, never revealing anything, and giving her smart tweaks on her nipple when she became too persistent.

Dinner was over, and Aunt Rita cleared away the plates. When she returned, I asked her for some ice cream, which she served in a bowl.

“Come, Rita, sit across my lap.”

She was surprised at first, then giggled and perched herself on my lap. I took the ice cream bowl from her hand and fed her a spoonful. As she savored it, I pressed the ice cold spoon over one of her nipples. She gasped and shuddered from the sensation, and then smiled and pressed her cheek against mine.

“They always get such a lot of attention when you’re here, you know.”

“You know, I think they want some ice cream too.”

Before she could react, I had laid two dollops of ice cream on each of her breasts, and I held her still as they rolled down towards her nipples. When they were close, I leaned forward and began to lick them off her breasts, giving her nipples a good sucking in the process. I felt the muscles of her back tense up, and when I had finished nibbling at her nipples, she clasped my head to her cleavage and stroked my hair affectionately.

“Master, I love you. I love what you do to me.”

“I love you too, Rita.”

Dinner was over. It was eleven o’ clock. I wanted to be among the first to visit the bondage store the next morning, to get the complete attention of the store aids, and it was time to retire for the night. I wished Aunt Rita good night and then walked to her spare bedroom which I used when I was visiting her. I reached for the doorknob when I felt Rita clasp me from behind. I could feel her breasts pushing against my back.

“Master,” she said in a soft voice, “Please share my bedroom for tonight.”

I turned around. She had never made this request before.

“Are you sure, Rita?”

“Yes, Master.” she rested her head on my chest. “I want you to.”

“Very well” I said.

She led me by the hand to her bedroom, and I lay down on her large bed. It was quite comfortable, and the pillow was just right. Aunt Rita brushed her hair, and then lay down beside me and pulled the comforter over our bodies.

Chapter Six:

I woke up, my eyes drifting to the clock on the wall. Seven o’ clock.  I wanted to get to the BDSM store right after they opened, which meant that we needed to get a move on. I looked to my side at Aunt Rita. She was lying on her back, sleeping peacefully, her hands over her stomach, her beautiful breasts heaving as she breathed. Her nipples, after all the attention they had received at night and during the evening, were happily flaccid. I leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Come on, Rita. Wake up. We have to go soon.”

She moaned, turned her head towards me and smiled.

“Come on. Up. I’m going to the bathroom. When I come out, I want to see you on your feet.

When I did indeed come back, I found her lying on her back, this time with her hands behind her head, and both her nipples stood forth proudly from their areolas. I smiled, understanding what had happened. I went and sat down next to her on the bed.

“So, my Aunt Rita is in need of some nipple stimulation to get up in the morning, eh?”

She giggled, and nodded, her eyes still shut.

I took her nipples in between my fingers and began to roll them around. She moaned and breathed in sharply. Her hands moved from behind her head, and she slid the pillow from under her head to under her back, making her breasts stand out even more. She moved her hands back, not behind her head, but straight back to grasp the bedrails, an indication that she wanted more forceful stimulation.

I pinched her nipples with my fingers. She shrieked in ecstasy.

“Come on, you naughty old girl. Get up. Up.”

She thrashed her head in refusal. I began to flick her nipples hard with my fingernails.

“Aaahhhh…” she yelled.

“Come on. Up!”

She still refused. I grabbed her nipples and twisted them as far as they would go. She arched her back off the bed trying to ease the pain. I held the pressure on her nipples.

“Willing to get up now, Rita?” I asked.

She bit her lower lip and shook her head, this time to say yes.

I released my hold on her nipples, and as she gasped at the easing of the sensation, I helped her to a sitting position on the bed. She yawned and breathed in deeply, and I brushed her breasts lightly with the palm of my hand, eliciting another moan of pleasure as my fingers gently caressed her rudely awakened nipples.

“Come on. Go to the bathroom. Get ready.”

“Can I put my panties on?”

