Itâs told to assume standing waiting position in the bathroom.
It means to keep hands behind its back, ankles parallel to the floor. Legs apart, head bowed down. Back straight. No sound, no movement, no raising eyes is allowed.
Mistress takes a nipple clamps from the shelf and pinches the slaveâs nipples. The clamps are strong, the pain is severe.
The slave doesnât move.
The chain of the clamps is short, but it freely hangs out between its pathetic tits.
Mistress takes freshly prepared towel and pulls it behind the chain, hanging the towel on it. The towel is heavy, it chain down by its weight. The chain pulls the nipples down, making the pain worse.
The slave doesnât move. it keeps its mouth shut, otherwise it would cry out of pain.
Mistress closely inspects slaveâs reaction. When satisfied, she starts to put her clothes off. Naked, she stands in front of mirror and looks at herself.
She doesnât pay attention to the slave anymore. The slave is no different from the towel hanger anymore. Useful and convenient.
She looks at herself, when done she steps in the shower and turns on the water.
Master comes in, giggles, puts her clothes on the floor, steps over it and joins her. They merge into kiss, Master presses Mistress to the wall, they laugh together.
The towel hanger canât see much, it may not raise its eyes up. But their giggles transform into moans.
The towel hanger is focused on its role, the pain in its tits is almost unbearable. But good hanger doesnât make sounds. Good hanger doesnât whine. It does what it is designed to do. It holds a towel.
The hot water raises humidity in the bathroom. It becomes hot, the pain in nipples makes it worse. It sweats, but the discomfort is nothing compared to its purpose. To hold a towel.
Moans become louder, the towel hanger sees that the glass of the shower fogs up. Mistress cries out. Master whispers something, and the moans stop. Another giggle is heard.
The towel hanger is devoted to its glorious purpose. To be useful for these two beautiful women. To be useful the way they whim.
The pain is almost intolerable anymore, it has to bite its lips to keep serving. It helps a bit. It is all sweaty, but worse is below. It excites. The arousal usually is slow, but the pain and the whole situation speeds it up.
It doesnât know if its a sweat starts to tears down or its own juices.
It dies internally out of the hornyness, desperation, frustration and arousal. And the pain.
The pain is so severe, the towel hanger stops focusing on anything but the pain. The torture is extreme, but the towel hanger knows its place and its only purpose. To hold the towel of its Owners. The only purpose motivates it to hold.
Master and Mistress finish up eventually. The long long minutes changed the towel hanger, made it embrace its new role and privilege of being used.
The finally step out of the shower cabin, Mistress reaches to the towel and without any carefulness pulls it down.
The towel hanger before thought the pain was intolerable. Now it knows better. It grimaces in silent pain when the towel slips off the chain. Centimeters for centimeter, the towel pulls the chain, twisting it. And the chain pulls the nipples. It hurts as hell. Luckily and unfortunately at the same time the clamps grip is strong enough to handle such pull.
The soundless grimace of pain becomes a mask of the towel hangerâs face.
But the towel hanger knows better than to make noise. It knows Mistress hates when her objects make noises they arenât supposed to make.
Finally the towel is off, but the pain is not. The hanger closes its eyes, in silent suffering. Soon the pain calms down for a bit, returning to the level of being almost unbearable. The hanger realizes it stopped to breathe. So it forces itself, slowly, gently. Again, not making a noise.
Mistress and Master come out of the bathroom as they wipe themselves. They start chattering in the bedroom, the hanger canât hear them well. But it remains at its place. The pain pulsates in its tits, its body shakes, it tries to breathe deeply to manage the pain. Even if it helps, the difference is very subtle.
The light in the bathroom turns off, being controlled by the smart bulb. Once persons left the room it stopped track motion and the automation decided that humans arenât present anymore. It isnât wrong decision. The towel hanger is not a person.
Only after another few minutes Mistress looks into bathroom. The light turns on acknowledging the person in the room.
âFinish it up here, and we wait you at the kitchen. When done, you may take them offâ. She refers to the nipples clamps.
âYes, Maâam. Thank you, Maâamâ, it says.
When it starts to move, Mistress already disappears. She is not interested in watching how the bathroom is tidied up.
The slave quickly starts its routine. The tits are on fire, making it to do the job quickly.
Put Masterâs clothes in drawer. Hang out fresh towels on the wall hanger, ready to use. Wipe the glass of the cabinet from the fog and water. Wipe down the drops on the floor. Check if soup and shampoo supplies are still full. Open the door to make sure moisture would dry outâŠ
The checklist is extensive but it makes sure not to skip anything. The pain is harsh, but it will be nothing in comparison if it does the job in unsatisfactory manner.
When done, it is finally ready to free its nipples. It stands in front of mirror, looks at itself. And starts to unplug. No one is nearby, and it means it can stop holding its cries. It decides to do that quick. Simultaneously it squeezes the clasps, opening them. And quiet moan of pain is coming out its mouth. The pain is so sharp it darkens in its eyes. It whines, realizing the pain also resonates below its belly.
The way it wouldnât expect. The arousal is so strong almost as pain. It puts the chain of nipple clamps on the shelf. And hurries up to the kitchen.
