THE PHONE CALL
It was an absolutely miserable night. Cold, wet. The phone like ice in my
hands and the numbers hard to see. The call itself was almost impossible to
make. I could barely breath. I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest,
hard. I'd prepared myself like Rob had taught me. I was as ready as I would
ever be, so I steeled myself and dialed the phone. A woman answered.
"Hello?"
"I'm calling about your ad in the Urban Times." I tried to keep my voice steady
and hoped that I succeeded somewhat.
"Do you have any experience?" [Does years of living inside the three ring
circus of my own mind, count as experience?] Probably not, so I recounted what
I did know.
"About six years ago I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing."
Humiliating to speak of this forbidden desire that kept me awake nights.
"Do you have any costumes?" [Costumes?] That was a new one on this naked
kneeling girl. I spoke the truth.
"No, I never needed any on my end." That was accurate enough. There was a
pause on her end of several seconds and I got the impression that I was on a
speakerphone. The tone had that weird wind-tunnel effect that those phones
have.
"I see. Can you describe yourself briefly?" I did. I'm average, normal height
and weight. Brown-hair, hazel-eyes. She seemed pleased by my description and I
heard a male voice in the background speaking.
"Have her come in."
"Can you come in on Monday?" Monday was bad for me. I had my real life on
Monday. Separate from this fantasy life.
"I'm sorry, I work." Another pause from her end.
"Oh, you have a job?" I was kind of puzzled. [Don't most people have jobs or
some way to make money?]
"This is not my real life." [Just a hobby.] Came the little voice again.
[God, what a smart-ass.] They were conferring in the background, but too low
for me to hear.
"Can you come by tonight?" Overdrive on my pulse. "We close in about an hour."
[Close?] Oh well, time for questions later. I agreed and got directions that I
repeated back to her. [Wouldn't do to knock on the wrong door now, would it?]
It was her last words to me that ran through my head on the way over like a time
loop. "Be ready for anything." I debated whether or not to even go.
My palms were wet and my breath came in short pants. I pulled the shreds of my
dignity together and prayed for some sort of guidance. It came from within me.
That little voice that I usually ignored.
`What do you have to lose?' That was it. I had nothing to lose. Nothing but
the empty, boring sterility of my waking world.
<<<<<>>>>>
I made it on the expressway in twenty minutes. I found a place to park on the
street. I was kind of surprised to find myself in a residential neighborhood
with an address in my hand. I found the right house. A three-story Victorian
in the Indian Village area. High-walls surrounding the property. A real nice
house actually. I sat in my car gripping the steering wheel. Mouth dry. Panic
circling my lungs. God, don't let me knock on the wrong door.
I took a deep breath and got out of my car. Walking up to the door and knocking
softly.
A woman answered it.
"Yes?" The voice from the phone, without the echo from the speaker. I cleared
my throat.
"I called a little while ago and you asked me to stop by." She smiled
pleasantly, moving to clear the doorway.
"Come on in." I did so. Noticing the foyer and hallway had been expertly
restored to their turn-of-the-century splendor. We walked towards a big oaken
door that she opened to reveal a study done in shades of cream and ivory. A real
fireplace graced the room, a leather sofa [ivory] before it. Cream plaster
walls with hunt prints. Bookshelves with titles that I recognized. The only
thing that looked out of the ordinary was the umbrella stand with riding crops
in it, instead of umbrellas. [About ten of them]
"My husband will be here in a moment." [husband?] I must have looked surprised,
because she said. "It helps to have both of us in the business." She smiled at
me, motioning me to sit down on the sofa. "This is how we make our living."
Pride shone through her every word. She checked the clock on the mantle.
"He'll be just finishing up." Very hard not to ask who, or what, he was
finishing up. I managed it.
She left me alone with my thoughts, going back out the door that we had entered
to the main hallway.
I wasn't sure what to do. How to sit even. [What would they want?] I was
nervous. I rolled my head and shook out my arms. Doing some deep breathing.
Saying to myself. "Grace and perfect obedience. Perfect silence and
flexibility." I'd just finished when I heard the door opening up behind me.
