The Fifth Floor
by Diesel Devoid

The sheer exclusivity of the invitation was a coveted prize.

The Club was the trendy kind of place in the City that catered to the rich, the powerful and the famous faces of the moment. The kind of place superstars and young hopefuls set their proving grounds for style, image and the latest headline in the tabloids. The crowded dance floor with the DJ's booming club mix sent the younger, wilder generation in a hypnotic frenzy. It was a fashionable jungle of glitz and excess with animals definitely on the prowl.

Those that didn't want that kind of fervor or to be noticed, who wanted a bit of privacy for themselves and their entourage of artificial companions, hangers-on, agents and handlers retreated to ‘the third floor. Away from the crowds of fans and rabid paparazzi, these private rooms were their own $10,000 a night versions of Vegas; what went on in those private rooms, stayed there; and no one was the wiser. The binge drinking, the million-dollar brokered deals, the carousel of drugs, the $1000 prostitutes, the private rooms were highly in demand; a private playground for the men and women who could afford the excessive price.

Although I knew of the concealed goings on under the roof of the Club, I was privy to something even more clandestine: The Fifth Floor. It didn't matter who you were, how much money you had, who you knew, or how famous you were, entrance as well as invitations to The Fifth Floor were extremely restrictive. None were allowed unless invited by 'the owner' of the Club. Money didn't matter, social status didn't matter. Only individuals were carefully evaluated and few were ever sent invitations. I was one of those handful few.

I arrived at the Club a little after nine. Looking stylish in my tailored Armani black suit and dark blue shirt, no tie, to the crowd already there waiting in line to come in or to catch a sliver of their favorite movie star or musician, I must've looked like someone important coming out of the town car that chauffeured me here. And it came to that conclusion when the bouncer working the door, a 'trusted' security man who recognized me, welcomed me in without hesitation. He knew who I was and where I was going and didn't want me to be late.

Another 'trusted' bouncer met me inside and escorted me through the first floor, past the turmoil of the young people on the laser lighted and strobe flashed floor, past the huge encompassing center bar pushing the legal drugs for the evening, past the booths and mini bar tables for the lucky ones who occupied them, past all that to the bank of express elevators of the elite. The left one, guarded by a pair of expensive looking security guards, was only used with a 'chaperone', an employee of the Club who handled the 'private' rooms on the third floor. The right one, which was also guarded staunchly by a pair of ex-linebackers, was remotely controlled by someone monitoring, for this was the only way up to the fourth floor where the main offices for the Club were, as well as the security checkpoint was located for my intended destination.

Once the doors opened to the fourth floor, I was met by a concierge where my identification was certified and my membership to the Fifth Floor was confirmed. I couldn't help but think of the irony in the couple of minutes I was waiting. The power brokers on the third floor, not to mention the playboys and girls of the second floor thought their membership to the Club was exclusive with their dues ranging from $25K to nearly $250K a year. My membership to the Fifth Floor however was absolutely free. Not that I ever abused my position or status, but as this membership was indeed coveted and exclusive, I attended, and sometimes participated at these gatherings as often as I could.

Everything was in order by the concierge within three minutes. It never took very long. And though all of them knew I was a familiar face, security and the rules were enforced at all times; no exceptions. I was led by the 'trusted' concierge to the next elevator on the other side of the building, the one and only access to the fifth floor. This elevator only went in between those two floors and was again controlled by remote at the destined floor's security. As the doors closed and the lift started to ascend slowly, I was greeted by a prerecorded message coming through the elevator's speakers overhead. It was a message I had heard many times before.

In a faded Russian accent, it spoke: "Privacy and anonymity are our dictum. Safe, sane and consensual is our supreme directive. Violation will result in severe penalties. The Fifth Floor is an exclusive honor for those few elite. Please, enjoy your evening."

They needn't have warned me. Being properly educated and trained 'safe, sane and consensual' was indeed important in our practices. Those who didn't follow these rules were the undisciplined, who faltered in becoming proficient in the lifestyle. I, as a Master of several teachings and instructions, knew my control and had honed my discipline into local prominence, which lead me here tonight. Tonight, I was invited to the Fifth Floor for a BDSM gathering.


The 'Attendant' came to me a little after one o'clock, right after I had lunch. I hadn't met her previously, but then I was rarely greeted by the same 'Attendant'. She informed me only that there was an event tonight and I was to participate. The 'Attendant' then left without saying another word. Last time I went to an 'event', I was a servant, before that, I served as a fixture, as well as ornament months ago. But I was not told what I would be tonight. All I was told was to prepare in the usual manner and be ready to be picked up at five o'clock this afternoon. After leaving a message on friend's machine, canceling our previously made plans, I immediately got to work to prepare myself for tonight.

Although I had a shower this morning, I took another one, this time I carefully took the time to thoroughly wash all over, every crevice and crack, including my breasts, my pussy, my legs, my butt, every inch and limb. I took particular care in lathering up and rinsing my long hair properly as it had been considered by some men as my best feature. Of course, I knew it was mostly a line; from sly and overt glances, I knew men really liked my ample chest and curvy, yet firm butt. However, if they only knew the truth; that I loved them watching my naked body; that I loved to flaunt it. And though I grew my hair long for that luscious mane, below my eye line, there was no hair whatsoever anywhere on my body. That I loved to be bound, spanked and held firmly they would be turned on even more. It turned me on that I could turn men on; it made me smile as I lathered my hair up with shampoo again.

Out of the shower and drying off, I was getting ready at my vanity when I started to wonder what I was going to be in service tonight. As usual, I was going to be masked, blindfolded or even hooded the entire time. I never was otherwise, unless at the discretion of 'the owner' of the Club or whoever owned me for the evening. I remember one time when I was being prepared for the night, before I was masked, I was painted statue white all over my body as I was to stand as decoration for one party. I was to change poses from time to time, but was ordered to be frozen in place for the entire evening. At first I thought I wouldn't like it, but by the end of the night, I found it exhilarating. I found myself quite turned on by being on display like that, not only to mention the frequent pokes and prods by people to see if I was real (and the additional pokes and prods in very sensitive places after they found out I was real). Part of me wanted to be that way again tonight. I also thought of being a suspended fixture on the wall being held up by rope, which was purely for decorative purposes. That was fun as well, being held on one of the posts with the silken rope as the only thing holding me in place. Being a server had its perks as you were bound tightly with a serving tray tethered close to your body. You could see, but only through blinders to keep from bumping into people and tripping. You were led by an 'Attendant' on a leash. Each job had its pros and cons. Whatever I was to do though, I was still giddy with anticipation for tonight.