“No. Not until we’re done with breakfast.”

Rita went into the bathroom, while I prepared a quick breakfast for us before we left. I sat down at the table, and shortly thereafter, Rita walked into the room, stark naked, her face fresh from the water she had splashed onto it.

I gestured to her to come and sit on my lap. She giggled, and then walked over and sat down gingerly. I draped my arms around her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Casually, I picked up a knife from the table and brought it close to her body. She shuddered and recoiled, and had I not had my other hand around her back, she might have fallen off my lap.

“Wh-what are you doing with that knife?”

“You made it clear a couple of minutes ago that you wanted some strong nipple stimulation.”

“Yes, Master, but with your fingers…”

“You see, that’s one of the advantages of being the Master. I get to choose the instruments that I use to give pleasure to my slaves.”

She whined as I brought the knife close to her breasts, and her body broke into goosebumps as I stroked them with the flat of the knife.

“Are you scared, Rita?” I asked, poking her right areola with the tip of the knife. She gasped.

“Ow! Yes, Master.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got a knife and you’re poking my breasts with it. Ow!”. Her other areola felt the prick.

I began to flick her left nipple with the blade of the knife. She stiffened and gasped, her eyes filled with fright.

“Master, please…I’m so scared.”

“Scared of what? Me?”

“Scared, because I’ve never had a knife run over my (gasp) Aaah!!! Aaahhh!!!! Master!!”

She sat on my lap trembling as I held the knife to her breast, its sharp tip probing ever so ominously onto the tip of her nipple.

“Are you scared of me?”

“No, Master. I love you. I trust you.”

“Good. Let me test your trust.”

I began to slide the knife down her stomach, tracing a circle around her belly-button. She whimpered as she felt it move below her navel.

“Master…” she moaned.

I moved the tip of the knife to a point just above her clitoris. She sat totally rigid on my lap, afraid to move a muscle. I touched the tip of the knife to her clitoris. She sat petrified, afraid to even tremble, her eyes looking straight into mine. I probed slightly with the tip of the knife. Aunt Rita gasped. A younger or less experienced woman would have let go right then, but orgasm control was one of the first things I had taught Rita, and by clenching the proper muscles, she held on.

“Ah, I see you’re applying the lessons I taught you. Let’s see how well you learnt them.”

I slid the knife menacingly over her clitoris, probing it at just the right spots.

“AaaahhhH!!!! Master, please. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“You’d better not let go Rita. If you spoil my pants, I’ll be very angry.”

With the threat pressed home, I slid the knife across her vagina lips. She was trembling now, and I knew that she meant it when she said she couldn’t hold on much longer. Fortunately, I knew better than she did just how long she could hold on, and when it was almost time, I helped her hop off my lap and onto her feet. There she came in a torrent of fluids, moaning as the waves of pleasure rushed through her body. I beckoned to her to approach me, and when she did, I rewarded her with a kiss to the nipple I had tormented with the knife.

“Go on. Take a quick shower and then get dressed. We want to get there nice and early.”

She was ready in just over fifteen minutes. She wore blue jeans and a loose-fitting white top. She smiled at me as she emerged from her room to put on her shoes. I gave her a peck on the cheek and a slap on the rump and led her out of the house to my car.

A note to my readers: Dear readers, thank you for your time and attention in reading my stories.  I would greatly appreciate it if I could have your feedback regarding the story, the path it has taken so far, and the character development till this point. Unlike my previous stories, I would like to use your inputs as well to shape this one. Feel free to email me regarding the direction you would like the story to take from here on. I look forward to your suggestions. - Davatorian

Chapter Seven:

We reached the store just as it was about to open. This was my favorite time to shop. There were rarely any other customers and I could go about my shopping in peace. I led Aunt Rita by the hand through the entrance. Once inside, I saw her gasp and gape in astonishment at aisle after aisle of paraphernalia.

“Go on, get us a trolley. We’re going to pick up a lot of things.”