I didn't turn. I looked straight ahead. Hands on my knees. Hearing the slow
steady tread before me. A man's tread. He came to a stop before me. I glanced
up to about waist height and noted the black leather pants with studded boots.
He put out his hand.
"Hi, I'm Jon." I looked up into his face as I gripped his warm fingers.
Standing up from the couch as I did so. Business habit. [Carnegie Grad, you
know?]
"I'm Anne." Firm grip of my hand in his. He introduced his wife, Traci.
Inviting me to sit back down on the sofa. I was slightly uncomfortable. Unsure
of what he wanted of me. I knew that he was master here, but did not know their
protocols.
"So how did you hear about us?" I swallowed down the fear and answered
honestly.
"Your ad in the paper. I called from a pay phone." I had no idea why I
volunteered that little snippet of information to him.
"Why?" He asked directly. Face sincere. Intelligence in his dark-eyes. I
noticed that he was 35-40 with just a touch of gray in the dark hair at his
temples. Coupled with his commanding manner he was formidable.
"Because I was tired of vanilla, when I'd rather have rocky road." I wanted to
bite my tongue out, but they laughed. [Thank you, God.] She spoke.
"I've never heard it put quite like that before. I like it." She sat on the end
of the sofa and curled her legs under her body.
"You'd better tell her about us, Jon."
"You know about the code?" I nodded and the relief must have shown on my face.
A certain tension leaving me in a rush. The code was a set of rules. Rules
designed to set parameters and prevent accidents. I had hit gold, if they
abided by it when they played. I kept my cool.
"I did six years ago. Has it changed much?"
"Just a safe-sex clause. You don't object to condoms, do you?" Another tension
gone. I assured him that I believed in them one hundred percent. No one' is
touching my body without protection. "Are you a dominant or a submissive?"
This was the one question that I had been dreading. This was it. The moment
when I stated out loud for the first time what I really was. Who I was.
It was hard to get the words out around the congealing lump in my throat. Rob
had never made me say it. He just took it for granted that I was his. This man
wanted me to say it out loud. Express what I was craving. I had to force
myself to say it and even then it was barely a whisper when it came out of my
trembling lips.
"Submissive." I felt hot color crawling up my neck and over my face. My hands
clenched on my knees. Eyes down. I felt his presence as though he had just
suddenly appeared before me. His voice when he spoke again had changed. It had
hardened.
"If you are a submissive, then you are in nowhere near the proper position to be
addressing me." I didn't even hesitate. I dropped from the couch unto my knees
on the floor before him. Hands behind my neck and under my hair. Legs slightly
apart, eyes down. Thinking that if I did what I had done before and it was
properly respectful that maybe it would be acceptable. He asked me questions.
Rapid fire, trying to pin me to some kind of personal philosophy.
"Voice trained?"
"Yes Sir." I said, quickly.
"Sexual Orientation?"
"Heterosexual, Sir." Never ever tried it any other way. Why mess with what you
like?
"Have you ever been with a woman?"
"No Sir." I felt color creeping up my neck. He waited and I made myself
continue speaking, slowly. "Almost once, but I'm curious sir."
"Wait there." I felt them walk away by the changing in the air around me, then
snatches of the conversation they were having over in the other end of the room.
Never a whole sentence, just snippets. Words like- Willing, Nice Manners, Not
hard to train this one. Then I heard her say.
"Well, we didn't have anything else planned for the rest of the evening now that
Adam's taken the weekend off. We can ask." They whispered for a couple of
minutes, and then came back to where I was kneeling on the floor. "We could
really use a good submissive, honey." Nothing like being in demand.
I heard them talk about fees, contracts, costumes, and hardware. I thought I
was going to pass out it got so hard to breath there for a minute. My heart
hammering in my chest at much faster than it's normal rate. I was dazzled and
filled with a sudden sense of unreality. I heard one of them leave and one came
back over to stand in front of me.
