The First Session
- 9 months ago
- 13 min read
- 1,051 Aufrufe
The room is dark, warm and still. You had a sense of space around you as you were led in by the leash he had strapped around your neck when you arrived. Being blindfolded though, you didn't have a chance to look around. The first sound you recognize is that of metal on metal, a ring on the ceiling, perhaps? The sound stops, and he takes you by the arms, undoes the shackles and replaces them with leather restraints, which he then raises above your head and ties off to something. (Your white button down shirt and black lace bra had been discarded after you entered, just after the blindfold had been placed over your eyes, and before the leash had been set in place.)
Now you're standing there, exposed in the middle of the room, waiting. You can hear his footsteps, soft, flesh against wood. They keep traveling around you, circling you, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. You feel as though you are being sized up, measured. You catch a whiff of cigarette smoke; he's definitely taking his time. He comes close gain, and your jeans, loose fitting and unbelted as he had requested, are pulled gently off you and left at your ankles.
You imagine what he is seeing—the black g-string he told you to wear, the pale white skin of your legs and ass. Against your will goose bumps appear on your skin, having nothing to do with the temperature; your back, arms, thighs and bottom are covered in them—almost as if your flesh is reaching outwards towards him, waiting for him. You try to remember that you had asked—no—begged for this, and so remain still.
You hear the rattle of chain on metal again, and suddenly there is a sharp pull on your wrists. You are raised till your feet can't touch the ground, and you sway gently from your chains. A quick sound in the air is your only warning before you feel a sharp thwack on your ass, hard enough to have you rocking back and forth in the air. You cry out in surprise as much as pain when you are grabbed by the throat by a large powerful hand which then begins to squeeze. "Did I give you permission to make noise?" His voice is low and deep.
Sputtering for breath you reply. "No, but you surprised me." Smack. His hand releases your throat and strikes your cheek, and flashes of light dance in the darkness behind your blindfold.
"What did you say?"
You stammer, "I said no, but..." Whack.
You sense his approval. "Good. I'll expect you to remember that."
"Yes, sir." You reply quietly. Your flesh is warm, hot, in fact, where his hand touched you. He reaches around and, using your hair for a handle spins you around until you've lost all sense of direction. All you can sense is his presence somewhere near you, and the sting of the handprint on your cheek. As if noting that your bum no longer stings he delivers two sharp strikes, one on each cheek of your ass.
A low moan, half growl escapes from your lips. You flick your hair back in what little defiance you can show. "What did I do to deserve this, sir?" The sarcasm is unmistakable in your voice.
He does not answer, though you thought you heard a very low chuckle after you spoke. There is a thud as something is dropped to the ground. You hear a rustle as if he was removing something from a bag. You draw in your breath as your imagination starts painting pictures for you. You follow the sounds as best you can, careful to make none of your own. You hear something else hit the ground close to your feet. Reflexively you "look" down at it, and as you do a flogger cuts down across your back in quick, searing stings.
First from right to left, then left to right. Across your ass, your thighs, up to your back again. Your entire being is on fire. Suddenly now they're coming from the front, licking against your inner thighs, your belly, your breasts, now back to your ass again. You try to escape, but all you can do is wriggle like a fish on a hook.
More across your back, the front of your thighs, your mind reels from the shock of it. It seems there must be two, maybe three men thrashing you, yet in your heart you know it is only he. The beating suddenly stops as his hands wrap around your throat, pulling your entire body towards him. Every inch of you is awake, alive. Your breath comes short and hoarse, and your body shakes. Yet still there is fight left in you. Reflexively, you try to bite down on his hands.
You bite on nothing but air. He moves one hand from your throat to tangle in your hair, and then removes his other hand. You wait, wholly expecting more pain, more punishment. Another low growl escapes your lips, but no pain comes. He simply holds you there. Suddenly his hand begins to caress your face, your neck, your ears. He runs is almost casually down your breasts and over your belly down to your g-string, which he very gently removes from you releasing your hair to do so.