Still looking around in astonishment, she fetched a trolley and stood in front of me with it. I pointed her in a particular direction and walked behind her, my hands resting on her hips. Aunt Rita looked up to read the sign above the aisle we were about to enter.

“CANES”

She looked back at me and smiled, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I guided her into the aisle. I put my arm around her shoulder and walked along the aisle.

“Tell me, Rita, what do you see here?”

“Canes, Master. Lots and lots of canes.”

“Any ones that you fancy in particular?”

“They all look equally threatening to me, Master.” she giggled.

I picked up a cane from its stand. It was a rattan cane, about three feet long, with a short black leather handle. The surface was smooth and the tip was squared. I handed it to Aunt Rita.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

She slid her fingers along the cane and felt the tip gingerly, before handing it back to me.

“I – I don’t know. It’s just a cane, I guess.”

I smiled and took the cane from her. Holding it by the handle, I slid the tip along her neck and the exposed part of her shoulder. She broke into goosebumps and checked around her to see if anyone was watching. The store was empty.

“You went to a girls’ boarding school, didn’t you?” I asked, tapping the cane slightly on one of her neck warts. She shuddered slightly, and then nodded. I slid the cane down along her chest, and then lightly over her clothed breasts.

“Did you ever get caned by your teachers there for being naughty?”

She giggled and nodded in the affirmative.

“Well, this is the type of cane they would have used.” I said, probing slightly at where I thought her nipples would be. She jolted back slightly, and her nipples became aroused and pushed against her top. I threw the cane into the trolley, our first selection, and then put my arms around Rita and pulled her close to me. I felt her body against mine, her erect nipples pushing against my ribs.

“My Aunt Rita’s not wearing a bra right now, is she?”

Her face blushed slightly. She nodded her head. No, she wasn’t.

“And why, may I ask, is that?” I asked, tilting her face up towards mine.

She looked at me with a smile on her face, and then standing up on tiptoe, she put her arms around my neck and whispered into my ear.

“Because I want my Master to be able to feel my nipples easily if he wants to, in case he wants to reward them…or punish them…or play with them” she moved her breasts from side to side across my chest as she spoke, and I felt my manhood harden. “My Master’s given me more pleasure over the last three quarters of a day than I’ve had in the last couple of months. And I want to let him know that my whole body is at his disposal.”

I took her face in my palms and kissed her firmly on her lips.

“You’ve just earned yourself a reward, Rita. Remind me to give it to you later tonight, okay? Now come on. We need to buy some more canes.”

I walked her over to another collection, and picked up a second cane. It was slightly longer than the first one, with an octagonal cross-section, and a leather-wrapped tip with metal studs. I handed it to Rita to see what her reaction would be. She ran her fingers over the edges of the cane, and felt the metal studs at its tip. Then she looked up at me and said,

“This one’s different from the first one. What are these metal pieces at the end for?”

“To make things…how shall I put it…a bit more exciting” I replied.

Aunt Rita looked at the cane again, and I saw her bite her lower lip slightly at the thought of receiving a caning with the cane. I smiled and tossed the second cane into the trolley. I put my arm around her shoulder, and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Come on Rita. Let’s go to another section and pick up some more things.”

I led her to another aisle. I noticed her look up and read the sign above the aisle.

“RIDING CROPS”

“What are riding crops?”, Aunt Rita asked me.

“They’re used to control horses.”

“You’re going to torture me with something used to hit horses?”

“That’s the general idea.” I answered, my answer being met with a whimper.

I picked up a three foot long riding crop which was jet black in color. The handle was covered in leather and made for a very comfortable grip. The stiff but flexible shaft terminated in a four inch long black leather tongue. I called for Rita to come near me, and then I traced the outline of her cheek with the tongue of the crop. I felt my manhood harden inside my pants, and could see Aunt Rita’s breathing get deeper as she swallowed.