By the time my hair was dry , I put on my four inch heels and my required wrist and ankle cuffs and knelt by the door as I still had a half hour to wait. I resigned myself to meditate in preparation for tonight. Although, I felt like I was physically ready, it never hurt to be prepared mentally. The eagerness that had built up in me throughout the afternoon was still just underneath the surface. Concentrating on the meditation quelled the erotic feelings a little. It kept things calm so that I wouldn't peak too soon. It relaxed my giddiness, but not my enthusiasm for tonight.

The knock at the door broke me out of the spell I was in. I put on a robe and answered the door blindly. I knew it was five o'clock and the 'Attendants' were always prompt. Without a word, she came in and I cast my eyes down. As I closed the door, I took off my robe and knelt at her feet.

I was a proud submissive who lived to serve. Volunteering at the Club's Fifth Floor was a privilege and an honor for those in the lifestyle. I was proud to be a participant. I enjoyed being bound, being spanked, being whipped, being blindfolded, being held and cradled, but most of all in servitude to my Master or Mistress for the night. Be it 'the owner' or to another patron of the Fifth Floor, I was happily and willingly submitted my trust, my sexuality and myself to them with no question. I knew no harm would come to me; I was very sure of that.

"Do you submit yourself for tonight?" she asked.

Not raising my head, I answered, "Yes, Miss."

"Rise," she softly commanded and I complied. Even from my downward gaze, I saw she then unfolded a bundle of purple cloth and draped it on her arm. "Hands behind your back and turn around."

I obeyed. As I faced the door to my apartment, the 'Attendant' brought my wrists together. She took a padlock and locked them through the metal rings on my cuffs. After they were fastened taut, she then placed a cloak on my body. It felt like velvet, soft and fantastic on my bare clean skin. It was big enough so it would close on front down to my ankles to hide my nudity, but the thought that I was going to walk out into the City with nothing underneath excited me.

"You will not be harmed in anyway you do not consent. You will be kept safe at all times. And you will be kept in sane practices," she said reminding me of the Fifth Floor's policy on submissives and slaves. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss," I replied thoughtfully.

A brief moment of acknowledgement, she then commanded, "Face me, slave."

She emphasized the last word to make sure I knew my place and what my status was for the rest of the evening. I turned with my eyes still downcast. She crouched down and attached a short chain to my ankle cuffs. It couldn't have been more than eight inches. I would have to hobble with short steps, careful to keep my balance, careful not to trip, but be sure to keep up with the 'Attendant' as she walked.

Without so much a word she stood up straight and held out something in her hands to make sure I saw it: A hood. It didn't surprise me. I had always gone to the Fifth Floor blinded in some way. However, I saw that the hood would gag me with a snap-on gag, by the flaps that would close over my ears silencing my hearing, so I would be deprived of pretty much all my senses except for touch. And it was touch that gave me the greatest erotic sensation. Whoever owned me for the evening was to determine whether I stay blind, deaf and mute for the evening. Not that it mattered. I lived to serve. As I wished to be, I was a slave.

With silent compliance, I bowed slightly, keeping my balance and lowered my head to the 'Attendant'. She slipped the hood on. It was snug, but comfortable. She fixed it so my ears were at the flaps, a little of my hair was pulled through the opening in the back and my lower jaw was comfortable. She then put on the encompassing gag in my mouth and I felt the snap onto my hood.

Everything was dark and silent, and I was enjoying every minute of it.


In the inner foyer off the elevator doors on the Fifth Floor was yet another checkpoint. I've heard of this small room referred to by some members as ‘the vault’ as the main door to the inner chamber, guarded by another pair of ex-linebacker looking men, looked like a steel door to a bank vault, only smaller. A 'trusted' concierge met me and asked for my invitation. I handed it to her and she placed it on some kind of computer scanner. An acknowledgment computer beep later, she bowed slightly at me.

"Welcome, Sir," she said with reverence. "Enjoy your evening."

As I thanked her with a slight nod, I heard a slight thump coming from the steel door as it unlocked. Slowly it lurched open as the linebacker guards stepped aside. I gave them a nod of thanks as well as I passed them, but it looked as if their grimaces were permanently etched onto their faces.

As soon I walked into the room, I was immediately greeted by another 'Attendant', an employee of the Fifth Floor.

"Would you care for a drink, Sir?" she asked as she then indicated to the servant she had on her leash.

The young bound sub wore blinders and, except for a simple harness that left nothing to the imagination, was nude. The harness itself was merely leather straps that crisscrossed firmly at her midsection, around her waist and tethered over her shoulders to steadily hold up the tray of drinks she had in front of her. She couldn't hold them in the regular way like a waitress, because her arms were held in place bound squarely by the harness. So much so that she strained a little with her breasts sticking out as they did.

"A martini," I replied.

"Yes, Sir!" the 'Attendant' chirped as she searched through the assortment on the sub's tray.

Giving it to me, she then bowed slightly and then tugged on the leash she held. I hadn't noticed before but the little chain she held wasn't attached to the sub's collar, but to her breasts by way of what looked like tightly clipped nipple clamps. From the slight moan the tray sub gave through her ball gag, I assumed it was a firm tug to start moving again. The tray sub must've had a lot of practice as I assumed it took careful movements to walk without spilling the drinks on her tray. One wrong jostle and what a mess it would've made. Although there was a baroque chamber music being piped into the room, I could still hear the jingle of the ankle hobble chain the tray sub wore as she walked away with the 'Attendant'.

Sipping my drink, I looked around the room. The usual suspects were here from what I could tell. Thirty or so familiar faces, men and women, all Doms, formally dressed in $1000 suits like mine or in designer slinky dresses, who frequently attended these gatherings. I knew some of them, in and out of the Club. Meeting eyes with one, we raised our drinking glasses in silent greeting to each other. Not that we socialized much, but as who we were, being cordial was the norm.

The gathering was some kind of charity, as there was a treasure chest sub in the corner; a submissive tightly bound from head to toe with rope, with a cuffed donation box on her unbound hands. But it wasn't until I started wandering the room I realized what kind of charity event this was themed.

It was a slave auction.

I had been to many before. They were setup in various ways, but this one I found particularly interesting. The subs on the auction block were on display like pieces of art at an exhibition. Both men and women were posed in some way bound in a very artistic, elaborate kind of bondage. I started to peruse through the promenade of erotic living art. I thoroughly marveled at the quite imaginative presentations. Each sub on display had their lot numbers displayed on them prominently as many of the patrons were 'inspecting' the products carefully.

The first I came upon were a pair of subs in full pony gear, one male and one female. In addition to the standard pony harnesses they wore, they also wore elaborate multi-colored feathered headdresses with bit gags in their mouths and ornate jeweled blinders over their eyes. The ponies clopped their feet every so often and bobbed their heads as they whinnied playing the part flawlessly. The male pony was obviously sexually charged as he tried in vain to bump his groin into the female. His frustrated grunt sounded as blinded he didn't realize the pony girl had a chastity belt firmly on. Both were secure on a pole and were marked as they could be sold separately or as a pair.