"You can stand up." Traci, I did it, noting with some surprise that I was much
taller than she was. "We'd like you to stay for awhile as a trial. If we like
what we see, we'll include you with our regulars." I looked at her with
curiosity shining in my eyes. "We have a fully equipped dungeon. Whips,
chains, clamps. I do erotic body piercing. You will have an opportunity to pick
your safe-word, if you agree to stay. Once you agree to stay, if you ask to
leave it's considered an act of rebellion. If you use your safe- word to get
out of a non-painful situation. That too, is considered rebellion. If you
agree to stay we will consider you our property and use you as such." I asked
her a question that was important to my answer to them.
"Have you ever had an accident here where anyone got hurt? Really hurt?" She
smiled with a great deal of pride.
"No, We are more than careful here and have never had an accident with one of
our people. We are always near and always watching." I looked her straight in
the eye.
"Are you secure here? I cannot afford to have even a whisper of this get out.
It won't ruin me, but it would make my life much more difficult to live." She
looked at me seriously, as though I had handed her a loaded gun.
"This is the most discreet establishment in the city. We screen our guests very
carefully here. If you become one of our regulars here by the time you return
to us. We will know everything about you that is possible to know." I believed
her.
"I agree." I said it fast, so that I wouldn't balk.
"Okay, I'll take you someplace to prepare for the festivities." I blushed.
"I...umm. Already douched. Twice, both ways." She looked curiously interested
in what I said.
"Were you expecting?" I shook my head and sheepishly grinned down at her.
"No, Ma'am. I'm only human. I had a date with Mr. Michigan, later in the
night, if you know what I mean. I was planning on going home alone." She
laughed. Understanding full well what I was saying to her. She walked over to
a cabinet and got a blindfold.
"You will wear this until we get downstairs." I nodded. Traci went behind me
and buckled the blindfold carefully around my eyes, moving my hair out of the
way. "You'll be able to walk until we get there." That was okay with me. I
felt myself giving over to the slave way of thinking and knew that it was the
blindfold. Erotic darkness covering my senses with velvet night.
Nothing weakens your resolve like a blindfold. It softens you, robs you of
will. She took my hand and led me slowly out of the study. I followed her.
"Careful here." She said, guiding me a bit to the right of the corridor. She
had me stop, putting my hand on the railing to some steps. Telling me that
there were thirteen steps to the bottom. I went down, counting carefully. I
could smell leather and rubber with the darker smell of basement. Jon spoke.
"Bring her over here and strip her down. I want a good look at the
merchandise." I quickly felt hands on the laces of my shoes before they were
removed. Then my pants, pantyhose, shirt, bra and finally, my panties. I was
naked. Another layer of vulnerability exposed to sight. No more false veneer
of civilization. A hand took my elbow and led me forward.
"Spread your legs." Jon commanded me. I did it. His hand taking my wrist and
deftly securing it with a quick action to chains above me. Soft wrist cuffs
holding it upwards. He did my other wrist. The heat from his body warming the
front of me subtly. Body heat, very nice, especially in contrast with the
coolness of the room. Hint of danger as I gave up control of my limbs. Pulse
bounding.
I heard him walking around me, slowly. I took the chains in my fists and held on
tightly to their comforting solidity. I cocked my head trying to hear his motion
and felt the sharp sudden sting of a strap against the backs of my thighs,
surprising me, making me gasp at the unexpected delicious pain. It had been too
long. I was instantly ready.
"Head up, Anne."
"Yes, Sir." I said, around the lack of air in my chest. He put his hands on my
breasts and pinched the nipples lightly to make them hard. I sealed my lips
shut. The one thing that I had learned very early on about the game was that
the pleasure was never first. Tonight was to be no exception. I felt deft
fingers closing clamps over the tips of my nipples. Tightening them expertly to
the very threshold of pain. I fought to keep a groan inside myself. Sweat
breaking out to form a sheen on my skin. Hands patted my shoulders and the
added weight of the clamps on my nipples pulled maddeningly. I heard him step
back to survey his handy-work. Moving once again close to me to whisper into my
ear. Hand lightly traveling the curve of my buttock and upper thigh in a
lingering caress.
"Do you like Greek, little bottom? I do it very well." I shivered at the
thought and couldn't answer because my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak.
"Since you hesitate to answer my questions. I need to find no excuse to punish
you, Anne. You yourself have provided it."