Throwing the first riding crop into the cart, I moved along the aisle for a second one. I picked one that was similar in length to the first, except that it was dark brown in color instead of black. The shaft was slightly more flexible than that of the first, and both the shaft and the tongue had small metal studs embedded in them. I pulled Aunt Rita close to me, so that her breasts pressed lightly against my ribs, and stroked the junction between her neck and shoulder with the shaft of the riding crop. She immediately broke into goosebumps, and I felt her nipples harden and push against my chest. She blushed and tried to move away, but I held her close. She looked away, but I placed the tongue of the crop under her chin and guided her face towards me.

“Are you scared of me, Rita?”

“No, Master.”

“Do you trust me, Rita?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good girl. Now go put this in the cart.”

I then led Aunt Rita to the “WHIPS” section without telling her explicitly where we were headed. She read the sign above the aisle, whimpered and clutched on to me.

“Please, Master. Must we buy whips?”

I knew that Aunt Rita had a psychological fear of whips but I didn’t know where her fear originated from (Readers, read “Rita’s One Mistake”). I had never given her a severe whipping, just a few light playful strokes on her body with a soft whip. But even then she would get terrified just at the mere sight of a whip. I had trained her to be able to endure a moderately harsh caning on her body, but she would scream and beg for mercy if I so much as approached her with a whip. I had never questioned her deeply regarding this phobia, nor had I tried to force the answer out of her through coercion. But now I resolved to learn the answer to this question before the weekend came to an end.

“Master, must we?” Aunt Rita repeated her question, her eyes wide with terror, a pleading tone in her voice.

I put my arms around her waist and massaged the small of her back.

“Yes, Rita. No dungeon is complete without whips. You know that.”

She looked at the seemingly endless aisles with whips of various types and sizes hanging in menacing shapes. I knew she would try to dissuade me from buying whips, but I wanted to see what logic she would come up with.

“But they’re so long. With all the furniture in the house, how will you be able to swing them? You’ll hit something or the other.”

I smiled inside of me. On the outside, I looked into her eyes and replied.

“I will buy two whips. And both will have short straps. They will not hit anything else, just your body.”

She shuddered as the last few words sank into her. Her attempt at logic now gave way to outright pleas for mercy. I felt along the front of her top until I came upon the bump of her left areola. Locating her left nipple, I took it between my fingers, squeezed it hard and twisted it upwards. Aunt Rita yelped and threw her head back in pain. Her body shuddered from the pain shooting through her mammaries.

“What is slavegirl’s primary function?” I asked her.

Aunt Rita looked into my eyes, her face flushed with pain, her mind racing through her training almost as fast as the fire racing through her breast

“To – to obey her Master. Aaaahhhh!!!!”

“What is the nature of her obedience?” I asked, twisting her nipple a bit further.

“Oooooooohhhhh!!!! Unconditional, Master.”

“Will slave Rita obey her Master unconditionally?”

“Yes, Master. She will. She promises to, Master.”

I released my hold on her nipple. She let out another wail as the blood rushed back into her hard-as-acorns nipple. I took her entire left breast in my hand and massaged it gently, and Aunt Rita’s features now showed a sense of relief after the fiendish agony a few moments ago.

I led her into the aisle. I already knew exactly what whips I wanted. I picked up a black cat-o’-nine-tails. It had relatively short straps, but a nice leathery feel to it. I pulled the straps tight, swung the whip a few times through the air, and then draped it around Aunt Rita’s shoulders. She shuddered at the feel of the leather against her skin, and looking at her face, I saw that she had broken into a sweat. I rubbed her nipples gently to reassure her, and picked up a second whip. It had a single strap, about a meter in length, attached to a flexible wooden handle, ideal for use in a confined space. I swung the whip, and the tip of the strap gave a crack that echoed down the aisle, immediately followed by a whimper from Aunt Rita. I draped the second whip around her neck.

“Go on. Put those in the cart.”

She obeyed in silence. When she returned, I took her in my arms, stroked her hair and looked into her eyes.