Knowing how soaked they must be from your excitement you wait, holding perfectly still, wondering if he is going go satisfy himself with you. You can feel the back of one hand running up your thighs. You clench your legs closed, something in you wanting both to anger and arouse him, dangerous though it may be.
With no warning at all he slaps you hard across the face. Against your will you let out a small scream as the force of it snaps your head back, and star-fire explodes again behind the blindfold. You again hear the clang of metal on metal, and suddenly you are in a heap on the floor.
"On your knees. Now." He says, very quietly.
You obey without thought, and then are furious with yourself for doing so. You hear the sound of his zipper coming down. "Now, slave, what do you think you should do next?"
You gather what is left of your pride and sarcasm to answer him. Sitting up on your knees, you say with a smirk on your face, "That's entirely up to you, sir."
His tone grows very even and quiet. "I asked you a question, slave. Answer me properly." His tone g rows even colder as you hesitate. "Now."
Finally frightened, you soften your own tone. "I should do what you ask of me, sir." Almost all the sarcasm has left your voice, and you realize that you mean what you say.
"What I ask of you? What I ask is that you show the proper respect to your Master." You feel a leather collar being attached around your neck, tight. Enough room is left for you to breath, but not much else. Then a chain is attached to the front of the collar. "Turn around, and get on your hands and knees."
You do so, but slowly, trying to make it seem that it is your own choice. You can almost feel the smirk on his face, watching your small acts of defiance. It only serves to excite you more. The sting of the paddle, recovered from the floor, reminds you abruptly of your current position.
"Now crawl, slave."
You make no move to do so. Instead, you stay where you are, raising your ass higher in the air, presenting him with a perfect target. When you don't move he strikes you again, harder this time. Again and again, switching sides each time, until the pain finally becomes too much, and you begin to crawl, trying not to let him see the tears seeping down through your blindfold. After what seems an eternity he pulls gently on your leash. "Stop, and stand up."
Your knees hardly support you, and you are helped onto a padded table. He makes you lie down with your ass in the air, and then quickly he shackles your wrists and ankles to the table. Despite your best efforts, a small whimper of fear escapes your lips.
He wipes a tear from your face with a finger. "Now, slave, what do you say?"
"Thank you." Is all you can think to answer.
"Thank you?" He laughs quietly. "You have spirit, my dear. Now let's see what we can do about jogging your memory regarding proper behavior." He caresses your face. "Open your mouth, slave."
With a last bit of defiance you turn your head away from his hand. Strong fingers wrap themselves in your hair and twist, hard. A sharp, stinging blow comes down on your already tender ass. "Open your mouth slave. Now."
You bite down on your lip first to keep from whimpering, and then open your mouth. A soft leather gag is tied behind your head. "Now scream all you want." You can hear the smirk in his voice. You mutter and curse behind the gag, trying to shake it loose. He laughs again. "Like I said slave, you have spirit. I wonder if you'll enjoy watching yourself squirm when I leave you a copy of this." Your squirms become more desperate at the thought that this is actually being recorded, and his laughter echoes in the room.
Suddenly the flogger sears across the backs of your thighs, across your back, even across your face, though much more gently than the other blows. "Just imagine, slave, hundreds of people watching you, seeing you squeal and squirm and beg." You feel your nether cheeks being spread apart and something cool and slippery pushes its way slowly into your rear. You clench up, which only makes it hurt more, then it finally stops. "Good. A perfect fit."
You keep perfectly still, not wanting to give him any further satisfaction. Not wanting to let him know how much you love this, even as you fear it.
He speaks again, quietly. "I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are mine. When that collar is on you every inch of you belongs to me. Everything you are is my possession, to do with as I please. Do you understand?"
You don't answer, can't. You won't give in, not like this...
He pushes harder on the plug and pulls back hard against your hair at the same time, driving his toy deeper into you. "Do you understand?"
It's too much. You try to nod, making noises of acquiescence behind the gag.
