He didn’t see it my way. “You’re breathing now, aren’t you?”
“Barely.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, the leather will eventually give a little.”
I had my doubts. As it was, I feared that as much as he’d pushed my flesh to the top of the corset, my nipples might be popping out any moment.
Other than the remarkable exposure of my chest and a back slit that stopped just before the bottom of my rear, the dress was plain, no ornamentation and nothing the least bit feminine about its design. It was a slut’s dress – and that was how he saw me.
I was not invited to dinner, so I waited in my room for his command to bring me to the living room where whatever theater he had in mind would begin. If he was true to his word, this scene would be something plucked from my late night confessions in the den, and could have been any one of a number of possibilities. I mulled it over, but only became more nervous as my mind spun. Trying to clear my head of its wasted imaginings, I turned on the TV and ended up watching some odd reality cooking show – absorbing enough to keep my fear in check.
In a rare move, he texted me when it was time to go downstairs, short and sweet: Twenty seconds, now. The clock was ticking and I flew out of the room and down the stairs, stopping just before I entered, collecting myself in the remaining seconds. Regardless of what fantasy he chose to enact, my role was clear to me. I would not play the sniveling, groveling slave who’d whimper and roll over like a puppy. I’d be the arrogant bitch, here to be tamed by my master. I needed a man strong enough to master me, to take me down, to assure that I would submit – so that I could find the kind of out of control bliss I longed for. A slave, never! Made to submit, yes. The very idea of being that unleashed and free had me anxious, even a bit nauseous with desire as I moved into the room.
“Alexandra.” His voice was flinty and cool. “Tell my guests who you are and why you’re here.”
“I’m told I am an arrogant bitch,” I replied, trying not to sound too bitchy. “I’m here to prove to you that I’m capable of submitting to your command.”
“But there is no humility in your behavior,” he noted.
“My apologies, sir.”
“I don’t need your apologies. I need your surrender. First, you need to earn the respect of these people. To them and to me, you are nothing.”
I bowed my head. “Yes, sir.”
I waited as he paced around the room, furtively following his movements with my eyes. I grew more anxious by the moment – certainly part of his plan. “We’re going to return to one of your favorite fantasies, one you wrote about it in your journal in such rich detail. You love to dance, to turn men on as you do. Am I wrong?”
“No, no sir,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“You even gave us an example of that a couple weeks ago – although that effort was fraught with anguish, as if I were tormenting you. How about you try again, and get real with it.” His face was positively evil as he gave the command, “Dance slut, make us want you.”
This time, there was no music to inspire me, nothing but the eyes and the electricity in the air. I tried to let that feeling get inside me, and so I began to sway my hips. At first, my movements seemed unnatural, a bit too forced and mechanical to be erotic at all. Even worse, I made the mistake of catching Reggie’s eye – the cold, critical stare and the judgment behind it. I was failing in his eyes and was certain that any minute I would be hearing some vindictive comment meant to humiliate me further. I dug in, determined not to let that happen. As if my determination was all I needed, I suddenly heard the sexy music from The Tropics playing inside my head. I imagined myself in that smoky bar, with the glaring pink and green neon flamingo blinking behind me. The tension in my body began to melt and my dancing became more instinctive, less mechanical. I was there in the bar again, the center of my body, my crotch, like a magnet for their eyes. I could sense them looking and as long as I didn’t have to look at the surrounding company of perverts I could maintain that dreamy state and perform. The more I danced, the more daring I became. I played the slut, the tramp, the role that Reggie demanded of me. I cupped my breasts in my hands, pushing my tits higher in the dress until both nipples popped out of the bodice. I pinched them to make them grow erect, and when that was not enough to please me, I dampened them with my fingers and blew on them to chill the pinkish-purple flesh. I fondled myself before their eyes, raised my skirt and squeezed my ass. Then there was music, real music coming from Reggie’s speakers, raw, sexy, reggae syncopation and the beat of tribal drums. My head was swimming, my body oozing lust. I could have entertained them all night like this and loved it – a far cry from my previous attempt.