There was a woman at another display, blindfolded of course, but also wore an open spider-web like harness of thick purple silk rope wrapped tightly on her body. Also, she was suspended in a Japanese style kind of suspension, a bit precarious looking, but she looked comfortable, despite having her legs wide open on display. There was another woman who was no more than a ball as she was in a fetal position, tied up in long straps of leather like a package.

The male subs were also displayed prominently as well. One man, a very muscular, tan bodybuilder type, was a favored one amongst the Dominatrix. He was oiled up, in nothing but a ripped loincloth that barely covered his groin and was chained down heavily with cuffs and a collar weighing heavy on him. He looked like it took some effort to remain standing as his muscles strained a bit, but to a man of his size it looked like no problem at all.

No doubt their preferences dictated the kind of bondage each sub's display. I found that rather comforting. After all, I was a firm believer in giving a sub whatever they wanted. Aesthetically pleasing, as well as arousing, all the displays were very well done and erotic. Looking at the female subs in their bondage was quite effective in stimulating me sexually. I even got caught up in the spirit of things as I found myself 'inspecting' the female merchandise, not as thoroughly as the other patrons, but more than just a glance and squeeze.

I looked at more of the 'lots' amused and getting ideas for the future, when I came to her. The display of 'lot 49', as she was marked, was very simple. She was on a cylindrical platform that had a rectangular metal frame holding her arms up. She knelt and had leather straps encircling each of her legs to make sure she stayed that way. Her hands were above her head cuffed at the wrists and were bound together, held to a chain that hung from the top of the metal frame. A velvet purple looking cloth was draped at her knees, not for comfort as she wasn't kneeling on it, but more for artistic sake. She was hooded, oblivious with sights or the sounds around her, but not to the patrons feeling up her body, closely scrutinizing her as she writhed slightly to the examination.

As I approached her, the patrons moved on to the next 'lot' for inspection. No on else was near her, which pleased me as I wanted to examine her discreetly. As I circled the platform, giving her nude body a good once over from top to bottom, she had her head down. It wasn't until I reached out and touched her she reacted to me. I started caressing her, first going down to her hips, then sliding up going up to her forcefully hoisted arms. Through her gag, she moaned slightly. I did this two more times, letting my hands deviate from their path and explore a little from her ass to her shoulders.

It wasn't until I started stroking her more intimate spots, she then really responded with her body undulating to my touch. First, I reached out and felt her stomach with one hand. She flinched. Not taking my hand from her bare skin, I then reached around to the small of her back, just above her ass crack. She flinched again as she blindly felt the nearness of me as I was inches from a true embrace. Tracing her spine up her body, she started to react as she arched her body following my movements. As I got to the middle of her shoulder blades, I slid my hand from her back to the front, where it joined my other as they started to cup her voluptuous breasts. Although they were big, at least a C cup from what I could judge from my handful, they didn't feel squishy. They were firm. I had no doubt they were indeed real, not surgically enhanced. Massaging them, I got the most intense reaction thus far as she writhed more to my touch as I went from just kneading her whole breasts to pinching and playing with her areolas getting her nipples as hard as pencil erasers.

Taking my hands off her evoked a louder reaction as she then moaned louder, this time in frustration. I ignored her though as I still wasn't done with my own personal 'inspection'. I walked behind her and got a better view of her ass. Groping both cheeks firmly, she immediately stopped her gyrations of disappointment. I felt the firmness and how well toned her flesh was. She responded to my touch as I started to rub from her cheeks to her hips. I even slipped a sneak into her and felt how hot and slick her slit was between her legs. No doubt she had been aroused by the predicament she was in and by all those patrons that had been feeling her up all night.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a dulcet voice from the raised platform. Turning to look at her, it was an 'Attendant'. "Sirs and Mistresses, the auction shall begin momentarily."

Smiling, I turned my attention back to 'lot 49'. I knew she couldn't hear me from the hood she wore, but I leaned in and whispered into her flap where her ear was located.

"I'm buying you tonight."


I don't know how long I was in that position. Nor did I know what I was. I was not told this. In what seemed like ages ago, the flaps on my hood were raised only to instruct me on how I was to be positioned. I obeyed every command. I felt the cape come off as my bare body was exposed. I felt the straps going around each of my legs to keep me kneeling, but would allow me to part my legs. I felt a choker go around my neck. I was unbound by my wrists and was told to raise my arms. Once they were as high as I could reach, the cuffs were linked again and were attached to something with a distinctive click of a padlock. I was tethered to something. I didn't know what was going on, but I could hear voices coming from around the room. They were just audible, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I assumed they were commands for other submissives like me, but I wasn't certain.

The flaps to my hood were reattached and once again I couldn't hear a thing. Sightless, deaf, and voiceless, all I could do was wait position in the bondage I was arranged, by the 'Attendants'. With my senses dulled, my body started to focus on my remaining prominent one: touch.

My sense of touch, as my whole naked body had become one big sensor, had become extremely acute as a result of my sensory deprivation. My skin could feel the coolness in the air. Not that it bothered me. As the Goosebumps on my bare skin started to form, it increased my remaining sense tenfold. So much so, I could sense the various people as they moved about in the room by the slight breezes I felt they made. No matter how far or near they were from me, I felt them move. My sense of touch had become so keen in fact that I could feel when someone came close to me when they periodically came to check if I was alright in the bondage. With the nearness of them, I felt the heat of their bodies, although I couldn't tell anything else. I then felt the stir in the air as they walked away. But then, after another person came to check on me, I felt no one else, but the other subs in the room for the longest time.

The stillness in the room was eerie, but I wasn't worried. I trusted everyone on the Fifth Floor: the 'Attendants', the 'Trusted' security and concierge, and especially 'the owner'. Although I had never met any of them personally or formally in my tenure as a submissive of the Club, I was always in a safe, sane and consensual environment.

Losing track of time in the silent dark, it was quite unexpected when something touched me without warning. However, it wasn't much just a touch as I was being handled by my hips and butt, punched at my various parts of my skin, and outright groped by my breasts and pussy. The abrupt stimulation caught me unawares and made me recoil at the first touch. However, it was then I realized that I was being examined. Whoever was tracing me was assessing my responses to His stimuli of being touched, pinched and blatantly molested. When the person was finished, they gave me a swift slap on my butt that made me jump and I was left alone again.

Then one by one (sometimes two at a time) I started to feel other hands start to do the same thing, inspect me. I felt like a piece of fruit in a supermarket at first with the squeezing of the fleshy parts of my body, my butt cheeks and my breasts specifically. But after a while, I got used to it as I just let myself go and be examined. Some were delicate, just feeling me up and down, making my sensitive skin stimulate me with some satisfaction. Although, one or two just plain manhandled me, pinching and slapping my butt, my pussy, my breasts, my nipples, to outright sticking fingers up my vagina and asshole. Not exactly off limits with me, but one did it without so much a consideration to first lube up their digits before shoving them dry up my sensitive sphincter. Thankfully, only one person did that (although they did it three times).