"I'm sorry, sir. I beg forgiveness."
"Then answer my question."
"It's been so long that I am frightened." Truth was a scary thing. That was
also one of the few places that your virginity actually does grow back and, sad
to say, I had let it. I moved back into comforting ritual. "If it pleases you,
Sir."
He removed the blindfold and I looked around me for the first time at the
dungeon. It must be some unspoken S/M rule that these places are always in the
basement. I saw a large punishment cross in the corner. Several recessed
cabinets and large open spaces. In one corner there was a bar that Traci was
sitting at, sipping a tall glass of what looked like water. Jon drew my
attention back to him.
He put his large hands on my waist drawing my gaze back to the planes and angles
of his face. A roughly handsome face in a rugged sort of way. He smiled kindly
at me with teeth that looked very white and straight in the indirect lighting.
"When we break a rule. That rule is explained." His voice was matter of fact.
"You, as a slave, have no right to look me, as a Master, in the eye." I dropped
my gaze quickly from his eyes. "Correct but futile. We call this the Rule of
the Eye." I nodded. "Why will you be punished?"
"This slave has broken the Rule of the Eye. I looked you full in the face. I
beg your forgiveness and accept without question, your judgment." I watched his
hands kneading my hips. Hoping that what I had said was ritualized enough to
please him. Falling back into this foreign way of thinking more easily than I
had imagined that I would. Much more easily than a small part of me hoped.
"Very nicely put, Anne."
"Thank you, sir." I answered. Waiting for him to continue with his will.
"Tell us how your other Master had you act." I trembled then, burning with
humiliation so intense it was almost like pain. I took a breath and spoke the
words that Rob had taught me six years and a lifetime ago.
"I am a submissive. Forever and always beneath my Master or Mistress. I am to
be always graceful, willing and accepting of anything that the Master or
Mistress decides. I will be punished for three reasons; Your pleasure,
Infraction of the rules, or my Education. I am to show no preferences of any
kind. I am merely here to serve." I managed to get it all out without
stumbling over any of it. They seemed pleased with it.
"What was your safe-word?" Jon asked, flicking the clamps lightly in an effort
to distract me from his words. It almost worked too, but I forced myself to
focus on him and him alone. My body and my need, secondary.
"Blue, Sir." I gasped out as the gentle motion of the clamps hurt me slightly,
just enough to be almost luxurious. Traci went to a dry erase board in the
corner and wrote the word `Blue' under a legend that read; Language Of A
Quitter.
I practically winced at the thought. I wasn't going to say it now, unless I
absolutely had too. Never, ever. Not here at least, not tonight on my first
night.
"I will ask you some questions, Anne, so that our time together is fruitful to
both of us. There is severe punishment for lying to me and Traci will be taking
notes so that later down the road I can check your answers from tonight." He
paced in front of me. I kept my eyes down and forward. "What repels you?"
"Nothing really. I have not done very much. I have no interest in certain foul
bodily secretions. I have no idea, Sir." That was honest. How was I to know
what repelled me unless I actually did it?
He was studying me. Touching my arms lightly, my back. Putting his body near
enough to almost touch me, then drawing away. What was he trying to do?
"Ever been in a sling before?" A fisting sling? My body stiffened with terror.
"No, Sir. Never, Sir." I stammered with fear.
"This frightens you?" He showed some real interest at the thought that I might
truly be frightened of something. My heart trip-hammered. Surely he could hear
it.
"It is not my position to deny you, Sir." Traci said no accidents and I held
unto that thought like I was drowning.
"Would you have any objections to being pierced?" That was a trick question. I
had almost had it done a couple of years ago, just to see if I would like it,
but I chickened out.
"No, Sir." I answered quickly. "Anyplace but my clitoris, Sir. I wish to risk
no permanent damage to something that I am quite fond of in my own way." Jon
pressed his body suddenly against my back. His hand slipping into the moist
apex of my thighs, making me groan as he touched the small knot of feeling that
we had been discussing. Fingers firm. My sex, wet and starving.
"Quite the smart-ass, aren't we, Novice?"
