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Sheila should have known I never lose a bet. I played cool when she boasted that no woman could ever make her submit, letting her dig herself all the way in. She thought she was the toughest, meanest, baddest mistress in the castle, and I was just as happy to let her think so, for the moment.
She fairly sneered when I proposed my wager. If she would come down to the dungeon with me for an hour. I would surrender myself to her completely afterward, if she still wanted me to. Once we were down stairs, safely locked in behind the barred doors, I simply did what I always do. I took command. I told her she would have to undress first. She was still sneering as she shed her leathers, though I could already detect the edge of nervousness. She pretended not mind when I fastened the slave collar snugly around her neck.
“So where do you want me?" she asked cockily, once she was naked. I pointed to the rack. She struck a defiant pose. That was fine. I know how to handle defiance. Before she could think to resist, I spun her around and went to work on her behind with the braided cat I wear on my belt.
Sheila tried to act tough, but it wasn't long before she was up on the rack, lying flat on her back, if for no other reason than to protect her bottom from further lashes. I knew it would be easy from here.
First. I locked the cuffs onto her wrists and ankles. Then, slowly, I turned the windlass, each ratcheting increment stretching her tighter and tighter. She moaned, then cried out as the unyielding chains increased the tension on her body, which, I had to admit, looked most appealing when displayed in this way. I asked if she was ready to accept my commands. She made a rude suggestion through clenched teeth. I shrugged, took the stiff riding crop in hand and went to work on her, laying stripes in rows across her tits, belly and thighs. Stretched as she was, she had to absorb each blow full force wherever it landed. She was a tough one, all right. But I’d seen plenty of those in my time. If the whip wouldn't break her, I would simply have to try something else. Sheila had nice, big nipples. I played with them while I pondered my next move. They got hard almost instantly.
Sensitive, I thought. Very sensitive. From the dungeon wall, I selected a particularly ferocious set of clamps held together by a short chain. I saw her swallow nervously as I brought them over. Her eyes followed me while I lowered a steel ring from a pulley over the rack. Positioning the ring over her cleavage, a threaded the clamps through it and attached them to her nips. She squealed at the pressure. When I started winching up the ring, pulling the chain taut, she tried desperately to arch her back, but the rack held her fast in its embrace.
When the tough ones break, they break all at once. In seconds. she was babbling out all kinds of wild offers and promises. I particularly like the part about being my slave for life. I looked at my watch. Fifty-five minutes exactly. Like I said, I never lose a bet.
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