I lost count of how many different hands or exactly how many people examined me as this seemed to go on and on. Still, I was getting very turned on as this continued. In fact, I felt less like a person at times and felt more like an object. Sometimes, when I played these games, I didn't like that. But at this particular game, it felt alright that I was being treated this way.

Then, there was this one man.

He (and I knew it was a 'He' by the touch of His rough hands and the smell of him) came to me and just stood in front of me for the longest time. He didn't touch me at first, but just the closeness of Him was enough to feel His body heat. He finally did touch me, but at first on my hips, not that He felt me up, pinched me, or slapped my bare skin, but He just firmly caressed me up my sides to the top of my arms then back down to my hips. He did this a couple of times gently, but didn't go for my sensitive parts at all. By this time, with everyone else that had come up to me, I had been giving a good once over with every part of me gauged to the brink of ecstasy. It was to the point of where a mere touch was enough to arouse me. I'm sure He knew this by the way I undulated to His caressing touch.

It wasn't until a little later He then started to fully examine me at my more 'personal' parts. His contact was still gentle, but there was firmness to His tracing of me. Though I had been thoroughly handled throughout this time on the Fifth Floor, there was something quite unique about His feel. The way His fingertips traced my skin felt electric. I shuddered as He fingered up my spine and then came around and cupped my breasts. He molded and played with them, massaging my whole rounded flesh with His fingers to playing with my nipples, getting them hard as He continued. When He let go, I started to wriggle and groan in disappointment. But then I felt him behind me. He hadn't touched me yet, but I could tell by just His presence that He was behind me. And then He touched me, holding my butt cheeks firmly for a full moment. It felt wonderful. Stroking in circles on my bare flesh, He explored my most intimate spots. Still, He was gentle as He touched my slit, feeling how hot and wet it was, not only from being played with all this time, but because of His touch as well.

Swimming with lustful thoughts, I couldn't tell how much time had passed since He started examining me, but He stopped suddenly, though He kept His fingers in place at my pussy. As I felt my face grimace in my hood that He stopped, I could feel Him move closer to me, His body near mine. His fingers moved back from my slit to caressing my butt again.

It was certain in my mind. Tonight (if it was indeed still the same day), I was going to be His; this Man was going to be my Master for my duration on the Fifth Floor.

I would serve Him in any way, as long as He made me feel like this.


The rules for the auction were simple. First, increments were placed at one-hundred dollars minimum, with no limit maximum, which kept things interesting. At one auction, I remember one bid went from $500 to the next bidding $10,000. Once the winning bid was accepted, a banking transaction confirmation was required. Money was wired immediately to the Club's private account or, of course, cash was accepted. However, every patron of the Fifth Floor was readily a financial sophisticate who performed million-dollar deals before breakfast or had $25,000 in $100 dollar bills on his money clip or in her purse. Secondly, which was very strictly enforced, a patron was only allowed either one submissive or one set. Once a Dom made a winning bid for a particular 'lot', they were prohibited from bidding on another one. This was why there was a long exam and inspection period for the patrons. Though they had the money, they had only one selection to make. This was also the reason why there were so many 'lots' tonight, so the quality wouldn't dwindle as the auction went on. The 'lots' left over were then blindly bid on by the patrons who wanted more subs for the evening; this meant they openly bid on a lottery, which they could not choose the sub they wanted, but got a preference choice of male or female.

I had participated in these auctions a few times before, but not one in recent memory had I had a particular 'lot' in mind to buy. However, from what I observed, it appeared 'lot 49' was quite popular with many of the patrons. It didn't matter to me, whatever the cost, she had to be mine.

The first few 'lots' went on the auction block with some very hefty prices going to charity. As was with what the theme of the evening, the auction itself was conducted with formal pageantry and flair. Each sub, as they were brought on to be displayed to be bid upon, put on a little demonstration of their abilities. The pony set was brought on as they whinnied and clopped, acting like horses throughout the bidding. They were bought by a Dominatrix as a set.

The 'gladiator', as I had begun to think of him, was led on by an 'Attendant', still in heavy chains. Though he was strong, standing for all that time in those chains did start to apparently take a toll on him as he dragged himself on the block. Either out of pity or to show off his body fully, the 'Attendant' took off the links on him as well as the large chain-mail wrap that hung off him like a loose fitting shirt. All that was left attached was a heavy chain leash attached to a metal collar that an 'Attendant' held onto firmly. The 'gladiator', now free of his cumbersome clothing, then stretched, spreading his arms outward and arched his back slightly. Looking like the Vitruvian man, the musculature firmness of his body builder physique did not go unnoticed by the woman patrons. As if he looked like he was sculpted by Da Vinci, two women Dommes teamed up and purchased him, which was not at all against the rules.

After three more on the block, 'lot 49' was brought up the bidding. She was led on the risers by an 'Attendant' to a waiting steel frame, similar to the platform she was displayed on before, next to the auctioneer's podium. Once there, she was prompted to raise her arms. Her wrist cuffs were still together as they were then attached to a short chain on top of the frame. Because the steel contraption was a shade taller than her, 'lot 49' had to stand on the balls of her feet while on display in front of the audience of patrons.

'The owner' himself had been playing the role of auctioneer all night. No matter which ‘lot’ was on the block, he always started bidding at the same starting price: $1000, which was merely pocket change to half the people in attendance, myself included. Bids were conducted with discretion as 'the owner' scanned the room for takers with slight gestures by the patrons. Different hand gestures indicated how much. As I suspected, even before I gestured for the opening bid, it had increased to $2000. Indeed, this 'lot' was popular as bidding jumped quickly to $5000 before I realized I was outbid. This was not at all unusual, as average winning bids ranged from $25,000 to anywhere up to $50,000. However, in this case, bidding was going fast and furious as the price continued to jig higher and higher, sometimes in increments of the standard $100 to even $2000 at a time. The Fifth Floor record bid for an evening was $61,000 and it looked like that was going to be broken at the rate this was going. At breakneck speed, I was quickly trailing as after my last bid, three more popped up after that. But with determination, I was going to win her companionship for the night.

Before I even rationalized it, I hollered out, "Seventy-five thousand dollars!"

This prompted a few gasps and some murmurs from the others patrons. An out loud bid wasn't against the rules of the auction, but it was indeed rare.

'The owner' quelled the slight astonishment from the patrons as he inquired for anymore bids. And as much as many of the other bidders were rich million and billionaires, I knew from experience that many were miserly tightwads and couldn't justify spending all that money for one night with a sub. With my outburst bid jumping 'lot 49's' price from $17,200 to $75,000, no one else called out. Out of utter shock or simultaneous mutual silent consent, I had purchased 'lot 49' as my slave for the night.