“Next, we’re going to the surprise section.”

Aunt Rita, like most other women, loved surprises, and her face, full of anxiety a moment ago, lit up with excitement.

“What’s that Master?”

“Well, up to this moment, you saw exactly what I bought. There’s no surprise element in that. That’s why we’re going to the surprise section.”

We walked towards the far aisles. Aunt Rita walked to the left of me, pushing the cart along. My arm was around her body, my fingers gently stroking the side of her left breast, a continuation of the massage to alleviate the pain from the nipple torment I had caused her a few minutes ago.

We entered the surprise section, a collection of aisles where all the items were packed in plain white boxes. No labels, no names, no description, just an abbreviated sequence of alphabets on the side of each box. Each alphabetic sequence was a code for a particular item, codes that I could recall from memory, but which Aunt Rita had no clue about.

“How can you tell what you’re buying?”

I pointed to the codes, and then to my head.

“But I don’t know what they are!” Aunt Rita complained.

“If you did, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise would it?” I said, pinching her breast softly between my fingers and eliciting a giggle.

I started from one end of the aisle, picking up boxes, checking their codes and handing them over to Aunt Rita, who deposited them in the cart.

NCCP: Nipple clamps, clothespin type

NCT: Nipple clamps, tweezer-type

NCCL: Nipple clamps, clover-type

NCC: Nipple clamps, C-type

NCCLW: Nipple clamps, clover-type with weights

NCAC: Nipple clamps, alligator-type with chain

VNCAE: Vibrating nipple clamps, alligator-type, electro

“Master, how many surprises am I going to get?” Aunt Rita asked in astonishment.

“Actually, quite a few more.” I replied, walking to the next section. “Here, take these.”

WW: Wartenberg wheel

BMO: Breast massage oil

HWTS: Hot wax torture set

IR: Interrogation rope

SG: Studded glove

PB: Pain bra

EB: Electric baton

GPV: General purpose vibrator

LIT: Lactation inducing tablets

PNET: Prolonged nipple erection tablets

MST: Mammary sensitization tablets

“There, Rita. That’s the lot.”

I looked at her as she put the last few boxes into the almost overflowing cart.

“Master, you sure have big plans for me over the rest of the weekend.” Rita joked.

I gave her a kiss on her neck and led her towards the check-out counter. It took some time loading all the equipment into the trunk of my car, but finally I was in the driver’s seat, and Aunt Rita buckled herself into the passenger’s seat next to me. I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back.

“I didn’t hurt your nipple too much, did I Rita?” I asked, flicking her left nipple with my fingers over her clothing.

She fidgeted slightly, but then relaxed and nodded her head to say no.

“You know, you have very sensitive nipples for a woman your age, Rita. But even then you withstood my pinch very well. I know for a fact that many younger women would simply have passed out.”

She giggled.

“What would you have done if I had passed out in your arms?”

“Simple,” I said, passing my fingers to her right nipple and flicking it, in turn, “I would have squeezed your other nipple till you came to again.”

Aunt Rita blushed, and then burst out into laughter, as did I. She leaned over to me and gave me a firm kiss on my cheek.

“I love being your slave, Master. I just love it.”

“You’re a wonderful slave to have for any Master, Rita.” I said, locking lips with her passionately.

We parted lips, and I started the engine and pulled away.

“We’re going to be home just in time for lunch, Rita. You’d better make something nice, I’m pretty hungry. And once we’re done with lunch, we can gradually get started with all the stuff we bought today.”

She took my hand and placed in on her pants, over her vagina.

“Yes Master. With pleasure.”

