by Tasha Fawkes
She nods.
"What goes on here is not to be discussed with anyone, not even your BFF, Tory, nor your boyfriend, Stewart, nor written about in any personal papers, such as a diary. Understood?"
She nods again and opens her mouth as if to speak, but I hold up my hand. "Let me finish." She nods. "Finally, you should know that you're not the first, and you're not going to be the last woman that I bring here to play with. I'm telling you now that I don't want any indications of jealousy on your part. Understood?"
I know I’m being a little harsh, but these things need to be said. Clarification is important. I made that mistake once, several years ago, and I’m not about to make it again. No strings. No attachments. No obligations.
"I understand," she says quietly. "And I'm doing this for two reasons. One is professional, the other more personal."
"Explain."
"You said that some scenes in my book are wrong, or least not accurate and detailed enough. I want to improve that. I want to hone my skills as a writer. If I'm going to write in that niche, I have to know what I'm talking about."
I nod and gesture for her to continue.
"The other reason, the personal reason, is because I feel… well, I've felt that there's been something missing from my… sexual growth. I can't think of any other way to put it. With Stewart, things are rather…"
"Boring?" She has no idea. Sex with Karen is so typical, so bland, so… routine. Nothing special, nothing passionate, nothing to get overly excited about. Perhaps that's why I indulge myself as frequently as possible in this world. I need some kind of excitement to make me feel alive. To make me feel… like Ashley, I’m not quite sure how to put it. It isn’t just about sex. It’s so much more than that.
"Yes, boring." She glances out the window at the house. "And don't worry, I'm not looking for any attachments." She looks back at me. "I've got enough going on in my life right now without anyone making more expectations on me. I'm here to learn, Daniel. To experience. To explore this world and see whether it's something I can embrace."
"You're not sure?"
She frowns slightly. "Of course, I'm not sure. I've never done this before. How can I be sure of something I've never tried?"
I hold back my smile. I'm glad that she has the confidence to respond honestly. "Okay then. From the moment we go downstairs to the basement, you are my sub. You will do as I say, when I tell you to, and how I tell you to do it. Understood?"
She nods. Satisfied, I turn and open my door, looking forward to the next couple of hours in my playroom.
"In order to gradually introduce you into this world, you have to learn about the authority of the Dom. The Master. Me. In your book, you have a scene where your characters are literally playing on equal ground. In many scenes, it's not that way." She opens her mouth and I hold up my hand. "You will only speak when I give you permission to speak."
She frowns. She will learn, given time. "As you can see, I have a number of tools and objects in here."
She gazes around my basement, carefully decorated and painted to convey an aura of a dark underground shelter. A different world from the brightness and traditional ambience upstairs.
She eyes the table in the middle of the room with a combination of curiosity and wariness. She stares at the two 4x4 posts bolted onto the floor about four feet apart and the bank of mirrors in front of it, taking up much of the long wall. A few hooks and gadgets hang from the ceiling, but we aren't going to go there this afternoon. Not yet. Hooks on the other two walls hold a number of other tools and toys ranging from leather whips to a number of belts, a couple of the spreader bars as I showed her in the hotel room, and even a couple of riding crops. I have paddles of all shapes and sizes. Her eyes widen noticeably when she looks at the hoods, the face masks, and ball gags also hanging from hooks on the wall.
I imagine what she’s thinking when she eyes the gags. I want to soothe her worries, but the moment we entered the basement, I became the Dom and she my sub. "When a gag is used, I'll give you something that you hold onto. See those rubber balls and those small jingle-like bells over there?" I point to a small table in the corner, draped by a black cloth, fitting in to the dark décor of the room. The table holds an assortment of bells and balls of all shapes and sizes, some solid, some not. She nods.
"If a gag is used, I typically offer my sub a ball or a bell. You hold onto that. If a safeword can't be used, dropping the ball or ringing the bell will signal that you're having some type of problem and trigger a time out."
She nods, appearing relieved. I frown. "Those are not to be used lightly. You wanted to be introduced into this world. There is some pain involved, but I don't dole out pain without also rewarding with pleasure. The safeword and the safe tools are only to be used if you experience some trouble like difficulty breathing, or you can't deal with the pain."
She remains silent, eyeing all the items in the room with curiosity. I continue to speak, purposely keeping my tone soft but firm. There will be times when I’ll be rougher, firmer, and more in control, but scaring her off at this point will serve neither of our purposes.
"Whether you're with me or someone else, you need to always be aware of what is acceptable and what is not. A Dom should never strike you in the face." I extend my hand, palm up. "I will deliver soft to moderate open-handed slaps on other parts of your body, but never your face."
She nods, looking up at me, her features calm though the pulse thudding faster now in her throat belies her expression.
"I will never break your skin deliberately. Sometimes, you will experience some chafing, maybe a scratch or some bruising depending on the tools we use, but we'll take care of those after the session or the punishment. Do you understand?"
Again, she nods.
"One more thing. I will never leave you alone if you are bound in any way. Before you indulge in any kind of this activity with anybody else, you better trust them. You better trust them not to do that to you. Is that understood?"
Another nod.
"I know we covered some of these things before, but I want you to understand, and I mean seriously understand, that while the entire purpose of this is bondage and my dominance over you, it's not torture. It's not supposed to be about torture." She looks up at me. "Speak."
"I understand, Daniel."
"I'm not sure you do, at least not yet," I murmur. "Like I said, I noticed a number of errors in your book in regard to types of punishment and domination that you described. Let's just say we'll look at each one and experience each one in turn."
