by Paul Blades
They did a lot of talking. Sometimes, Paula would wonder where the time had gone. They would talk about D/s relationships, what it meant to both of them. Every once in a while, she would emerge from these conversations overwhelmed, like her brain was trying to process the information Victor was giving her. From time to time, he would say something and she would be lost in a momentary fog, not really having caught what he had said. His voice was mellow and mesmerizing. She felt like she could listen to it forever.
And then one night, after a sumptuous dinner at one of the new, trendy restaurants in midtown, he asked her if she wanted to go back to his apartment. They had been talking about something, Paula could not really remember what it was. He had said something and she had lost her train of thought. When he asked her to go to his place, her pussy melted and a wave of lust went through her. She answered ‘yes’.
He lived on the seventh floor of a high rise on the East Side. It had a balcony that overlooked the river. Paula had never been in such a large, sumptuous apartment in New York, or anywhere for that matter. The living room was expansive, with large picture windows. The furniture was elegant, two soft, luxurious sofas and three matching easy chairs. The dining room contained a magnificent breakfront, a fine, dark maple table and chairs. He showed her the bedroom, just a glance from outside. It had a wide bed with an over stuffed, lavender comforter on it. She noticed a brass ring installed in the headboard and shivered with lust.
The last room he showed her was what he described as his ‘fun room’. When he opened the door, Paula took in her breath. There were various whips arrayed on the walls, a whipping post, several other devices for confining the human body, a small cage with narrow, black bars and a light oak armoire that Paula imagined held unimaginable implements of pain and subjugation.
“Just so you know that I’m serious about this whole thing,” he told her.
They went back to the living room and he got her a glass of wine. They chatted a bit. The tension in the room was palpable. Paula’s throat was dry. Victor said something. She was looking out the window at the skyline across the river and had to turn back to hear what he was saying.
“Paula,” he said then, “over the past few weeks I’ve become sure that you’re the person meant for me. I need to know if you are ready to take the first step.”
She took a gulp of her wine and put the glass down on the end table. She looked at him intently. Was she ready? She wanted to fuck him with all of her heart. That was for sure. But what did he mean by the first step? Was he going to whip her? She wasn’t ready for that. Would he tie her up and fuck her? That would be okay. She decided to take the great leap. If he demanded something she couldn’t handle yet, she would let him know. She had to get off the fence. This was the best chance she would ever have to get what she wanted, what she needed.
“I’m ready, Victor,” she said. She could hear the tremble in her voice. Her hands were shaking. Her mouth was dry and she had a quivering feeling in her belly. But her pussy was alive with desire. Her breasts ached. She felt light headed.
“Okay, Paula,” Victor said, his voice strong and decisive. “I want you to stand up and take off all of your clothes. When you’re done, I want you to come over here to me and get on your knees, thighs wide, your hands behind your back. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Victor,” she mumbled.
“When we’re here in my apartment, Paula, I want you to call me ‘sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied timidly.
She was wearing a short sleeved, white peasant’s blouse, low cut, with delicate flowers embroidered under the opening of the bodice. Her skirt was long, a mixture of dark reds and oranges. She was wearing low heeled sandals.
The skirt went first. She stood up, stepped into the center of the room and unclasped it on the side. She lowered the zipper and pulled it down off of her graceful hips. Her eyes glued to his, she stepped out of it and tossed it casually away. She was wearing white bikini panties. New ones, thank god, she thought. Her legs were long and her thighs firm and soft. Her waist was narrow and her hips were a trifle broad, giving her figure a nice hourglass shape. Victor’s eyes drank her in. She shivered.
Next came the blouse. She pulled it up over her head, shaking her hair free once it was off. She tossed it to the side. Her full breasts were confined by a delicate, lacy, strapless bra that just covered her stiffened nipples. When she moved, the flesh of her breasts quivered slightly. Without pausing, she reached around her back and undid the clasps that held it on. It loosened and she drew it off. Her breasts sprung free. She was proud of her breasts and arched her back slightly to give them the center of Victor’s attention. His eyes appeared to feast on them.