"Good. Then let's see what you've learned so far." With one thrust he buries his hard cock in your aching pussy. Your entire body shudders with the sudden pleasure. The sensation of the plug and his cock at the same time is almost overwhelming. You let out a scream from behind the gag and arch your back like a cat, the better to meet his thrusts. Hard, strong hands grip your waist, every thrust harder and deeper. He reaches up and wraps one hand in your hair, the other through a ring on your collar. Using these he pulls himself even deeper into you.
Your body explodes. Waves of pleasure tear through you, threatening to rip you apart. Nothing on earth means anything to you except what you are feeling. Abruptly he pulls out of you, and while you are still writhing in ecstasy, begins beating you almost savagely about your thighs, your back, and your ass. You moan in loss and betrayal behind the gag.
Without stopping he asks in a calm voice, "do you know why you are being punished, slave?" Smack. Smack. Smack. "Do you?" Thwack. "Answer me."
You shake your head wildly, wriggling with every new smack. He stops striking you. "The next time you want to come, you ask me for permission first. If you cannot speak, then you wait till I tell you that you may come. Do you understand yet? Everything you are belongs to me. That includes your pain and your pleasure. You suffer when I will it, and you receive pleasure if I will it. Do you understand?" He removes your gag.
A whispered yes drops from your lips.
"Good." He reaches and taps on the anal plug, causing you to squirm again. "You seem to be handling that quite well. Good little slave" A few light stinging shots on your thighs and back, and then you can sense him behind you again. "Now, what do you say, my pretty little slave?"
You give in completely, and answer with the only thought in your mind. "I am yours to do with as you please, sir."
Slowly, gently, he slides himself inside you again. He takes his time, not wanting to force you to come—and he did force you, that first time—he runs his hands over your back as he slides in and out of you. His hands run up your back to your neck as he leans over to whisper in your ear. "Do you trust me, slave?"
You are stunned. "I...I don't know the right answer, sir."
"The right answer is yes."
You shake as he continues to thrust into you, but answer him truthfully. "I believe I should not lie to you, sir."
His rhythm quickens a little, your body responding automatically. "Then make it he truth, slave. Trust me because I tell you to trust me. Your body is mine, even your life is mine." His hands wrap slowly around your throat, tighter than the collar.
There is a long pause as a thousand emotions run through your mind. Then, "I trust you, sir."
"Good. I always want to hear that before the end." He starts squeezing harder now...it becomes almost impossible to breath. What little air you had in your lungs is quickly spent. Your body responds in panic as he quickens his thrusts. You can feel him deep inside you, filling you. Your head starts to swim; you're losing consciousness. You think to yourself I'm really going to die...he's not going to stop.
When you can't possibly hold on any longer, a cold rush of air fills your lungs as he lets go of your throat and whispers, "come slave. Come for me now."
Writhing and arching you tighten around him and scream as you come. As you arch back against your Master, he thrusts into you, filling you with his come, baptizing you, allowing you to receive it. He continues thrusting into you, having lost none of his manhood. You come, again and again, and again. "Thank you, sir." You hear yourself whisper. You feel the sting of the flogger across your back as he continues thrusting into you, and you into him. Your moans are the last things you are conscious of hearing.
Pain, pleasure, control, power, submission, slave, Master...they all blur in your head as you come yet again, until finally you lose consciousness, from fear, from exhaustion, from pleasure.
Time passes. You don't know how long you've been here.
Suddenly you wake to find yourself in your own bed. For a moment you think, was it all a dream? And then you move. And look. No, the marks are plain all over your body—shackle burns, bruises, whip marks and all—and you ache from your repeated beatings.
Then you see it. Lying there next to you on the pillow is a single red rose lying atop a black videocassette. Under the tape is a piece of paper which reads simply 'I will see you again soon. Enjoy the movie.'
You lie back on the pillow, cradling the rose to your cheek, and fall back into exhausted slumber.