Not bad spending for a day's pay.


It was Him!

At first, I knew I was brought down from my position I was on displayed in for who knows how long and led around for a bit by an 'Attendant'. However, after I was taken down, I was strung up again, this time on my tippy-toes. Only I didn't stay in this position long. When I was brought down again, I felt a leash being attached to my cuffs and then tugged to follow. It was different from the way the 'Attendants' handled me, as they usually led by attaching the leash to my collar and then held firmly at the clip to guide me with better direction. However, first, I smelled Him. I felt Him touch me slightly and He felt very different than the soft skin of the 'Attendants'. He tugged my leash taut and I walked to keep up with Him as He led me in the direction He indicated as I was still in my high heels and the short hobble still attached on my ankles.

As far as I could tell, we were still on the Fifth Floor as I didn't feel going to the lower levels in the elevator. I knew there was the main chamber for the Fifth Floor, but it only took a small portion of the expansive brick converted warehouse in the Club was housed. I assumed I was being led to the 'private rooms', but I couldn't be certain. Being blind for the past hours left me so disoriented, I couldn't tell where exactly I was anymore.

Despite my limited senses, my overall giddiness was not diminished. In fact, knowing it was Him, knowing know that He wanted me, and not knowing what exactly He would do to me, excited me even more. The anticipation felt tingly all over my body, and put some butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn't nervous for the most part.

If indeed it was Him, the one who felt me up last, He would have a gentle, but firm touch and I expected He would fully satisfy my submissive desire.


The private rooms were reserved for those who wished that their 'encounters' would remain within the confines and privacy of the Club, or more accurately, the Fifth Floor. There was enough space for all the patrons, but I noticed, as I led my prize down the corridor, that some were making arrangements with the 'Attendants' for their purchases to be 'escorted' to their residences. And as enticing as it was to take my sub for the night home to my personal, more familiar playroom, I didn't want to waste any time now that I had her.

Following me obediently as I led her by a short leash, we came to the room where an 'Attendant' was waiting for me. Following the set protocols all subs of the Fifth Floor knew, I tugged on the leash three times and she obediently knelt. The 'Attendant' then read from a folder and informed me of what exactly what my limits were with her. Although many of those who volunteered at the Club were willing and dedicated submissives, even those who were extremely into heavy BDSM still had their limitations and 'off-limits' practices. My particular sub was very dedicated indeed with very few 'dislikes'. Nonetheless, now privy to how she liked to be handled, it did not interfere with what I had in mind.

Tugging on her leash once, which meant, "follow," she got to her feet and blindly followed me into the private room. Though she had absolutely no idea what she was or who she was with, I could tell by her breathing and body language that she was expecting something. She tried to hide it, but being a keen observer of human nature, I noticed she was trembling a little. Not enough to be noticed by a normal person, but to me, her mannerisms and slight fidgetiness was apparent.

I tethered her leash upon a wall hook and left her there as I got ready. I gave her a reassuring pat on the ass to make sure she was calm while I left her for a few minutes and she didn't seem to be bothered as I left her there. Sitting at the edge of the bed and taking off my shoes and socks, I continued to watch her. Despite not being able to see her face, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen as a submissive. Though I'd dated many women who had a kink to BDSM, all of them were just in to it for a sexual enhancement, not as a lifestyle, like I was, the other patrons were and my little sub was as well. All of us knew this was part of our lives, not just a small part of it saved for the bedroom or a kinky refurbished basement.

Taking off my shirt and hanging it along with my pants and coat, I was now naked along with my sub. Although, I was by no means a fitness fanatic, I did keep in reasonable shape; not as muscular as 'the gladiator', I was more comparable to a track runner's body, but a few pounds heavier. I wasn't body proud or egotistically vain, but I liked the way I looked.

I went back and untethered my complacent sub and brought her to the edge of the bed. God help me, I wanted to just throw her on the mattress and fuck her. And by the way she still trembled when I touched her when I took off her leash she definitely wanted sexual release. I gathered her sense of touch was ardently acute by the deprivation of her other senses. Uncuffing her hands, I placed them on my body and had her feel who her Master would be for the evening.


My Master (as He'd easily become in my mind) had His hands on top of mine, and guided them on His naked body. He felt amazing. He was slender, but not scrawny as I felt He had athletic muscle on him. Directing where I touched, I felt the firmness and sculpted parts of His abs, His chest; I felt how parts of His torso were just smooth, but I also felt He had a bit of chest hair and the further He led me down His body, I felt the same fuzz on His lower abs to a bit on His groin.

Then, I felt His cock; it was already hard and ridged. I wanted it.

From just feeling Him with my hands, My Master was warm. I knew it wasn't just body heat either. He wanted me. By the blind trembling as I felt weak-kneed, and my own body betrayed the obvious telltale signs of heightened sexuality, I wanted My Master as well.

After a little bit more of exploration of His body, He then pulled my wrists together around my back. Squeezing them together with one hand, I knew that meant He wanted me to keep them there, though He didn't link them with the cuffs I wore (which He could have easily done). However, I'm sure He had His reasons not to just yet.

As I came to that conclusion, I felt some pressure on my helmet. I felt something tugging at the sides of it. It was only when I could suddenly feel my ears free and hear something other than white noise, I realized My Master had taken off the flaps on my hood to allow me to hear.

"Listen closely, slave," He whispered in my right ear.

I nodded slightly in reply and listened with rapt attention.


"You were at a slave auction tonight," I started to explain to her. "I bought you until morning. I paid a considerable amount to make you mine, slave."

Standing at her right side as I whispered into her ear, I then started to simultaneously stroke up and down her front and back of her body with my hands. I paid particular interest to her breasts, getting her nipples nice and hard; also I took care in caressing her ass, stroking each cheek in circular motions. As I did this, she reacted to my touch once again.

"And I intend," I continued, "to get all my money's worth out of you . . .  and then some."

By this time, I had moved my hand down from her breasts to just gingerly grazing her slit, which prompted a moan from her. My little sub's pussy was already hot and dripping wet with her juices. Her natural lubrication told me she was more than ready for play. I stopped with my teasing hands and guided her gently into a proper position for the preliminaries. I sat at the edge of the bed and draped my still blind sub on my lap.

As I stroked her lovely rounded ass, I mused as I'm sure she knew what was going to happen next.


My Master was going to spank me, I gleefully thought to myself.

He had me in the right position. Part of my right boob was a little squished as it was on His thigh, but I didn't mind it. My ears were still unflapped. I assumed He kept them that way for me to hear His instructions. However, my hands were still free as well, but as I thought about this, My Master answered the question that was forming in my mind.

"I've kept your wrists unbound in order for you to steady yourself on the floor," He said as He continued to rub my butt. "I could change my mind later on, but right now, you know what's coming and though I've been gentle with you so far, I'm about to become less so."