"Yes, Sir." I had to fight to control my words around the rapid surge of fever
that flowed over me. It had been so long and he was so hot.
"Forgive me, Sir."
"You will come to know many exotic pleasures in my house, Anne. I am an
explorer of the sensual." I was beyond wet. I could feel it on my thighs-
thick, hot, moist. Smell the scent of arousal on the air like sweet perfume.
"I will take the time to know you better than you know yourself." I believed
him. "Your strengths, your weaknesses. I am always searching for new ways to
open your soul..." His fingers slid into my sex deftly. "To my touch." My legs
grew weak and I held tightly to the chains supporting me. His fingers feeding
the desire that was growing inside me to unbearable proportions. I moaned
against my will, softening all over as his fingers slid home. "I have traveled
the world learning how to torment and treasure. I know the Fist, The Greek and
the feel of slick tight cunt around my cock. I can safely take you beyond your
wildest fantasies." His voice was a mere breath of sound against my ear.
"Yes, please..." I begged, beyond shame. Hoping for. What? Orgasm?
Acceptance? I closed my eyes in misery. My spread legs aching terribly. My
head rolling into my arm, helplessly. I felt my heart in my throat. I ached
with desire. A throbbing, pulsing heat. I tried to speak, but bit it off
because I had not been spoken too. The last of rational thought in my head.
"Speak, Anne." He ordered, never ceasing the gentle motion between my legs.
This was so hard for me. I had never been very good at revealing secrets. Beat
me, but don't ask me why I want you too.
"I'm frightened of who I am, sir." Soft hands on my shoulders. Traci. The
tenderness more of a horrifying shock than the brutality. More painful, inside,
anyways.
"Why?" Jon asked, his voice sounding almost intrigued by what my reply would be.
"Answer me, and never, ever hesitate."
"I fear punishment as much as I crave it. I fear because it has been so long
and I am so hungry." Total honesty. Total submission. Letting light into the
darkness that was inside me. The darkness that was my sexuality. Savagely
suppressing the conservative voices of shame that told me this...wonderful
feeling would damn me for all time to the eternal pits of Hell. "I fear the loss
of control." The true crux of my problem. I felt tears then, filling my eyes
and captured by the edge of my lashes. "I am not supposed to enjoy..."
"You are bound." Traci said to reassure me. Attempting to ease the guilt that
flowed through me. "We are in control." I whispered the secret that I had kept
to myself so long that to reveal it was more intimate than the act of love
itself. My voice was low.
"I orgasm under the strap." Shame spilling the wetness from my eyes. Hands
stroking me from both sides. Jon's low laugh from behind me then his soothing
voice in my ear.
"It's very difficult for you, almost unbearable. The guilt. The shame of it
all. It burns your soul with searing intensity." I nodded. "Yet, even now you
have the power to absolve yourself. There is nothing wrong with you and nothing
wrong with us." I took a deep breath to regain control. His hands leaving my
shuddering body. "Prepare her for punishment."
"Yes, Jon." Traci answered him. Her hands falling from me as well. "Go with
it, Annie. We'll make it good for all of us." Flush of desire. Yearning for
this. Get the pain over with, so the pleasure could follow. Build my passion
to an unbearable level of heat and need. Set me free.
I set myself. Rational mind shut off. Dreading the next few minutes. No
matter how much you crave it or want it. The whippings, paddles and spankings
hurt, even when it absolves the guilt. Even when it makes the fire between your
legs burn white hot. Even when it teaches you about limits, or your own soul.
The bite of leather against flesh will eventually break you.
Traci stood in front of me with the blindfold in her hands.
"You will not see which one of us is instructing you tonight. Do you
understand?" Her tone was matter-of-fact.
"Yes, ma'am." I affirmed, keeping my eyes forward. The soft leather buckled
over my eyes and Jon asked me.
"Why will you be punished?" His tone was hard. The question direct. I
answered.
"I, a lowly novice, dared to look you in the eyes. Boldly and without humility."
I felt my arms lowered to the height of my waist. Hands on my shoulders pushing
me to my knees. I automatically kept my legs open while kneeling. When I was
set very solidly on my knees with no pull on my shoulders. Someone took the
bulk of my hair and laid it over my shoulder, smoothing it carefully. I
remained still, with my head forward.
