She was nervous as she stood in front of him, this new Master of hers. Should she stand there awaiting his order, or did he expect her to be in some position? He stood there staring, measuring her. His look making her less and less secure. She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
What did he want from her? What were his wishes? Questions
swirled around her head as she stood waiting... Feeling as if she was already
failing a test. An impossible test. A test of mind reading.
He had ordered her to lay face down on the couch and shut her eyes. Passively, she complied, feeling the soft material of the couch brush against her naked skin. She lifted her ankles slightly, afraid that the one thing she was wearing, 5" spiked heels might tear the couch.
Keeping her eyes closed she heard and sensed him move away from her, and then come back. She almost dared to open her eyes. Almost.... but not enough to risk punishment.
His hands closed over her wrists, drawing them together behind her back. Quickly and expertly he tied them together, tight enough to secure but not cut off the circulation. Realizing his full intentions she started to move away from him, trying to bury the toes of her heels into the furthest corner of the couch while twisting the rest of her body away.
He stopped that quickly, by grabbing her ankles and drawing them up so that her body folded back on its' self. He tied the ankles together, and then fastened them to the restraints on her wrists, drawing the cord around her body so that the spike of her heels rested against her bottom. She wiggled, testing the bonds, and found that the most she could manage was to roll to her side.
"Oh, by the way" he said casually, "you can open your eyes now."
Opening her eyes she turned her head to look at him, trying to hide the glare she felt from being tied in "such an undignified position." He smiled, and produced a pair of clover clamps from the floor.
She pressed her lips together, determined not to make a sound. He fastened the clips, and then too her horror, rolled her back on to her stomach and secured one more rope so that she could not roll back on to her side.
She arched backward, trying to take the weight of her body off of the clamps. A squeak of pain escaped her throat.
Moving away from her, he settled comfortably into a chair
where he could see her every move. She realized he planned
to stay there, where he could watch and study her face and body.
She could not hide her face in the couch without putting weight on
the ever increasingly painful clamps. Yet, she could not keep
her back arched forever. Sooner or later her strength would
give out. And with each wiggle the clamps felt tighter. She
moaned quietly from the pain, still trying to hold her dignity.
And he sat back and watched. Watched her body. Watched
her face. Watched the control slowly slip from her grasp.
"Turn." He ordered, leaning back on the couch to watch her.
She started turning, trying to make as little noise with the chains that ran between her wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. They were chained together, so it was difficult.
"Slower!" He said sharply. She tried to turn more slowly, attempting to be graceful at the same time. With each foot step she had to coordinate her wrists so that the chain slid back and forth. She could hear the links rubbing together with every move. She continued turning, knowing better than to stop without an order.
"Head down!" She quickly lowered her head, gazing at her own body as she continued turning. The silver chain formed and X keeping her wrists held just below her stomach. The wrist and ankle cuffs were black leather, contrasting nicely with the bright chain. Her only clothing was a black garter, with black nylons and heels. A leather collar with a back buckle adorned her neck, and a silver chain leash had been wrapped loosely around it so it hung over her breasts.
As she turned he talked to the other man on the couch, talking
about her as if she was not there. The two of them commenting
on the ornamentation, a Barbie on a stand. And with a black
gag tied behind her head, that is what she felt like. A Barbie,
existing only for their viewing pleasure. Exposed. She
continued the slow circle.
"Crawl to me" the order came from somewhere directly in front of her. Not even a collar surrounded her neck as she was bound by nothing but force of will. Her eyes were shut -- she had been earlier ordered, and a whip handle had been placed in her mouth.
Gracefully she pulled herself up from the last position her Mistress
had ordered her in. Ankles together, knees spread apart, her
bottom resting on her feet and hands behind her back. Keeping
the handle of the whip carefully in her teeth and her head down she
crawled slowly toward the voice. She could feel her breast
swaying freely as she slid across the carpeted room, knowing
that the whip, her black g-string and red finger nails were the only
contrasting colors with the beige carpet. She tried to imagine
what she looked like, hair falling over her face; moving her body as
sensually as possible. She hoped her Mistress would be pleased.
She stared at his features, running her hands lightly over his
face. He returned her gaze with a loving intensity that almost had
her in tears. As her fingers brushed his lips he kissed them gently.
It was a quiet moment, one to be savored... one that she wished could go
She sat curled up in a ball, knees to her chest and hand clasped tightly around them. Emotional iciness ran through her causing her to shiver despite the temperature of the room.
Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she stared straight ahead
of her, seeing nothing. Trying to make herself into a smaller ball
and wished she would disappear from the pain. The tears dropped onto
her shirt and she did not even bother to wipe them away. She just
pulled further into herself.
She held him, feeling love and safety flowing within her. The serenity of the area adding to the feeling of tranquility inside of her. His eyes were closed and his face was buried in her chest, but she knew he was not asleep. She opened channel in her mind to his, trying to connect with his feelings, sending her love over the connection.
He felt comfortable, in "feeling" space, and she relaxed with him leaving herself as open. She was glad, because it meant that he too felt safe.
Suddenly a new feeling, his breathing deepened for a moment. She felt pain, knowing it was his mental anguish she was feeling. She tightened her arms around him slightly. Inside she had felt him cry.
Tentatively she asked him what hurt. He blinked for a moment
from the semi-trance state he was in and answered that he did not
remember. She merely
nodded, channeling her energy to weaving the cocoon of safety and love around both of them.
It was 5:00pm, and as usual the metro was crammed with commuters, all hurrying home. The car was hot, and the unpleasant smell of sweat, perfume, and train all mixed to make it almost stifling.
She stood near the middle, clinging to the metal pole for support, trying to shut out the surrounding people, breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench.
Suddenly she felt a hand by her leg, brushing it lightly. She wanted to write it off to crowding and accident until the hand started to creep up her skirt. Angered, she froze for a moment, and the hand slid a little further. The train stopped, and under the guise of gaining balance she stomped down hard on the flat of the person's foot, grinding the spike of her heal into his shoe. The yelp of pain she heard gave her pleasure, and eyes blazing, she whirled around to confront the person.
They were gone.
'Oh well', she thought, grinning in satisfaction, one less non-
consensual incidence in the world.
Reaching around, she embraced the smaller woman in front of her, nuzzling her neck under the soft fuzz of her hair line. She bit at the neck, lightly, then harder. Taking her pleasure from the moans she was causing.
Gently, she turned the woman around, hugging her close and twisting her nipples through the sweater. She felt the woman melt into her. Felt the love flowing between them. She glanced over the woman's shoulder and saw him watching. Staring. The buildings were empty of students, only the janitor and they were on the grounds. She met his eyes defiantly then turned her attention back to her girlfriend, biting, sucking, and nibbling on her neck and shoulders. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him walk back inside the building, occasionally trying to see what they were doing without being obvious. But she knew.
She could feel her power. The power of having her girlfriend,
this beautiful woman, melting into her. Power from the envy she could
feel from the janitor. Power of being free to do what she wanted
wherever she wanted. Sheer energy from that power.
She focused on the pain, breathing into each blow on her bottom. Heat radiated directly down to her clit, and she could feel herself getting wetter with each stroke. She twisted her body slightly, trying to aim the paddle where she wished it, moving with the Top. Her eyes closed tightly beneath the blindfold increasing the sensations and sounds.
Suddenly it felt as if she were flying out of her body. The wiggling stopped, signaling the Top that she was on an endorphin rush. The paddle landed harder, more insistently. And suddenly she was back, moving forward to lessen the force of the blows. The paddle lightened as the pain came back in force. Then it was gone again, as she flew on another rush....