the life and musings of a kinky slut


~ erotica ~

His face was blank, cold. He worked quietly, except for the muted snap. He held the ribbon with one hand and lined up the medical staple gun with the other, making sure his aim was just so. He was creating art, cruel art, for his enjoyment.

This went on for what seemed like forever. Line up the ribbon, line up the staple gun, check his aim, and crack. Another piece of metal into my skin.

I tried not to move or make a sound. Tried not to meep or shriek. Tried to keep my breath from slipping into staccato. If I reacted, gave any indication, I knew two things would happen. One, he would be pleased that his torments were taking effect. And two, his treatment of my flesh would be worse. More art would adorn me. More pain inflicted. And his big flourish would be that much more to take in.

For it wasn’t just the pattern he created that thrilled him. It wasn’t just the zigzags or loops or whirls, the curves raised above my skin. No, it was the final pull, unzipping his zipper, that gave him his real thrill.

When he was finished with his work, he took a step back and admired his craft. A small, almost undetectable smirk, emerged on his face.

He set down the staple gun and slowly walked behind me. I felt his body next to mine. His crotch against ass. His chest against my shoulder blades. The musky smell of his cologne drifted into my nostrils.

Following the rules, I slid my arms behind him. Delicately gripped his ass. Lifted and exposed my chest. Propped up his art. Made my body ready for his fun. My head rested on his shoulder. I looked up at him for a few breaths before turning my head and closing my eyes.

He reached over my body and danced his fingertips along the pattern of metal. With every touch I had to keep myself from jumping. I could feel even the whisper of the air moving over my skin as his hands took in his work.

This was the most staples he’d ever put in me. And I knew there was only a few more breaths before the wave of pain and pleasure would arrive.


I inhaled. Gritted my teeth.


I felt him lift up on the ends of the ribbon, which he’d placed above each breast. The moment was about to happen.

But as he lifted, he didn’t jerk. Didn’t yank. Just lifted, pulled, harder and harder yes, but slowly. I felt my skin stretch as he raised me up, up. I felt my spine compress as I tried to rise with his hands. At a certain point, though, all I could do was hold still. Take in the sensation.


The first two staples at the ends of the ribbon released. I muffled a cry, but I knew he heard it anyway.

His hands remained high, pulling at the next pair of staples. Keeping my chest arched up towards the heavens.


The next two staples partially broke free of my skin. I felt the jerk of the ribbon on the next pair, and tried to quiet a shriek. I could feel the smile on his face, seeing me endure his torture.

He lifted the right side higher now. My chest contorted, trying to alleviate some of the pain.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Three more staples broke free. A tear for each slid down my cheeks. He bowed his head and lapped up the droplets.

The ribbon no longer crossed on itself, looking now like an angled number six.

“Fast or slow?”

He’d never given me a choice before. He’d never put this many staples in me before, either. Fifteen little pieces of metal in my body. Fifteen little glints reflecting the light he shone on my skin. Eight more still had to be released from my flesh. Now I would decide how that would happen.


Even in my pain, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be just a little bratty.

“Hmm,” he said. I heard the amusement in his utterance.

He relaxed his hold on the ribbon. I relaxed my chest back down.

He ran his left arm across my neck, lifting my head up. His right hand held one end of the ribbon.

He pulled.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

Each staple released as he jerked at the ribbon, jerked at my skin. My body reacted without my will. Staccato breaths on each pull. New tears on my face. Muffled weeps with each shock of pain. And finally, on the last staple, he held it. And held it. Just at the threshold of release.

“Beg me.”

“Please. Please. Please hurt me. Take it out of me. Relish in my pain.”

There was a split second where his grip relaxed. And then his arm swung out hard and the staple flew out of my skin. I screamed my pain. Cried into his arm.

He melted his body against mine. I felt his hard cock against my ass. He rubbed his cheek against my face and sighed his pleasure.

Even as I cried, my pussy throbbed from the pain and ecstasy of his art.

Categorised as: D/s | Erotica | Gen Fiction | Staples

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