But above the music and the roar inside my head, came Reggie voice, “Cuff her!” I felt the voice inside my crotch, high between my legs and could have come if he’d only reached up under my skirt and played.
Two men descended on me with wrist and ankle cuffs, and I danced between them as they buckled the cuffs in place.
“On your knees,” I heard that distinctive voice again and dropped to the carpet, to my hand and knees, my body still swaying lewdly. By then, the leather dress was bunched up at the middle leaving my breasts dangling beneath me and my ass entirely naked. “Crawl to Elliot, and remove his cock,” the next instructions.
I found Elliot’s prick already hard; and though I wanted to suck it as soon as I pulled it from his pants, I waited for Reggie’s command before I took it into my mouth. As soon as my lips greeted the swollen head, I heard Elliot speak, “Fuck it, slut,” as he grabbed my head and pushed himself down my throat. I wanted to gag and had to forcefully stop that natural reflex. At least for a few moments he probed me deeply, and I was thankful when he finally backed off a bit and allowed my tongue, and lips and teeth to pleasure him. I ran my tongue around the rim, then down the shaft, then sucked him hard, using my hand and mouth, taking him totally inside, then out again, again and again until I could feel his body starting to tense with the climax on him. Just as he was about to ejaculate, he abruptly pulled out, held my head firmly in one hand and shot his load on my face, letting it splatter everywhere he aimed, until his milky cum ran down my chin and neck and between my breasts. I could feel it tickling me, sticky and thick. The aroma of it rose up around me like a cloud.
“Crawl to the table and mount it,” Reggie’s voice boomed out, and I was nudged by Elliot in that direction, I crawled forward and mounted the hard wood surface, resting there for a moment on hands and knees – but only as long as it took for Gus to arrive at my side with a paddle in hand. The smooth wood was about four inches wide, and from the moment it connected with my ass, it sent sharp stinging jolts of warm pain through me in every direction. He smacked my bottom with as ruthless a stroke as he’d strapped it days before. I thought he’d never stop, and though I attempted to keep quiet, the pain soon became so biting that I couldn’t stop myself from crying out. When he paused for even a second or two, the pain immediately became erotic. I swayed my hips, inviting him to fondle me.
“You selfish little slut!” Gus snarled at my display and then whacked me even harder. I knew the man enough to know that he loved every minute of my torment – and strangely I did too.
Then a twist on the scene I did not anticipate. Reggie’s voice again. “She’s yours to auction.”
My body instantly recoiled, and I’m quite sure that I gasped, “On no,” loud enough to be heard, but maybe not. I would have expected another smack of the wooden paddle but there was none, no response at all.
Gus took over from there, while Reggie returned to the side of the room to watch his drama unfold.
“Go get me the gag, the hood and the collar, and bring them back in your teeth,” Gus demanded, as he nodded to the cabinet of sex toys on the far side of the room.
My ass was smarting from the warming it suffered, which generated a sensuous tightness as I moved off the table and made the slow crawl across the room. The items required were waiting for me on the
floor, and I snatched them like a dog would a bone and crawled back to the waiting Gus. By the time that long crawl was over, I’d become meek, lowly and subservient. As amenable as a sleepy child, I let a buxom blonde dominatrix fit the hood over my head and fasten it to the connecting collar she buckled around my throat. Every small act reduced me further, and once she pushed the ballgag into my mouth, I couldn’t see and I couldn’t speak. Another lesson in surrender.
“Stand,” I heard the command.
Moving was painfully awkward, and I felt so disoriented that I was getting a bit light-headed. I must have looked like a clumsy, feeble slave to the watching audience.
“Now on the platform.”
I reached out for someone to assist me, and when there was no help offered, I shuffled forward until I stubbed my toes on a block of wood and stumbled forward, catching myself on the wooden platform. Gus smacked my ass impatiently. “Get moving!” I was just angry enough at this cruel treatment to scramble up on the platform and bring myself upright – hoping all the while that I wasn’t too close to the edge.