The blindfold is an amazing device. It's surprisingly calming, yet every other
sense you possess comes completely awake. I felt air on the hair of my skin as
subtle shifts of pressure. My ears almost preternatural in their acuity.
It still took me by surprise. The first hard stroke across my buttocks. I
gasped, clutching at the chains with desperate fingers. The strap fell again
and again.
I sealed my lips shut and tried to maintain what was left of my dignity in
extremis. Whoever it was swinging the strap was a real expert. The blows were
evenly spaced, deliciously hard. Rapidly painful as the blood rushed to my
skin, sensitizing it. I called on reserves of self-control I didn't know I
possessed. My safe word a litany in my mind; `blue, blue, blue.' Yet still I
remained silent.
Silent even after the tears started to form in my eyes and wet the underside of
the blindfold. Quiet even after I felt myself breaking open inside. My head
back, body tensing with agonized passion. Orgasm threatening me with sudden
violent release. My own breath harsh in my ears. Thigh muscles set like stone
and trembling with strain. I never even realized the moment that they had
stopped. I struggled against the pain. Fought not to cum on my knees. My skin
slick with sweat. Hair damp and inarticulate animal moans coming from deep in
my chest.
"Easy now." Came a tender voice and gentle hands on the back of my neck. "Good
girl." I collapsed, unable to support my weight even on my knees. Pulling
great lungfuls of air into starved tissues. Feeling weak all over, soft.
The hands freed my wrists. Letting my arms fall limply to my knees. I felt a
collar being slipped around my neck. I pulled away and hands steadied my face.
Low voices telling me to be still, calm. Just a collar. Wide, but not too
tight. A chain snapped to it. The gentle tug to the right told me which
direction they wanted me to go in. I remained on my knees, trying to keep up
with normal steps. Feeling carpet under my knees. I ran into a low bench and
waited to be led.
"Climb up, lay on your back." Perfect obedience in my every gesture. I strove
to be graceful around the weakness in my limbs. The air perfumed with the scent
of sex from the warm fluids on my thighs. Need, a raw animal wanting, burning
through me.
They stretched my arms over my head and secured them. My ankles, as well.
"Why will you be punished?" I couldn't remember a reason other than the last
reason that I had given. My heart stopped and a spasm jerked my body. "One
crime, one punishment." He said.
"For my education, Sir, or your pleasure." Someone knelt between my legs and
hands touched my sex. Opening the hot, wet folds. Exploring the opening just a
little roughly, deliciously. Where was the pain? This wasn't pain. Long
fingers entering me gently, deftly.
I heard the soft sound of cellophane and the hard snap of rubber. A soft moan
escaped my lips. Two fingers, then three. Testing the width of my opening, my
resilience. Other fingers lifting the hard kernel of my clitoris and pinching it
mildly, tantalizing it, making it grow hard with demand.
A body moved between my legs. An organ rubbing up my cleft with the pull of dry
rubber slowing it down, making me moan through closed lips. Resting briefly at
the gate of my vagina. Hands rested at the sides of my face.
The cock started to slide home, into my tight well. Breaking through the
resistance of six years of celibacy with a thick wet scraping. Resting inside
me with all the time in the world to fuck me. The ache of dilated flesh
convulsing my cavern as it tried to expel the invading member.
The stiff cock started to move in an age-old rhythm. Rocking my sex. Deeply in,
almost out. Barely brushing the gate of my womb as the hard rhythmic thrusts
roughly worked me to climax.
My senses blazed. The inferno inside me coming quickly to critical mass. Hard
hands took my breasts, changing my focus from my sex to my breasts. Releasing
the clamps so the blood flowed into the deprived tips. Agony pushing me closer
to the pinnacle. I heard Jon's voice near my ear, low. Floating from behind me.
Confusing my senses.
"Traci fucks pretty good, doesn't she?" Overdrive. It wasn't him pumping me.
It was her. The Mistress expertly rocking my clitoris against my pubis in that
endless, relentless rhythm that my body knew so well.