As I continued to feel the movement of His one hand, I felt His other one trace from the top of my spine with His fingertips, downward to come to a stop at the top of my hip as He then held firm there. I had no idea when He would start, but the anticipation He was building in me by making me wait was making me excited and antsy at the same time. Horny and hesitant, wanting and yet insecure, I felt all this in those few seconds as He teased me further.

As a Master, He knew, as well as I did, that a well executed spanking, done properly, gave a sexual heat, enough to make a sub cum. And indeed, I was that type of sub that came when properly (and even sometimes not properly) spanked.

Without warning, I felt Him stop stroking my butt. Before I could moan in protest, I felt a firm sharp rap hit me squarely on my right buttock. The suddenness and unexpected power of the smack made me yelp in my gag and jump a little in My Master's lap. As the pain subsided and the tingling and heat started to generate on my one cheek, He started to rub it, not to antagonize it, but in no kind of pattern, He stroked my slightly stinging butt cheek.


Again with no forewarning, My Master stopped stroking me and this time hit me again, harder this time on my left butt cheek. Again, I yelped a bit through my gag. However, I didn't jump in His lap and had braced myself with my hands on the floor, balancing me. As He did before, He stroked my left buttock just as the smarting of the strike had dulled. Only this time, He began to rub both cheeks.


Three slaps this time in succession, right squarely on my right butt. So hard!


Three more on my left one.

Each one was hard, firm and never hit at the same part of my flesh. I screamed, but it was still muffled by the gag I was cursedly still wearing. I wanted to scream out loudly, not in pain, but to add to my intensity.

God, He was making me cum just by spanking me.


Dead center, a little bit of each cheek this time, but not exactly one or the other exclusively. The heat and indescribable feeling I was experiencing made me writhe in His lap. I felt His still hard cock poking me slightly. I wanted to grab it in my hands and get him off, or suck him off with my mouth (at this point, I had forgotten about my gag); I wanted to pay Him back for the intense way He was making me feel. My arms were getting weak, and my legs just about buckled as He continued with His barrage.


There was no set pattern to His strikes. As He went on, sometimes He would caress my buttocks, but then other times He didn't. Sometimes He let me catch my breath, others He spanked me on short bursts making me pant. He changed it up so that He hit me once on each cheek and made me squirm, telling Him silently by the way I presented my butt to Him that I wanted more. He only obliged when He wanted to, my moans and muffled squeals of frustrations and sexual heat apparently had no effect on Him. I was nothing but an object, a plaything, something that produced sexual energy with His touch. God, I was enjoying every damn second of being His slave.

But just as I thought I couldn't get any higher in my lustful frenzy, I felt His free hand He'd been using to hold me down slide on my now sweaty skin move underneath, toward my nether region.

I quivered as His hand got closer.


The way she undulated in my lap, wriggling her ass as she egged on for me to spank her more, how greedily she wanted it more, surprised me. I could feel her body heat as she lay there in my lap. Hearing her moan as she begged for me to continue, and the way she screeched through her gag as I struck her warm rear end, enticed me, turned me on even more.

I knew she was teetering on the precipice of orgasm, but I wanted her to cum hard -- really hard.

I slid my other hand from holding her down at her back to reach underneath her and play with her pussy. The heat at her groin was unbelievable. Her body was moistened with sweat by this time, but as wet as she was down there, I knew it wasn't all perspiration. As I traced her hot slit with my fingertips, I was proven right as she was dripping wet with her juices. She shuddered as I touched her there slightly. I smiled knowing that I was doing this to her.


I hit her ass hard, this time making her jump a little. As she reacted to this, I cupped my hand covering her pussy. She felt this immediately as I heard a muffled gasp and her panting breathing inhaled a deep breath. I held my hand still for a few seconds, getting used to its slick environment.


When I spanked her then, I started to gently rub her with my hand moving up and down her box. She started to moan more and louder. Despite the gag she wore firmly, she was quite raucous with it sounding gutturally sexual and fervent. Continuing in irregular intervals the frequency or exactly when I spanked her, I also manipulated her pussy. Eventually, I went from just rubbing her there to starting to probe her cuntlips, exploring within the soft wet folds. I was gentle as I gingerly slipped a finger partly into her sex. It was easy with the natural lubricant letting my lone digit inside her hot snatch. I couldn't get in a better position to put my finger all the way inside her; and by the way she started moving her body back and forth, she wanted to be fucked by my finger. However, I didn't want to stop spanking her just yet. So, I did what I thought would be the next best thing for her.


He had His finger in me! God, it felt so good. I wanted it all in me. All the way in me. I rocked back and forth. God, I wanted to get fucked.

Only, He didn't do it.

The bastard! I angrily thought to myself, but then caught myself.

If He'd heard me say that-!

However, He continued His random pattern of spankings, one cheek, two, one after the other, etc. But He now added as He did this His partially entered finger and with His thumb started to manipulate my clit.

Oh my God!

Oh God!

I cringed slightly to this added stimulus. As I had been edging along cumming all this time, this made me want to burst. I was losing control. My legs buckled; my arms lost their strength; I was screaming so loud, I don't think my gag helped silence me anymore. My whole body quaked as He played with my button. He stimulated my clit with impassioned ferocity. I knew I was no longer an object to Him, no longer a plaything either. As I bucked and writhed in His lap, I was an animal, a sexual animal. He made me forget that I was a slave, that I had cuffs, a hood and the label of 'submissive', I never felt more alive or even womanly. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest as I felt it race. I took in as much air as I could, as I felt almost winded.

Oh God!


Ah! So good!

Ah, sooo good!



I-- Ah-- I'm--!!!


As soon as she went limp, I stopped what I was doing. I picked her up and laid her on the bed and unfastened her gag. I was relieved to see her breathe, a little fast, but her chest was moving regularly. I checked her pulse at her neck and listened to her heart; a little quick, but strong.

She just passed out.

My little sub now sprawled out on the bed, I stood up and just looked at this creature that I had grown so fond of in the past few hours. And as much as she looked helpless, I knew that she wasn't. She was strong, beautiful and lovely. I stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her, spellbound.

I then realized that I had her gag in my hand and that this was the first time I had seen her without part of her hood on. Only her lower head was exposed, her jaw, mouth and such, but still, it was like I was falling in love with her. Still, I had no idea what she looked like.

"Well . . ." I pondered out loud to myself, ". . . in for a penny . . ."

Still out like a light, I gently lifted her head and unbuckled her hood. It was easy to take off her hood since it was partially open at the back for her hair to come through a bit and the front for her mouth. The hood slipped off easily without me jarring her enough to be woken up.

"Whoa . . ."


It felt like I was waking up from a refreshing, long sleep. I yawned.

I yawned?