“Arms up,” Gus ordered. “Spread your feet.” I followed his order only to have him snap off a terse, “Wider,” as he tapped the insides of my thighs with some sort of implement. My wrists were bound above me as they’d been that day in the den. With my legs spread so widely, I could barely move.
Suddenly, spotlights blazed against my skin, three, maybe or five of them, it was difficult to tell. The heat felt like scorching flames, and within seconds, I was sweating profusely. The leather dress was tight and sticky, and the cum drying between my breasts itched with an intolerable irritation that wouldn’t be soothed.
“She’s yours to use,” Gus announced, his voice cruel and meant to cut. “Whoever wishes to begin the torture start bidding.”
“Seventy-five.”
“One-hundred.”
“Two-hundred.”
Numbers barked from all corners of the room in rapid succession.
“Let’s see her body,” one bellowed.
Gus ripped at the strings of my dress, pulling the knot loose and allowing the sides of leather to burst open and my breasts spill out.
“Two fifty.”
“Three hundred.”
“More skin!” someone shouted.
The laces that held the dress together were quickly loosened, and the entire thing torn away. Naked. On display. Exposed to every eye in the room. I’d been exhibited like this before, but never so anonymously. In many ways that anonymity was comforting – a divine oblivion where it became unnecessary to think. Nothing touched me, not the shouting about the room, the bids, the humiliation, the scorn of Gus’s taunting. I’d been reduced to my elemental self, the animal of my nature craving only one thing – stimulation.
“Seven hundred and fifty.” Another voice rang out, a familiar one, though I couldn’t immediately identify its owner. It left me with a cold chill. The auction was over and the room went perfectly still. No shouts, no bids, no taunts, no whispers.
Remove the hood,” I heard Reggie say. “And the gag. You can see who purchased you.”
The hood came off and then the gag. I was relieved to come back to myself again, but at first the bright lights blinded my eyes and I couldn’t see a thing. A figure in front of me faded in and out, and though I tried to see through the intense light, that was nearly impossible to do until the lights began to dim. As my delirium lifted and my eyes finally adjusted, I could make out the face of the man who would own me for the night.
There, cold as ice, no flashing smile, no dashing love-filled eyes, there, as cold as Reggie himself, was Will, standing in front of me clothed in a self-imposed blanket of frost.
Holding out his hand, he helped me from the platform. Then it was a terse, “Down slut!” as he pushed me to the carpet and I was once again on hands and knees. “Crawl!” his next order.
My wrists were still bound which made the crawling difficult. However, that was of no concern to him. Once I circled the room and returned to his feet, he pushed my shoulders and head to the floor with his foot. I recognized the worn cowboy boots. The creases. The scuffed toes. They’d been broken in a long time ago.
Leather cracked against my bare ass. Will’s disgusted, “Fucking bitch,” made me wince. I’d never felt such scorn from him, never been called a ‘fucking bitch’. It was personal and it hurt, and I wanted to cry.
“You call me sir when I speak to you,” he said, as the leather struck my ass again.
“Yes, sir,” I answered in a breathy whisper.
“Louder, slut.” And another snap of the leather landed squarely across my ass cheeks.
“Yes, sir,” I practically shouted.
He shoved me over with his foot, so I was looking up at his cold face.
“Do you see this?” he asked, holding a leather paddle in front of my eyes.
“Yes.”
He cracked the leather hard against my thigh. “What was that?”
The searing pain made me almost cry. “Yes, sir!”
“This is to correct you. When you understand what submission means, our drama stops, not before.”
Will laid me back against Reggie’s large coffee table, where my legs and arms were spread out wide beyond the table and ropes were attached to the rings in my cuffs. By the time they had me stretched wide and tied off, I felt like a pinned insect. No room to move this time.
I saw Reggie watching from nearby. His face and my desire for him haunted me. I had wanted his mastery and yet once again I’d been denied that fervent wish. And Will, my dear Will, now cold as winter, ordering my torture – something had gone amiss. My body heat was rising and desire burned strong in my gut. But I was confused. I didn’t know which master I desired most. Why were they doing this to me?
Will looked down at me, half scowling. “You think you can survive this without screaming?”
