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Submissive phone sex means I am submissive to you. Actually, I am submissive to anyone and anything, even demons and other non entities. A few years ago, I was asleep in my bed, bound to the bed posts and gagged by my Master who would release me in the morning. Fast asleep; helpless. Yet I somehow awoke in a very dark place. It looked like my bedroom, but not my house. Was I dreaming or had I been kidnapped from my bedroom? I was trembling, scared. Had master arranged a midnight encounter? Then I felt something huge penetrate my ass. Something hot and very thick. I couldn’t see a thing, but I felt it. The same sensation hit me from the front. Huge, hot, spiked dildos is what I thought. Then I was lifted up in the air. How was Master doing this? Had he drugged me with something hallucinogenic?
I felt strong warm, really warm, arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly. So tightly, I thought I would I burst. I was clearly being double penetrated. But by who and where? I’m a good submissive fuck pig. I allowed whomever was molesting me to continue uninterrupted. The question was not who was fucking me but what. There were mirrors in the dark room. I saw my reflection and the red glow of a demon. Horns, razor sharp teeth, dragon like extremities, snake like skin. Was I in hell? Had I died? I wanted to scream, but I told myself this was some sort of nightmare or drug induced hallucination. If it wasn’t, surely it was staged by my Master. Perhaps an elaborate rape fantasy.
I was force fucked by Satan or his spawn for hours. The next thing I remember was waking up in my bed again, restrained like before. No one in sight. My pussy and ass filled with some gelatinous material, and gashes all over my body. And a pentagram branded on my inner thigh. I was the devil’s bitch too.
I have always been a submissive whore. I have had many masters over the years, some rather twisted, but I never complained. It is not my place to question what you do to me, only to serve you. Master Ted was an old school BDSM man. He had a fetish for old mental hospital restraints. Strait jackets, crib cages, facial jackets made of leather, and a slew of now illegal restraints. He had a special room that scared me to death. The old medical devices he collected were pretty much torture tools in modern society; archaic devices deemed cruel and illegal in the medicine world. He always threatened me with “the room” if I ever disobeyed him, but I never did.
One night however, he was drunk and feeling extra cruel, so he put me in “the room” for his own amusement. Not to break me. Not to punish me. Just to scare me. Just to get off at my torment. It was about fucking my mind, not breaking my spirit. I was and still am horribly afraid of being trapped in small places. Master Ted tossed me in his chamber of horrors. I was put in a straight jacket, tossed in the Utica Crib, where he bound my legs with old leather restraints and put a Texas Chainsaw Massacre looking facial restraint over my face. The face mask had chains on the inside that pulled my cheeks back forcing my mouth open. It was designed to prevent asylum patients from biting their tongues. But for me, it was meant for torture.
I was left bound, trapped and deprived of light for 48 hours. What I didn’t realize was that Master Ted was sitting in an old wheelchair most of the time with glee beating his cock as he listened to me whimper and cry, and watched me pee and shit myself. When he freed me, I was completely broken. I thought I was broke in before, but I never had been restrained that long in such a small space with no light and my mouth forced open an extended time like that. It was torture. I was dehydrated and confused. It really messed with me psychologically. The worst mind fuck a master has ever implemented on me before or since.
I guess my first mistake was letting that Master know my fears. Now that you know I am scared of being restrained in small dark areas, what would you do to me?