Ms. smarty pants

There was a young submissive, we will call her Ms. Smarty Pants slave, who went to visit her favorite top. While there she met a friend of his, who was also a Top. The three went out and had a great evening talking, telling jokes, laughing, and then when they got back home, something interesting happened. The two tops conspired and decided to show Ms. Smarty pants slave that she was not as tough as she wondered she was so they asked her if she wanted to play with both at the same time. Being a rambunctious young slave she of course said yes. Getting through the details of playing and ground rules (you can do anything you want to me, just do not harm me permanently) were easy, and the two set about looking through their mutual toy bags.

The young adventurous sub went to the bathroom only to return to wicked grins. The bench in the corner had been turned into an interesting restrictive device and after having her remove her clothes and stand there shivering in the room with nerves, they tied her to it after putting cuffs on both her wrists and her ankles. They used some lovely white rope to attach her so that she could not wiggle too much and then made sure her arms and legs were spread wide. Both of them then took a crop in their hands and stood one on either side of her. Looking at her they asked her what her safe word was. She looked up at them and said, “Uncle.”

With that they started using their crops on the inside of her legs. The inside of her legs started to turn a very bright pink quickly… and the stinging of the crop tang started to get much louder in the room. Her legs kept trying to close but she could not close them and looking up into their eyes she did not safe word, or even think about it.

Small little rasping noises came out of her mouth and then the blows started coming a bit faster and a bit harder, so that they were almost biting at her skin. Rather than safe wording, she started to face the pain, even though she kept thinking, I can not take another moment of this I really can not oh my god I hate this why am I doing this oh god oh god I can not stand this oh please oh please.

The whimpers from her mouth became a bit more audible and they started chuckling back and forth and joking about her wanting them to stop but she just smiled to them and shook her head and went on with it.

A fine sweat covered her body quickly after that, and she could feel her body becoming soaked. Then suddenly a flush came over her and she felt herself hitting the next level with the endorphin rush. Her body trembling and wiggling and then an incredibly hard slap hit the inside of her thigh and she cried out.

Tears rolling down her face, she looked up at her friend the top and smiled at him and headed into the pain again. The feeling buzzed in her head and whined there and went on. The pain just ate away at her soul but she kept looking for the way to get to the top of it and face it all and not be a baby and wimp out.

Looking down she could see where her thighs were starting to turn black and blue under the pinkish reddish flush on them and that they were that way from knee to crotch. After that, the spanks started hitting under her arms, and along the tops of her thighs and her shoulders. She sobbed several times and whimpered.

One of them stopped because their arm had gotten tired and they just sat and looked at the other top still dishing it out. Our poor little slave girl was beside herself, not wanting to stop, but not wanting to go on. She was just lost in the space before the zone. Her body was really trying to go over the edge, but she was not making the connection and she searched and searched and it did not come.

She looked up at her friend the top and smiled at him. He bent down and kissed her and told her what a good girl she was being and how much she was making him proud. Then he bent and clipped a clothespin to her breast. She cried out as it bit into her and looked up at him, the zone so much closer now, because of the kiss.

Her body was so much wetter everywhere. The other top stood looking down at her and the clothespins. Then she smiled evilly and said, “Ooh, how many of those do we have?” Then they stopped cropping her inner legs.

Taking a rope they decided to thread them through the springs on the clothespins and make a zipper, which went from under one arm at the elbow to the other arm, with a total of fifty clothes pins. She was smiling up at them, while they looked down at her, petted her, and said, “We are going to do this together, are you ready for it?”

Panting, eyes slightly glazed she nodded, and each of them took an end and started counting and then they started to walk away from her, with the clothesline in hand, pulling steadily, and then clothes pins started to pull on her skin and she nearly felt like screaming the pain was so maddeningly sharp and intense and wild but decided to be tough and not scream no matter what.

So, 1, 2, 3, 4, 10, then 30, 40, 50 very quickly. They were all off her and she was panting. They looked at her and said, “Wow, so, tell us, not enough pain, not enough clothes pins, what?”

She had a chance to say wow it was too much but it actually was not because it still did not take her over that space and into the zone entirely. So she instead said, “Next time, do one hundred or more.”

So they asked her, “How are you hanging in there?”

She replied, “I’m good.”

They said, “Oh good, we have to turn you over and do your back now.”

Then they both laughed and untied her from the posts and undid her legs. She stood up on very wobbly legs. They handed her a bottle of water and she drank ever so deeply and gratefully. Trying to regain some composure and sense of where she was and why she did this again.

Looking under her arms, she discovered that the zipper had made these little bitty bruises. And that she was covered in them from one side of her at the elbow to the other at the elbow.

Looking at her watch, she realized that they had been playing for about two hours and that it was still really a long way to go if that was only her front. She looked up at her good friend the top and made a smart-ass opinion to him. He laughed and said, “We will see.”

What she had said was, “I can count all the strokes that you make and tell you when you reach one hundred and then you can’t do anymore.”

Leading her into the other room she found there was miraculously a post set up, to which they tied her face in, legs spread, standing on her high heels this time. They put a blindfold on her and both of them stood behind her. One with a crop, the other with a flogger. She started counting and as they got close to twenty, she said, “Twenty!”

The blows then came fast and furious so it was impossible to count them. Her mind was flying, her body was in this enthusiastic state of being unable to go on, then wanting it to continue just a bit more and she started shaking. Her heart was racing and her body shaking and her legs quivering.

Her friend the top kept changing what he was using on her, as the other top started using TWO crops on her. He started striking and setting up strange rhythms so she started sobbing and whimpering. He came closer to her as the other top made a remark that she could barely hear. So she asked, “What did she say?”

The other top replied, “I said, You could break toys on you little girl!” To which our Ms. Smarty pants nodded as if she understood totally what it was that the top was saying, because well she did.

The slave was in that wonderful zone now, mind gone, needing that constant pain input. Sobbing and hanging on the edge.

The slave’s Top friend leaned in and asked her, “Little girl do you want something? You are acting like you want something.” She shook her head and sobbed some more, body still hanging there.

He persisted asking her again, “I want to hear what you have to say, talk to me.”

The sub would often become unable to talk when playing because her mind would just totally go away, so she struggled to verbalize for them both. Strangely, this is what she said, “No, I don’t want anything.”

He laughed and said, “I bet that you do.”

She said “Well.”

To which her top friend laughed again. So she said in a tiny voice, “Please oh please oh please, don’t make me come.”

It was in such a little bitty tiny baby voice that it was almost impossible to hear her.

He heard her though and laughed aloud in delight. Turning to the other top, he said, “This is what it should be like every time, begging to NOT cum, because you want to hang on that edge.”

He made her beg, louder and louder until she was screaming it aloud “PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME CUM.”

Then he took his Tawse and really laid into her back, and she hung there, body shaking on the edge of orgasm and not going over, crying, sobbing, and wanting more.

Five Six, Seven times he struck her. Her body went up, up, up, up and hung right at the pinnacle of need. Then he came and rubbed her back and said, “How are you?”

She said, “I’m great.”

He came around and looked in her eyes and said, “I think you have had enough.” She shook her head but he insisted and took her down.

Her eyes were as big as saucers; his arms were exhausted, as were those of the other top.

Ms. Smarty pants did not know when enough was enough and she wanted more. She could not stop herself because she was so desperate to not cum and hang there forever. But he took her down and kept her safe, even from herself, because he loved her.