I shook my head without actually realizing what I was telling him.
“Then you’ll have to be gagged,” he said. And before I could correct myself, the gag went back in my mouth.
My body struggled against the bondage, as much as my mind struggled with the circumstances of this awful ordeal. But as soon as the clamps went on my nipples and the pain began, my mind emptied.
I closed my eyes and let the punishment come.
For a time it seemed as if a dozen straps, crops, floggers and crops were laid against my flesh, skinny, wide, soft, hard, caressing and biting. Each left a new sensation, each different, each adding to the raw arousal burning in my crotch. I writhed with pain and want intermingling freely. A deep satisfaction gained hold of me, and though I was frantic and confused, my body begged for more with its wild gyrations, with the way my pussy lifted off the table as if urging my tormentors on. I screamed into the gag, then fell back and moaned. I could feel the climax on me, as close as Will himself. Though just as soon as I was at that critical moment just before the crash, something happened to draw me down – the torment stopped, an intensely sharp pain pulled me from subspace. Will taunted me this way again and again as if he were settling a score, taking his revenge for every bit of pain I’d caused him. If that was his aim, there was much to atone for.
I could feel the climax on me, about to crest beyond the point of no return. As ready as I was, I was abruptly foiled again. Tethers were loosened, my body freed from bondage and then jostled about until I was on hands and knees again on the floor this time. Elliot lay beneath me with his cock prodding at my cunt, then as soon as it slipped inside, another man was greasing up my ass and pressing the head of his penis into my backdoor. They freed me from the ballgag but only so that a third man could shove his cock into my mouth.
Surrender came on me fast, total and complete. I gave up any fight as I was banged about with the three men vying to take their pleasure. For a while I was far beyond them in another place, moons beyond this world, then I was back in my body where the reality of their fierce assault was bringing me to the edge
of climax again. It came on me in crashing waves, in brutal spasms, from every part of my well-fucked body. They spent themselves inside me, one after the other, come in every orifice. Endless.
I disappeared again as if withering into nothing. So spent. So weary. And still the orgasm played through me, not one but many, going on as long as there was even the smallest stimulation, and even after when there was none at all. Perhaps I passed out.
Next thing I knew I was lying on the carpet on my side, alone. The ballgag gone. The cuffs removed. All I knew was my own breathing, and with each breath I was reminded of the rapture that had taken me away.
I heard the voices first. Just voices.
And then the light of the room. It was pale, almost gray in contrast to where I’d been. And the people. They were like strangers but curiously familiar, and closing in around me. I almost forgot where I was. The hands that moved across my body were warm and tender, nurturing. I knew by the scent of him that Will was behind me – it had been Will in my ass, very fitting. And now it was Will pleasuring me with his tender touch, his lips on my ear, his kisses along my neck. I was all body in one sensuous cocoon of satisfied bodies around me. I didn’t even try to understand why this was happening. But there was nothing here to shame me or tell this was wrong; there was nothing but pure joy. A blanket of satisfaction descended on me and I was at peace with myself in a way I’d never been.
I gazed at my captors and tormentors, at my lovers, and at Will, oh yes, Will, thinking of nothing but how perfect this moment was. How they had all been exactly what my fantasies dreamed of, and how intimately loved I was now. Something magical had brought them together to make this happen.
Feeling immense gratitude I searched for the author of this scene amongst the crowd. But he wasn’t among the naked and the half-dressed, or even those who sat just a few feet off on the sidelines watching. I looked up further to find him at the living room door.
He stood alone. Clothed and apart from the rest.
What pierced my peace and satisfaction was not the coldness I’d grown to expect from Reggie, but his sadness. Fleeting, yes. It disappeared quickly; but for a moment I saw it in his eyes and felt it weighing him down. That sadness brought me back to my desire; the desire beyond the physical pleasure to know this man, to have him, possess him and make him mine. In my desire for Reggie, I forgot about what had just taken place. I forgot about Will and the others, about the satisfaction they gave me. I turned instead toward my master, my only master, to Reggie, longing for him still.
The Alexandra Series Page 17
