I am a bondage and submission whore. You do not need to bind me to get me to bend to your ways, however. Most men in my life know I will always submit. They just like to tie me up and watch me suffer sometimes. Master is part owner in a bondage club. He has left his stake to me in his will. One day, I will own half of a BDSM club. That will help me financially when I am no longer working with him or maybe I get too old to do phone sex. I am an owned whore, but I have a very benevolent master. We love each other. And, if I had met him before he got married, no doubt I would be his wife. The problem was that I was only in diapers when he met his wife. He is over 20 years older than me. But he takes good care of his submissive whore. I can go to the club anytime I want. I do not need an escort because all the men at the club know me as the owner’s prized pony. That makes me coveted by many male patrons. I am allowed to let anyone of them use me if they do not cum inside me or leave any kinds of marks on my body other than rope burns. Hal understood the rules. He knew what was at stake if he violated any of them. Apparently, he did not care. He got escorted out of the club and banned for life. While we were in one of the sex rooms, he tied me up to a St. Andrew’s cross. There was some light flogging to start. But as he whipped me, I could see him getting aroused. He liked my pain a little too much and broke the skin. I was screaming for help because he wanted to tear all the flesh from my bones. Those were his words, not mine. The cavalry came and I ended up in the ER. To protect the club, and its owners, I never mentioned the club. I told the hospital that I was a bondage whore and a guy I met on Tinder got too rough with me. It is only a little white lie. Even as sore as I am today, I must protect my master and his interests as best as I can.
Bernice
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