"Yes, Sir." I gritted out between clenched teeth. `Don't cum. Not now.' I
told myself, rolling my head upon the bench under me. Fighting to restrain the
inevitable tide that would take me over the edge and into the abyss.
"Go ahead, orgasm. Traci is." I needed no more encouragement to let myself go.
Abandoning any attempt at self-control, I arched against the bonds holding me.
Widening my legs as far as I could get them in the bondage to deepen her access
to me. She pushed deeper and harder.
The orgasm swept over me and annihilated me. Rocking the very foundations of my
existence until my breath froze in my lungs. Heart beating as though trying to
escape my chest.
I cried out with it, moaning. Body twitching with sharp, violent jerks. Hands
on my flesh, but whose? Hers or his? I couldn't tell and truly didn't care.
Still she did not stop. Driving me higher to a new plane of sensual
gratification. I cried out, shrilly. The litany in my mind becoming tumult-
`No, don't stop this exquisite torment. I yield to you. I yield to you."
"I yield to you." I whispered. "I am yours." I whispered as the next series
of convulsions shook me. I went beyond thought into animal instinct. The point
where only one thing has any meaning. Sex, pleasure, the pain of touch.
Another orgasm swept me. Bigger, louder, more shattering to my body. Too much!
They had to stop. I could take no more of this unbearable pleasure. I tried to
free myself with uncontrollably frantic movements, but was unable too.
I felt a cock by my lips and took it hard into my throat. Arching my head back
to take all of it. Deeper into my shuddering mouth. Any distraction welcome to
my fevered mind. Forced to concentrate on what I was doing to his warm human
flesh. The pleasure became more manageable, all-encompassing. Almost fantasy
to me. Romance in chains. The organ pulled from my vagina, leaving it
clenching on emptiness. I longed to have my hands free. `Closer, master.
Deeper. Cum in me, please.' I could feel the tension in him. Taste salt-thick
fluid leaking from the tip of his organ like honey on my tongue. `Give it to me,
your slave. Favor me by this simple service to you.' My thoughts a menage of
ritual submissive surrender.
I felt him push harder and my hands were freed from their restraint. By
touching him I knew he faced Traci above me. Fucking my face without choking
me. I clutched his thighs as he quickened his pace. Shallowing slightly so he
could cum away from my mouth. Thinking that he wasn't going to let me taste his
release. I laughed and held fast. I was not some silly high school girl afraid
to taste of a man. Much less the essence of the Master.
My grip pushed him over the edge. He went absolutely rigid except for the sharp
uncoordinated motion of his hips. He groaned and hot fluid rolled over my
tongue. I swallowed and went to the very root of his organ. Feeling the
twitches and spurts against the back of my tongue. Tears rolling from my eyes
as I took him into me as far as I could. Devouring his release as though his
essence was the sum total of his power over me. I became the one in control,
because I had allowed him to have me.
I sighed when he left me, hands falling to the bench limply. Hearing him
breathing above me in a rapidly normalizing cadence. Someone was removing the
blindfold from my damp eyes. Wiping them with gentle fingers, touching my
gently swollen lips lightly. Ashamed of this surfeit of emotion, I turned away.
"I know why you cry." Jon's velvet voice in my ear. "You weep for your
innocence. Weep that you can no longer be content with what you consider
`normal.' You've gone too far for that." Maybe I had gone too far. Forging
the pain/pleasure link in bands of iron. "When you can consider yourself to be
a caring, normal person. Someone who merely needs a harder touch in love-play
than someone else. It won't be so hard for you to seek out what you need,
Anne." Would it really? Could I learn acceptance of myself? I wasn't sure I
could, but I wanted too. Desperately.
Laying on the bench, broken open and drained. I felt closer to normal than I
had in many years. Grateful to the people who had taken me where my body so
wretchedly wanted to go. I felt them undoing my ankles and hands helping me to
sit.
"Go with Traci. She'll take you someplace to shower and then we will need to
talk."
"Yes, sir."
"Call me Jon." I nodded at him, speaking slowly.
"Yes, sir." Then Traci led me out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.