As I moved my jaw around to confirm this, I found that I wasn't gagged anymore. In fact, I didn't feel the familiar confines of my hood on my head anymore. I opened my eyes and this was confirmed. I tried to get up, but found that I couldn't. I was on my side, my arms and legs were behind me bound in a tight hog-tie.

I looked around as much as my head could see. I was in one of the Fifth Floor's private rooms alright. It was ornately decorated in red wallpaper and antique looking wooden furniture. I wasn't about to panic, but I didn't like being left alone, especially if I was bound.

"It's okay," a female voice said behind me.

I couldn't turn my head to see her, but she came over to where I was facing me and knelt on the bed to look at me eye to eye.

"You're alright," she said. It was an 'Attendant'. "You've been sleeping for the past couple of hours."

"What happened, Miss?" I asked.

Smiling, she started to stroke my hair as she explained.

"You passed out, slave," she said somewhat affectionately. "Your Master waits in the lounge. He left me here to take care of you and make sure you were alright when you woke. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine, Miss," I answered after a second. "Who tied me up this way, Miss?"

"Your Master."

"Who removed my hood, Miss?" I blurted out the most foremost question in my mind.

Smiling, she answered, "Your Master did. When you went limp, He was worried that you weren't getting enough air. He removed your gag and hood as well just in case."

I'd wanted to remain anonymous. It was on my preferences on my file, but it wasn't a big deal; that decision was up to the Dom I was with anyway.

"Your Master wanted to be informed once you had awakened," the 'Attendant' confirmed. "Do you wish for me to get him?"

"Oh!" I said breaking out of my trance. "Oh, yes . . . of course! Thank you, Miss."

Then bowing slightly, she left the room without another word. I was still nude, completely now that my hood was off, and bound in a wonderfully tight hog-tie. Oddly enough, I didn't feel nervous or any sense of dread about meeting my unknown Master. After all, He'd made me cum in a way I'd never felt before in my life: playing with me, taking me over His knee, spanking me, making me cum until I blacked out. I still felt like I hadn't fully recovered yet from that, and I was willing to submit to Him as His slave out of the Fifth Floor permanently. That is, if He would have me.

I wasn't facing the door when it opened a few minutes later, so I couldn't see who had come into the room. Hearing the door close, I heard footsteps coming toward me to the bed. The heavy sounding footfalls told me it was a man.

I felt Him sit beside me, with my back to Him. Before I could move to look at Him, He put His hand on my head and silently told me not to move. I complied. I closed my eyes.

It was Him.

His presence and command over me confirmed that it was My Master. He brushed some of my long hair away from my neck and kissed me there. He then hovered and blew gently on my skin, which made the little hairs there stand at attention and formed Goosebumps on my flesh. His other hand slid down the side of my body from my shoulders down to my hip. He brushed more of my hair away to reveal my ear and blew a puff of air that made me shudder. God, the way He made me feel.

God! I wanted to be His slave so much.

"How do you feel?" He then asked softly in my ear. I was about to breathlessly answer, but He then added almost as an afterthought, " . . . Chloe?"

My name! My real name!! How did He know?!? It's not in my file! How the Hell did He know?!?!

Whipping my head to see Him, I was met with a smiling handsome face. Beautiful brown eyes, jet black hair, slightly rugged stubble of a couple of days unshaven growth, but I didn't recognize him at all. He didn't even look remotely familiar to me.

"Who--? How did--? Who are--?" were all I could manage to bleat out.

Smiling, He winked at me and said, "We've never actually ever met in person . . . but who else . . .  owes you this . . . ?" He then showed me what He had behind his back. A single red rose with a white ribbon tied to the stem.

"Ohmygod," I whispered in a barely audible voice of disbelief, "Aaron?"


As I sat at the Fifth Floor lounge and sipped my martini, I couldn't help but think if our encounter tonight was either just dumb luck or kismet. It was years ago, before I had went in with my dot-com stock and got out before it fell, before I even knew about the underground society in the City for BDSM, I was a very different person, but if anything, Chloe has only gotten more beautiful.

I was attending Yale with a double major: computer sciences and business, a real nerd. I was terribly shy and a social outcast for the most part. My only social life consisted of chat rooms and e-mail pen pals. One dateless Saturday (one of many), I came upon a chat room called the "Silk Rose Thorn". It was labeled for those who were into Bondage and domination and such. Initially, I just wanted to fuck around with the people chatting. However, as I talked to them and spent more time in there, I found them to be very engaging, intelligent, passionate and very open minded. I found the subject of this kind of sex actually quite interesting as well. I then met 'Appassionata Fire' in that room. She was new there just like me. We started talking being 'newbies' and all.

From that first night, we exchanged e-mail addresses and started writing to each other. Sporadically at first, we then wrote everyday talking about the most mundane stuff in our lives, school, friends, family, but we also explored our sexuality and newfound interest in BDSM together. We soon learned that it wasn't all about just sex and ropes and cuffs and paddles. It was about connecting with someone. And it was also all about trust.

Chloe's initial interests were more into being tied up and incapacitated, but she always said a good spanking was something she enjoyed if done correctly. She said that it came from a need to let go, give up her freedom and let someone else to make all their decisions. It was a special kind of liberty; paradoxical: freedom from being bound, but it was something that people in the lifestyle, submissive specifically, can only understand.

Mine was subtler with my interest in domination; more specifically, I was a control freak. Being the eldest child in my family, I was often in charge; in my ordered world of computer programs, flowchart models, A+B=AB, software language, everything had its place. I soon found that with bondage, the practice, the discipline in learning how to be an effective Master was suited for me, a new challenge. Not that I was forceful or charismatically domineering like some in the lifestyle, but I've been told that I have a quiet authoritative temperament as well as a vivid imagination that made me a natural Dominant.

Conversing online, we explored different things learning about all kinds of different BDSM disciplines together. We both flushed out scenarios we were interested in trying, but neither had any kind of practical exercise as we were just getting into the lifestyle. But through this theoretical trial and error, we found what we thought we would and would not like to try; what we truly were interested in being: Dominant or submissive. Not only that, we gratefully also became friends, very close friends, albeit just talking online.

Then I discovered she was at Yale as well. Shortly after she told me her real first name, 'Chloe' and I told me her mine in turn, 'Aaron', we thought about meeting up. The issue was kicked around for a while when finally neither of us could stand it anymore. We mutually consented to meet at a little café off campus. Since we hadn't exchanged pics or even described each other, I told her to have a single rose with a piece of white ribbon tied on the stem with her. I told her I would have the same. It was our first real test of trust with each other, something very important in the lifestyle we understood. Truth be told, I did have the rose with the white ribbon in my book bag when I got to the café.

Chloe was already there.