A note to my readers: Dear readers, thank you for your time and attention in reading my stories.  I would greatly appreciate it if I could have your feedback regarding the story, the path it has taken so far, and the character development till this point. Unlike my previous stories, I would like to use your inputs as well to shape this one. Feel free to email me regarding the direction you would like the story to take from here on. I look forward to your suggestions. - Davatorian

Chapter Eight

When we reached Aunt Rita’s house, it was around noon, perfect time for lunch. It took us a while to carry all the shopping inside, and after we were done, we both sat down at the dinner table. Aunt Rita had broken into a sweat, and at my behest, she removed her top, and sat down at the table bare-breasted. I slid my hand across her perspiring bosom and rubbed her moist nipples. She breathed heavily.

“So, what’s for lunch, Rita?” I asked.

“Whatever you want, Master.” she replied.

“No, you get to choose.”

“How about chilly chicken in gravy with steamed rice?”

“Sounds delicious. But if it takes too long to prepare, I might miss you Rita. I have to give you some incentive to cook quickly.” I said with a smile.

She smiled too. She knew from experience that I was up to something, and her smile widened when I motioned to her to fetch one of the unlabeled boxes, the one with the code NCCP. I motioned to her to sit down on my lap, and once I had a hold of her, I opened the package. She gasped slightly as the wooden clothespins came into her view. I picked up one of them, and parted the jaws to allow her to see the serrated teeth. I stroked the peg across her breasts, and she broke into goosebumps. When I arrived at her left areola, I parted the jaws, and slowly, let them close around her nipple. She stiffened progressively as I gradually removed my grip from the peg, and when I let it go completely, she threw her head back and moaned as the teeth sank into her tender nipple. I picked up another peg and fixed it around her right nipple.

“How does that feel, Rita?” I asked her, flicking the pegs slightly with my fingers.

“Ouch!! Feels good, Master. Stings a bit.”

“I know Rita dear. Just a little something to remind you to prepare the food quickly so that your Master doesn’t miss you too much. Come on, give me a kiss before you go.”

I leaned back in my chair, and she tried to lean forward to reach my lips. As she did so, the clothespins came into contact with my chest, and twisted her clamped nipples to either side. She gasped and then moaned, but continued to close in until she was close enough to lock lips with me. We kissed passionately for a few minutes, my fingers massaging her areolas and gently tugging on the pegs to heighten her sensation. We parted lips, and I helped her to her feet and looked at her disappear into her kitchen. I picked up the newspaper and began to browse through it absentmindedly. My mind was more preoccupied with planning out the remaining one and a half days, and a means to make Aunt Rita reveal the reason for her fear of the whip.

Five minutes passed, and I could hear Aunt Rita humming to herself inside the kitchen. I felt myself growing restless, and walked over to where we had stacked the equipment. I picked up the box labeled NCT. I inspected the tweezer clamps , and then shoved them into my pocket. I walked over to the kitchen and stood behind Aunt Rita. She noticed me approaching and smiled at me.

“Started missing me already, Master?” she asked coyly.

“You could say that. Actually, I came to take those things off your nipples.”

“Already?” she asked, “It’s barely been five minutes.” she asked incredulously.

She turned towards me, and in one swift motion, I took the pegs in my hands and slid them off her tits. She stood still for a while, and then gasped and stiffened as the blood began to rush back into her nipples.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked her.

“Mmm…Yes, Master.”

“Then perhaps you’ll enjoy this one even more.”

I took the tweezer clamps out of my pockets? She looked at them and rolled her eyes.

“I knew it was too good to be true. I should have realized that you wouldn’t just come and remove the clamps unless I begged you to.  And what are those?”

“They’re called tweezer clamps. They’re one step above the ones that you had on just now. Here, hold up your breasts for me. “

She placed her palms beneath her breasts until the nipples looked at me. One by one, I slid the tweezer clamps into place, and tightened the ring half-way. I knew that if I advanced them all the way, she would begin to scream in pain. It wasn’t time for that yet.

“Aaahhhh!!! They’re tighter. God! Aaahhh!!!”

“How long till lunch is ready, Rita?”

“Another ten minutes Master.” she was still trying to adjust to the new clamps.

