The First Session

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First Session

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.

"No, what?"

"No, sir."

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

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WEITERGEBEN
Written by marcus_leblanc
Hochgeladen September 17, 2020
Notes 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....
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