Her rose was prominently displayed at her table. She looked around to see if anyone else in the coffee shop had the same; as well as looking at everyone who walked in, including me. I knew it was her, a beauty, winsomely stunning; long brunette hair, doe brown eyes, lithe, but not skinny, and totally, utterly, completely out of my league. Chloe was gorgeous. As courageous as I felt because we were friends, I'm sure she would've seen through the coke-bottle glasses, the extra pounds of flab, and very sci-fi geekish way I was dressed.

However, as I reached into my bag and touched the rose within, some random guy, a 'Skull & Bones' elitist looking frat boy, who no doubt got into Yale because of daddy, turned his attention to Chloe's table and started hitting on her.

In that moment, I lost all confidence. Who was I to approach Chloe? She never would've given a person like me a second look. When she could've gotten any man she wanted, what on earth could she want from me, I thought to myself. Not a nerd like me.

I went to the counter calmly and ordered a coffee to go to keep up appearances. I could overhear the tired lines the frat boy were using on Chloe and rolled my eyes slightly at them. Not letting on who I was, I snuck a few glances toward Chloe as I waited for my order.

Frat boy caught me staring and in an act of youthful bravado, curtly asked, "What are you looking at, geek?!"

I turned away quick and received my coffee to go a second later. I hurriedly made my way out of the café. But before I was out the door, I took one more fleeting look at Chloe. Our eyes met for a moment. She conveyed a silent sympathetic smile. I weakly smiled back, then turned and walked out.

Chloe e-mailed me that night, slightly pissed that I didn't show up. I made up some flimsy excuse about a family emergency. She didn't believe me. It took time for us to get the trust on the part to be rebuilt. She eventually forgave me and we remained friends.

We managed to keep in touch even today, although we've never revealed anything very personal about ourselves. And I never told her that I saw her that day we were supposed to meet. But we only had contact through e-mail and instant messenger chat; we've never even spoken on the phone. All these years, we've stayed pretty much strangers, though we know each other's dirty secrets, dreams and fantasies; intimates of very intimates.


"When I took off your hood, to make sure you were alright . . .  I immediately recognized you, Chloe," Aaron continued with his story. "You haven't changed. You're still as beautiful as I remember."

Aaron had untied me and insisted on covering myself, despite my assurances that I was quite comfortable with being nude in front of Him. After all, we'd done a lot more, way past the bounds of modesty at this point. But, as I sat at the edge of the bed, covered in its silk sheets, and Aaron sat in the chair across from me, I listened attentively. It was remarkable. If He hadn't told me in vivid details some of the BDSM fantasies I had only told Him in confidence, I wouldn't have believed it was Aaron. But He knew everything about me as a submissive; He also knew so much stuff about my personal life, past lovers, secrets, and intimacies I only told to one person in my life, Aaron.

"So . . ." I finally said. "Unless this is some elaborate government conspiracy that has been spying on me since I was a sophomore at Yale . . .  you . . .  are . . .  you're really--"

"Yes," He said with an amused grin, the kind of grin a cat who ate the canary could only have. "It's really me, Chloe."

Taking all this in, I was numb for a good long moment. I had no thought in my head and all the feeling I had in my body escaped. When I started to gather my senses back, it was then I realized I was naked. Not just my unclothed body, but with my unguarded soul. I was exposed and uncomfortable for the first time in my adult life. I pulled on the sheets tighter covering me a little.

"So . . ." I started to ask, very unsure of myself or what exactly I was feeling, ". . . what happens now?"

Looking contemplative, He paused for a good long minute. Then smirking once again, He then looked at his watch.

"Well . . ." He began, "according to the time, I still technically own you for another six hours."

I smiled. After all this revelation, He still wanted to play as much as I did.

"Whether you'll have breakfast with me after this is all over is entirely up to you," He added.

"Breakfast?" I inquired.

With that same Cheshire cat grin He had on before, Aaron then said, "Seems as though I at least owe you a cup of coffee . . ."

I looked at Him wide-eyed again, but started smiling as I bit my lower lip as intrigued about what He would do with me all night. All those scenarios and scenes, fantasies and bondage we'd talked about for all these years suddenly came to mind. All of a sudden, it dawned on me why I trusted Him so completely even though I didn't know it was Aaron. It was because of the way He'd handled me tonight. It was the way He wrote to me how He would treat submissives; firm, but gentle, commanding, yet tender at the same time.

Standing up from the bed, disregarding the sheet covering me, I sauntered up to the still sitting Aaron who had a smile still on his face as I approached. Posing in front of Him, just standing totally nude, I felt His eyes look over every inch of me. I tried to look as sultry as I could in my pose for Him.

I'd always wondered why Aaron didn't meet me that one day back at Yale. I'd forgiven Him a long time ago about it. And after hearing the real story, it was alright too. It was all in the past. Plus, the way Aaron had made me feel even before I knew it was Him was unlike anything I'd had with anyone else: Master or lover. Now that I knew it was Him and He knew it was me, because we knew almost everything intimate about each other, it all seemed perfectly natural.

I knelt at His feet and crossed my wrists in front of Him. Bowing my head, I said, "I am yours, Master."

Standing up from His chair, He prompted me to do so as well and turned me around. Pulling my hands behind my back, He linked my wrist cuffs together. Turning me again to face Him, I still had my head downward. Until He put his finger under my chin and made me look up at him.

"I think I owe you something else as well," Aaron said as He leaned in toward me, then added as almost an afterthought whisper, ". . . slave . . ."

I closed my eyes as our lips met.


Kissing Chloe told me all I needed to know. Previously, I had never let a Master/sub relationship that happened here in private get this far. But with Chloe, the games I had played were all over. All the doubt I had before, thinking I wasn't good enough for her disappeared years ago. Today, I was a confidant man, as well as a Dominant I knew she wanted. Although I had felt apprehensive now that she knew the truth, the whole truth now, Chloe still submitted to me as her Master.

I scooped her up, carried her to the bed, and put her down gently. She started to stretch out her body and legs like a cat as I ripped off my shirt and took off my pants. Kissing her deep and long passionately, I touched her naked skin and it was as sensitive and electric as it had been all night. As we broke apart for a moment, our eyes met.

"You want this?" I asked for her consent.

"Yes, Master . . ." she said in breathless anticipation, ". . . I want this, please."

Moving down, I kissed her again. Greedily, she wanted to taste me, as finally I had filled my own personal fantasy of kissing her. For so many years, I had that one defining regret in my life looming over my head; not going to her that afternoon at Yale and giving her that rose. Tonight, I was rectifying it in spades, not just for me, but for Chloe as well.

Where we would go from here, I wasn't sure. What I was sure about was whether it was a fluke or destiny that brought us here together at last on the Fifth Floor, I never felt richer or more content in my short life than right at that moment kissing my little submissive. I felt that for certain as I reached behind her, uncuffed her wrists, raised her arms above her head to the metal frame of the bed to link her cuffs there and she purred in delight.  I then knew that I owned her, body and soul.

-The End-