Before she removed her panties, she crouched down and unbuckled her sandals. Her heavy breasts swayed enticingly. After slipping off her sandals, she stood up and hooked her thumbs inside the waist band of her panties. “This is it,” she thought to herself. “This is the moment of surrender.” She slowly slid the panties down her thighs. When they reached her ankles, she stepped out of them.
She stood there for a moment in all of her glory. Her pussy was wet and burning. She had commenced the practice of trimming her wiry pussy hair many years ago and she knew that her love lips were standing out prominently. Her heart was beating wildly. After her pause, she stepped slowly over to where Victor sat on one of his plush couches and knelt down before him. She spread her thighs as wide as they would go and placed her wrists on her back just above her hips. She looked up at her master. She was so happy that she began to cry. It was finally, finally happening.
“You’re so beautiful,” Victor told her, his voice hushed. He leaned over and, taking her head between his hands, placed his lips on hers. They had kissed often before this, sometimes hot and heavy. But the electricity she felt flow through her at that moment was like nothing she had ever experienced. Their tongues met and heat flowed through her loins. She yearned to put her arms around him, to draw his body next to hers, but she knew better. He was in control. He would tell her what to do.
Victor broke their kiss and looked at her lustfully. He ran his hands down her shoulders and over her breasts. She shuddered when he touched them and moaned lowly when he began to massage them gently. He took her stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinched them, first soft and then harder and harder until she let out a moan of gratified pain. He smiled at her and then leaned over and took her nipples into his mouth, one after the other, suckling on them, running his agile tongue over them, possessing them.
Paula moaned as the pleasure from Victor’s attentions wafted through her. He said something that she didn’t catch and then told her to get down on her hands and knees. When she had obeyed, he got down on the floor next to her and ran his right hand over her extended back while his left took possession of her dangling breasts. His right hand caressed her rear cheeks and then brushed down the backs of her thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he told her.
She drew her legs further apart and she felt his hand delve between her trembling thighs. He caressed the tender skin slowly, gently and then flitted his hand over her leaking crevasse. As he continued the mesmerizing caresses to her breasts, he placed a finger between her engorged outer labia and slid it the length of her divide. Paula groaned with need. When he slipped his fingers inside her, thrusting them slowly in and out, Paula thought that she would faint. He spread her moisture over her rigid clit and began a slow, gentle massage, stopping occasionally to dip his nimble fingers into her slice and seek out that sensitive spot at the roof of her flush, tight cavern.
Paula’s mind fogged up with lust. The whole world became the man’s firm, knowing hands. He was whispering something to her, but her attention was focused solely on her growing need. She leaned her head back. “Ohhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!”
“Do you want to come, slave,” Victor whispered in her ear.
“Ohhhhhh! Yes! Yes!” she r
eplied wildly.
“Ask me to make you come. Say, ‘Please make me come, master.’”
“Oh, god! Please make me come, master! Please!”
“Yes, come for me, slave! Come for your master!” His hand began a fevered caress of her loins. He pressed down on her clit, rotating his hand, his thumb buried in her puss.
“Come for master, slave! Come now!”
Paula’s pussy began obediently to convulse with pleasure. It throbbed and throbbed, sending ecstatic waves of joy through her body. “Ohhhhhhhh! Yessssss! Ohhhhhhhhhh! Yesssssss!” she exclaimed. Her body was shuddering uncontrollably. She could no longer hold her body up and her arms collapsed, her head falling to the soft, plush rug. Her hips held high, she thrust them back and forth against the hand that tormented her. “Ohhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh” she called out.
