Eleven Quarters

“We’re going to do a challenge. If you succeed you will be beaten. If you fail, you will repeat the challenge until you succeed. Or die.”

No pressure at all then, huh? Nothing like a good mindfuck first thing in the morning…

“Now I need eleven quarters.”

I was confused. And worried.


Sir blindfolded and gagged me, then moved me to the wall of windows. He placed my hands on the glass. “Make sure your arms are in a comfortable position,” he commanded.

For what, I had no clue. The position seemed comfortable enough. I figured the cold flowing from my ‘view’ would break me first anyway.

His voice growled into my ear “I am going to place one quarter under each one of your fingers. You only have to hold them for fifteen minutes without dropping any. But if one quarter hits the floor, you will begin again. Any questions?”

I groaned. Eleven. Where would the last one go? And I knew this muscle failure trick. I knew I couldn’t make it. I managed a ball gagged “No Sir.”


He placed the quarters under each finger slowly, counting aloud cheerfully. “And number eleven is for your nose. Lean forward slut and put your nose on the wall.”

As he placed the final quarter between my nose and the frame of the french doors, I had a brief flashback to a sadistic drill instructor I had in boot camp. ‘Assume the pushup position.’ Oh god, I was going to fail. I had no doubt at all of that.

Sir twisted the knob on the kitchen timer, and the familiar ticking begin. He placed it very near. “Only fifteen minutes. You can do this.”

“No Sir. I can’t,” I thought. But I was going to try my best. I knew a few mind tricks myself. Even if I couldn’t make fifteen… I began to sink into my mind, breathing deeply. At least the cold wouldn’t be an issue anymore. My muscles would be on fire soon enough.


Sir walked about, inside and out. The sound of his boots on the old planks was distracting. Sometimes he was so close I could almost feel him. Other times it seemed he was gone a very long time. “You’re almost at five minutes slut. You’re doing very well.”

Almost five? I was hoping for ten. The pain was increasing, but so far the mind/breath control had been enough to control it.

“There. Five minutes now. I am quite impressed. Only ten more to go,” he growled as he brushed his fingers across my pussy.

I groaned. I writhed. I lost focus. The pain hit. Every muscle in my shoulders, arms, & fingers was on fire. I took a deep breath. I concentrated on the exhale, trying to regain the control I had lost.

Sir sat to nearby watch. By six minutes my arms were trembling. By seven minutes I started sobbing.

He said I could do this and I am going to fail. I can’t even feel my fingers anymore. Oh god the pain! He will be disappointed.

“As you always say, just breathe. You’re a very good girl. I love you.”

Sobbing is breathing. The other sounds that managed to escape were approaching screams. My body was trembling. I still tried forever, knowing any moment now the first quarter would fall.


“Ten minutes. I am so proud of you. Only five more to go.”

Pain is only in my mind, I thought. I’ve made it this far. But it didn’t help. My arms were simultaneously numb and on fire. The sound of quarters raining onto the floor was only seconds away. If I didn’t move I was going to hit the floor with them. He never said I couldn’t move. I just can’t let any fall. Using every last bit on concentration I had left, I pulled into the closest thing I could to the fetal position. The movement was slow, precise, and excruciating. I nearly lost quarters several times. Finally the relief washed over me. My breathing quieted. I flew. The timer went off. I would have remained there much longer.

“I enjoyed watching your body move,” Sir said as he removed the quarters one by one, purring other wonderful things into my ears. I could barely move. He helped me to the fire and offered me his chair.

I simply curled up on the floor and continued to fly.


“Now you have time to rest before your beating. I was going go to easy on you since I just beat you yesterday, but then you went and blew a welder in a warehouse bathroom. Without permission.”

But those are other stories… All that remained was my body. That was all he needed.






Sinful SundaySee who else is being sinful with me this week.

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