I walked into Goddess Bristol’s torture chamber and was impressed. Dark wood
and leather furniture and torture devices were everywhere. Soft music played
over hidden speakers, the carpet was thick and rich, and the very air smelled
of leather and perfume.
Goddess Bristol is a petite blond woman, very slight, almost a waif. Her are
blue, and today she wore black heels, stockings, and a vinyl dress. But she had
an inner ferocity and evil imagination that made up for any reduction in
In the chamber waiting for us was Goddess Mandrake. She is a black woman, tall
and thin, with skin like chocolate. She has long dreadlocks and wore a white
top and skirt, with hose and white boots.
“Are we ready?” she asked, and smiled. Just beyond her was my torture.
“He’s ready,” answered Goddess Bristol, and they began strapping me in…
Imagine a chair made if thick wood, and bolted to the floor. Now imagine a
man sitting in that chair. His ankles are strapped to the chair, legs spread
wide, as are his knees, waist, and chest. His wrists and arms are likewise
strapped into the chair, and a last thick strap goes around his neck so tight
that he can hardly move his head. A ball gag was thrust in his mouth, and
cinched tight. There is a small hole cut into the ball as an airway, which the
slave needs because the two Domme females are covering the lower part of his face
Just for fun, Goddess Mandrake closed his nostrils, making him gulp in air
thru the small hose. She squeezed and clapped with delight like a little girl,
laughing, and exclaimed,
“Do we have this man at our mercy or DO WE HAVE THIS MAN AT OUR MERCY!” and
“We sure do,” said Goddess Bristol. “Party time.”
She reached into my bag and removed three joints. Goddess Bristol lit one up,
Goddess Mandrake the other, and both started smoking, blowing the marijuana smoke
in my face. I “mmphed” for some, and a joint was placed into the hole of the
gag, and lit up. The slave smoked, exhaled thru his nose, and inhaled again.
“No, no, no, baby, you have to hold it in, like this,” said Goddess Mandrake,
and she closed his nose again! The slave bugged his eyes, and started to make
sounds, and wiggling his hands.
“Breath in,” she commanded, and the tip of the joint lit brighter as air
“Thaaaaaats better,” she laughed, and let him exhale.
Both Dommes repeated this process, yelling at the slave to smoke faster,amakng
him cough and sputter.
“i think he just needs the proper encouragement,” said Goddess Bristol. The
slave was stoned now, but he knew there was more in store for him.
“MMMMMMPH!” he exclaimed when he saw what she had: it was an old army gas
mask, and it fit his head snugly. He could not shake it off, and more tape was
added, covering the hole in the gag. His nose was his only way of breathing.
Goddess Bristol sat on his knee, and ran her nails over his body, his chest,
leaving long red rake marks. Goddess Mandrake sat on a chair and had her feet
tapping between his legs, teasing his erection but never satisfying it.
“Ready?” asked Bristol.
“Ready,” said Mandrake. They attached a small hose to the air intake of the gas
mask, and lit up two more joints from my bag. Each time the exhaled they
passed the hose to each other, and blew IN. And each time the slaves face was
blocked by a mask of white smoke. he frantically inhaled, more and more, and
when his face was clear thru the mask they flooded it with smoke again and
again and again…
Originally posted 2016-01-10 13:00:15.