When she recovered from her mind blowing bliss, Victor was whispering something in her ear. Slowly, his voice came into focus. “Good girl,” he was saying. “Good little slave girl,”
That was all they did that first night. The next night, several days later, he had her undress as soon as she came into the apartment. He had a collar for her, a silver collar that locked together around her neck. It had a heavy silver ring in front and back. He made her take him with her mouth, naked and on her knees between his legs as he sat on the couch. Then he made her get down on her hands and knees and again brought her off with his hand, murmuring vague, sweet sounding things in her ear.
After she dressed, and before she left to go home, her new, shiny collar still around her beautiful neck, he made her kneel before him. He showed her a whip. It was a narrow, leather encased riding crop. He tapped it in his hand several times. “This is for next time, Paula,” he told her. “I’m going to whip you hard until you scream with pain. Then I’m going to take you in my bedroom and fuck you. So if you’re not ready for that, don’t come at all. Do you understand?”
A wave of fear passed through her as she stared at the implement of pain. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice just audible.
He set the next session for a week from then. It was all that Paula could think about. She thought of it in the morning when she took her shower. She thought of it on the subway on her way to work. She thought of it constantly throughout the day. But she thought of it mostly at night as she was going to bed. Just the thought of it made her pussy hot. And she had wild, exuberant orgasms imagining the sensation of the whip striking her flesh.
Three times during the week Victor called her. He was bright and cheery. He didn’t mention the whip or anything about their next encounter, but he did say something that she had to get him to repeat several times. When he hung up the phone, she still couldn’t figure out what he was saying.
There was no question in her mind but that she would go. Although the idea of being beaten frightened her, she knew that is was what she wanted. Each time she had spoken to Victor during the week, her resolve to meet the test he was imposing on her grew stronger.
When she arrived at his apartment that night, a little after eight o’clock, the riding crop was sitting on the clear glass coffee table in the living room. Her heart started to pound right away. Her fingers were sweaty and trembled as she struggled to remove her clothes: a light blue, flowered spring dress, her panties and bra. Victor stood there and watched. When she was done, she knelt down and he installed her collar.
“Go to the middle of the room, kneel down with your forehead on the rug,” he told her. “Put your arms at your sides.”
Shaking with fear, Paula obediently did what she had been told. When she was in position, her heart beating rapidly, her body shedding sweat, Victor came over to her and crouched down beside her. He was wearing black, cotton pants, a light sea green polo shirt and black shoes. He rubbed his hand over her naked back soothingly. In her near panic she didn’t catch what he said to her, but it calmed her down somewhat.
“Kneel up for a second,” he told her. Paula obeyed. There were already tears in her eyes. He pulled from his pocket a red rubber ball attached to a leather strap. Paula knew what it was right away. She had seen it on the Internet a hundred times. She had almost bought one once, just to see what it was like.
“Open your mouth,” Victor told her. She parted her trembling lips. The red ball slipped easily into her mouth, spreading her jaws widely, depressing her tongue. When Victor belted the strap behind her head, he gave it a hard tug and the ball sank deeper into her mouth. When he was done, he told her to resume her position.
Victor stood and retrieved the riding crop from the coffee table. He rubbed it down the length of her back, making her shiver with fright. She sensed him stepping away from her and then she heard its faint whistle through the air.
When it struck, it was like a meteor had skidded across her rear cheeks. “Awwwwwwwwwwww!” she screamed. She had never experienced such intense, sudden pain. She started to cry. Victor hadn’t told her how many times he was going to whip her. She felt nauseous. She heard the whistle again.
The kiss of the whip made a loud, ‘smack!’ as it struck her skin. She wailed as loud as she could. The rubber ball suppressed most of the sound, but in her head it was as loud as a siren. Three more times he struck her. Each time, fire erupted across her proffered ass. She was sorely tempted to get up and run away rather than face more pain. It took all of her strength to stay in place and accept what her master decided was her due.