“I’ll be back in five to check on your progress.” I said, giving her a sharp kiss on her lips. She moaned softly.

I shuffled about the house, my mind still trying to plan out the remaining time that I would get to spend with Aunt Rita over the weekend. I removed the C-clamps from their box and put them into my pocket. I waited until five minutes had passed, and then re-entered the kitchen. I could smell the chicken and almost taste the curry.

“Back already, Master?”

“Yup. Missed you too much.”

I took up position behind her and gave her a hug from behind.

“Put your hands above your head and around my neck, Rita.”

A bit surprised, she obeyed.

“Good girl.” I kissed the wart on the right side of her neck.

With my fingers, I slid the rings until they were touching the beads of the tweezer clamps. I could feel Aunt Rita’s body stiffen sharply as the clamps pressed together harder at her nipples. When the rings were advanced all the way, she threw her head back and screamed.

“Aaaahhhhh!!! Master. Please!!!! Take them off!! Please!!! They hurt like hell!!!”

“Count till ten, Rita. Slowly.” I commanded.

“Oohh!! One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight – nine – ten! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!”

She thrashed her head from side to side as I slid the still-tightened clamps off her throbbing nipples and rolled them between my fingers.

“Which one did you like better, Rita?”

“Both of them hurt like crazy!” she exclaimed.

“Then I’m sure you’ll love this one.” I replied, taking the C-clamps out of my pocket.

She stared at them in astonishment.

“Another type of clamp? Nooo, please!!!” she pleaded with me.

I motioned to her to approach me, and still sulking, she toddled over to where I stood.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tighten the screws all the way, Rita dear.”

“Screws!!! Oh my god! It’s got screws. No, please!!!”

I tightened the screws till the jaws just touched her nipples on either side, and then gave each of the screws one full turn. Aunt Rita breathed in deeply. Another full turn.  She gasped. One more turn. She moaned in a complaining tone. Yet another turn. She screamed. A full turn backwards. She signed in relative relief. I released the clamps and they dropped down under their own weight, tugging her pulsating nipples down with them.

“Ouch!!! Ouch!!! Master, they’re heavy.”

“Yes, Rita. And I’m hungry.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and left the kitchen.

I cleared the dining table and poured two glasses of chilled beer. Presently Aunt Rita came out from the kitchen carrying the mouth-watering food, the C-clamps still bouncing on her breasts. She laid the food down on the table and then stood in front of me.

I unscrewed the clamps from her tits, and before she could react, I took the two glasses in my hands, and pressed their frosted sides onto her nipples.

“Mmmmmmm….Master….. Ohhh!!!!!..... Aahhhhhh!!!!” she moaned as her tormented nipples felt the freeze. I helped her into her chair and we started on our meal.

“How are your nipples, Rita?” I asked teasingly.

“Sore, to say the least.”

“They haven’t seen the least of it yet, Rita.” I chuckled.

“Please, Master,” she pleaded, “One torture at a time. Ooohhh!!” she moaned, rubbing her erect nipples with her left hand.

Once we had had our fill, Aunt Rita began to clear away the plates. When she had disappeared into the kitchen, I grabbed the packets labeled LIT, PNET and MST and popped a tablet of each into her still half-full glass of beer. The beer frizzled and the tablets were dissolved within seconds, as they were meant to be.  I shoved the tablet strips into my pocket just as Aunt Rita re-entered the dining room. We sat down on the sofa to finish our drink. I looked at Aunt Rita as she sipped the last dregs out of her glass. She had no clue about the tablets that she had ingested, but they would soon begin to do their work.

“How about a couple of hours of siesta before we start our evening session, Rita?”

She smiled, leaned forward and gave me a tight hug. We cuddled our way into her bedroom and she curled up and lay down with her head on my chest.  I smiled as her full breasts pushed against my ribs, and stroked her hair.

“You’re a good girl, Rita.”

“I love you, Master.”

“I love you too, Rita.”

We ebbed off to sleep.