Humiliation – Day 2

Yesterday was horrific and rewarding. Reverend administered five enemas – each producing painful cramping and strong elimination. Well, four with painful cramping. The fifth wImage result for St.  Andrew's cross table bdsmas his own cum. My anus is still plugged with a metal plug which has an interal “bolt” that can be removed when I need to evacuate. The only time this has been out of me in the last 20 hours was when the Reverend replaced it with his own almighty cock. I have been strapped down to the X table for 20 hours now with a few breaks for exercise. The table can be wheeled around the ROOM or placed in a vertical or horizontal position. In order to curb my sassiness, I know this treatment is necessary and, in my heart of hearts, I yearn for the Reverend’s humiliation of my willfuness. Yesterday would have been enough to break even the strongest of submissives, but in truth, I need more. The Reverend now stands over me with a sharpie in hand. He writes the word CUNT on my stomach, BITCH on my right thigh, FUCKTOY on my left thigh. Soon, my entire body was covered in derogatory, insulting markings. “Do you disagree with any of these?” the Reverend asked and then read each word to me. I might have behaved like all of these words lately, but I’m not a liar. “No. I do not,” I must admit. He steps between my splayed legs and spins the metal plug. I know better than to complain. Yesterday I did that and had my pussy severely spanked. I bit my lip instead. He nodded his approval and slowly removed the plug. “Thank you,” I whispered. He paused, deciding if I had said that in truth or in an effort to gain mercy. Deciding that it was in truth (which it was), he nodded, the replaced the plug with his cock. I shuddered, but despite the discomfort, or perhaps because of it, I was near orgasm. He saw this and laughed. “Go ahead, you cumslut. Cum as much as you like,” he said. And I did. Waves of humiliated pleasure rocked my body as he fucked my anus and twisted my nipples. “Feel good?” he asked. “Yes!” I screamed. He pulled sharply on my nipples and I exploded again. He began grunting as well and I knew he was close. Suddenly, he pulled out and sprayed his hot seed across the words he had written, marking my skin with his own essence. When he was ready, he came to stand at my head and brushed the hair out of my face. He kissed me then walked away, up the stairs. I twisted, trying to see what he was doing. He never left me alone when I was bound!

“Welcome and thank you,” I heard him say.

OMG!!! People? Seriously? People who would see me in this filthy state? Now I started crying. I heard dthe Reverend’s footsteps coming back down the stairs followed by many, many more.

“My love, you will keep your eyes open,” he said to me sternly. I opened them and looked around to see myself surrounded by eight men, all with their cock in their hands. The Reverend lowered the X table until I was almost on the floor and said, “The ancient practice of Bakkara, my love, uses public shaming and humiliation to bring a truant wife back to order. These men have gratiously agree to assist me in this today. Each and every one of them will show their disdain for your behavior by jerking off and spraying your sullied body with their cum. Will you enjoy that?”

“No, Reverend. Please. Mercy,” I cried.

His reaction was instantateous. He slapped my tits hard. “No begging. You know better. Do not close your eyes. If you do, you will suck each and every man’s cock. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Reverend,” I answered, sobbing piteously.

An hour later, the men were enjoying a beer while their cum dried on my body. The Reverend had unbound me and I sat on the floor in the corner of the ROOM, miserable, humiliated, sticky, and content. Sometime during the raining of cum, I felt my hardness begin to crack. I had stared into the Reverend’s eyes and, in addition to shame, felt the heat and power of love and respect grow inside of me. Soon. Soon he will break me, then I can be whole again.

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