Art (Revisited)

“The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.” ~Lord Byron


The chair was set upon a large table. A throne of sort. Sir put me on display on the stage he’d set.

Leaning back pulled my wrists and leaning forward made my clover clamped nipples scream. Tilting my head forward drove the rigid posture collar into my clavicles and tilting back made the ball gag cut into the corners of my mouth. Arching my back pinched my clit between tight ropes and bending forward pulled the metal hook in my ass.

As I knelt there, each move was excruciatingly noticeable. My reactions caused chains of sensations. Sounds escaped me as I shifted, trying to find a reprieve from the various pains.

Sir watched, and waited.

My movements slowed. The first waves washed over me. Pains became pleasures. My sounds changed. I found my balance.

I stilled, and began to fly.

Finally Sir’s canvas was ready. Beautiful. Perfect. Ass arched out just so, rational thought erased. He growled evilly in my ear, and pulled out his new tools. Movement became inevitable.

He took great pleasure marking my flesh, cutting me, and playing music with my screams, sobs, & pleas until he was satisfied his masterpiece was completely destroyed.

Sir takes great pride in his art.

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

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