After the fifth blow, Victor put the whip down in front of her. He crouched down and, placing his hand on her back once again, whispered something in her ear which comforted her. She had been sobbing uncontrollably, but her sobs wound down as his words permeated into her mind. He reached behind her head and unbuckled the strap to the gag. Paula’s resolving sobs became momentarily louder when the red ball was removed. Victor pointed down to the whip. “Kiss it,” he commanded.
Paula leaned her head forward and placed her lips on the instrument of her torment. When he proffered her his hand, she smothered it with kisses. He said something to her she didn’t understand and followed it up by saying, “Good Girl. Good girl.”
He had her crawl to the bedroom on her hands and knees. The sheet and covers were all turned down, ready for their bout of love. She climbed up at Vincent’s instructions, and then watched expectantly as he removed his clothes. She had never seen him naked. His chest was covered by a modicum of black, curly hair. His stomach was taut, his thighs thick and firm. She had seen his cock before, once, last week when she had sucked him off. Her pussy yearned for it to be inside her. Her whole being craved contact with his skin. She had suffered for his love and now wanted to receive it.
His cock was thick and hard when he lay down on the bed next to her. He had in his hand a long, leather thong. He fastened her wrists together and then tied them to the ring in the headboard. He leaned over her, smiling, his hand brushing her hair. His kissed the side of her face and whispered something in her ear.
Afterwards, Paula had only the vaguest recollection of their lovemaking. It was as if she had experienced the whole thing through a fog. She remembered reaching wild heights of pleasure. He had placed his lips on her place of love and lapped and suckled until she screamed from joy. He had mounted her, his thick cock pressing aside her outer lips, plunging deep into her fevered entrance. He kissed her breasts, intertwined his tongue with hers, spread his hands over every inch of her body. She recalled him fucking her from behind, her face pressed down against the mattress, her hips raised up high receptively. One distinct memory that she had was when she was on her back and he was inside her. He had slid his arms underneath her thighs and pushed her legs to that they were bent back, her knees crushing her hot breasts. He was pounding away madly at her. He said something and it triggered an explosive orgasm, the longest and most intense she had ever had.
That night, she slept in his arms.
Their relationship seemed to become more torrid every time that they met. It was not long before he showed her into his p
lay room and whipped her viciously while she stood naked with her hands raised above her head. There was no need for a gag since the room was soundproofed. After about a month, she was deeply into her slavery to him. She thought of nothing all day but how she was going to please him. He would call while she was at work, whisper something to her and she would get so excited that she had to dash to the ladies room afterwards and get herself off.
She spent long periods of time bound helpless on the floor of his living room while he went out. He had supplied her with ankle and wrist cuffs to match her collar. Her orders were to return to his apartment every day after work. If he was not there, and he rarely was, she would install the ball gag, fasten her ankle and wrist bracelets together and wait for him lying in the middle of the floor on the soft rug. Her wrist bracelets had clasps so that she could stretch her arms behind her back and lock them together by clicking them against one another.
And then there was the cage. On nights when he expected company, he ordered her to lock herself into the cage in the fun room. She would eat a small snack, fill the plastic bottle that hung outside of it with water, use the bathroom and then lock herself inside. Once in, she would clasp her bracelets together behind her back and await his pleasure.
Once he had a party and she was ordered to be the server. She had been nervous about being naked in front of so many people, but they had a little talk about it, some of which flew right by her, and she felt better about it afterwards. It seemed that they spent long times talking, he did anyway, but she didn’t remember too much of what was said. The night he brought back one of the women who was enslaved to him for her to fuck, they had a long, long talk. She remembered that they had been talking about it for a long time.
When the woman arrived, she disrobed immediately and assumed a slave pose. Within minutes Paula and the beautiful, unnamed woman were wrestling each other on the floor of the living room. Paula was shocked how good it was when she got her first taste of pussy juice. She came three or four times, she couldn’t remember. After that, at least twice a week, one of Victor’s other women would come by and they would fuck. When they were done, Victor would have the attractive young lady suck him off and then leave. But there was always some left over for Paula.