I can tell she wants to ask something. "Speak."
"How many types of punishment are there?"
"This world is more than physical domination. Of course, you're aware that bondage implies restriction. Some Dom's use humiliation on the sub." Her eyebrows lift in question. I hold in my grin. She wants to ask questions. Lots of questions. I decide to indulge her curiosity without giving her another chance to speak. If she can't handle that, she won't be able to handle many other things I consider doing to her. With her.
"I know some Doms subject their subs to several types of humiliation. Some make them eat from a dog dish on the floor. I've known others who urinated or defecated on the sub." She blinks, but other than that I don't see any reaction. "Personally, I find that type of punishment repugnant, and I've never treated my subs to that type of humiliation. But to each his own."
She nods, and I continue. "I am a physical and verbal Dom. In this room, you will always refer to me as Master." Again, she nods. So very eager to please. "I can use any of these tools to portray my physical dominance over you," I say, gesturing to the various tools and gadgets in the room. I take on a firmer tone. "You will do what I say or you will be punished. Understood?"
At first, I think she’s going to smile, but then she changes her mind. Smart. "This isn't a joke. Now’s your chance to change your mind. If you're in this, you're in it one-hundred percent. If you're not, I'll take you home right now."
>
She says nothing. "Speak."
"No… Master, I'm in it, one-hundred percent," she says.
"Good. Then let's get started."
Twelve
Ashley
My heart skips a beat. Here we are. Time to pay up or shut up. Sure, I’m a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be the first time they’re introduced to an actual bondage scene? I’m not sure what to expect. Daniel has been good about explaining some of the ground rules, but talking and doing are two different things.
“So what’s it going to be?”
I look up at him, at first confused. What is he asking me? Which toy I want to play with? I wait for him to give me permission to answer.
"You will answer me when I ask a question."
But he told me not to speak until— "I… I'm not sure—"
"The safeword has to be something that has nothing to do with sex or anything involving any of these activities," he says, gesturing around the room.
A safeword. He’s talking about the safeword. I think about it a moment and then reply, "Apples." He lifts an eyebrow.
"Apples?"
I nod. "I like them, it's a short word, and I don't see any apples in here."
He almost grins. Almost. Then he heaves a heavy sigh and frowns. I’m nervous, no doubt about it. I've never been a submissive before. With Stewart, I typically let him do what he wanted, but it was all very basic, very quick, and he never felt inclined to try something new, different, or anything close to what was hinted at inside this room with Daniel.
How will I react to being spanked? How will I react to having my nipples twisted? It isn't just—
"Get undressed, over there in the corner. Fold your clothes and place them on the chair."
I swallow, look over into the corner, and nod. Making my way over there, I can't stop my heart from trip-hammering with anticipation and yes, I'll admit it, a bit of uncertainty, maybe even a smidgen of fear. I know that Daniel won't hurt me, not in the cruel sense of the word. I have my safeword, and if I don't like what he is doing I can use it and he will stop, right? What if I don't want to do something that he does? What if I have to do something I don't like, and he demands it?
At this very moment, I realize that submission isn't going to be easy, at least on my part. It isn't necessarily about what I want to do. At the same time, I also realize that I can't just throw out the safeword any time I’m hesitant or because I don't want to do something. The safeword is about safety, not about preferences.
I hear him moving around in the room, but I don't turn to look and see what he’s doing. I was told to remove my clothes and fold them neatly, and I did, one at a time. I decide that I will only use the safeword if I feel that my very safety is at risk or if it will cost me some type of physical damage. Daniel already told me that he doesn't approve of some behaviors, and I have to trust him on that. I also sense that he won't be apt to ask me to do something that would be horrible.
Completely disrobed, I stand in the corner facing the wall. I feel a little funny, standing here naked, displaying my ass to the room, but I’m not sure what to do now. Should I turn around and approach, or should I wait for him to tell me to do so? I have a lot to learn. Boy, do I have a lot to learn.
"Come over here."
I turn around and barely refrain from gasping when I see him standing there, next to the upright posts, stripped out of his previous clothes and now wearing what looks like a pair of jogging pants, although quite loose and flowy.
"I said now!"
I startle and tug my glance from his pants up to his face. He isn't smiling. So much for starting out on the right foot.
"Come over here," he says, pointing to the floor between the two posts. Resisting the urge to cover my breasts, I walk toward the posts. What does he think of me, walking toward him, buck-ass naked? Are my breasts large enough? My areolas too dark? Did I shaved my pussy hair acceptably? I never go totally bare down there. After all, I don't want to look like a five-year-old. Stewart wanted me to shave completely, but I felt it was kind of pervy of him to even ask me to do that. I believe I’m groomed neatly enough, shaved short and narrow, but that's as far as I go.
I notice him staring down at the apex of my thighs. He didn’t say anything the first time we had sex in a hotel room. If he asked… no, told me to…shave, would I?
He says nothing as he turns me toward the mirror and then takes one of my hands. He reaches for a leather cuff with sheepskin padding affixed to a foot-long and medium-sized chain. Though I can't imagine what he intends, I watch silently as he buckles the cuff to my wrist and then hooks the chain with a heavy karabiner to an eye-bolt screwed into one of the posts just over head height. He repeats the process with my left hand, and then each of my ankles.
He steps toward a light switch on the wall by the stairs and turns off the lights to the room. Only one light stays on; a recessed, flush-to-ceiling dim light that shines down on the two upright posts and my naked, splayed body, as if I’m standing center stage. I am.
To say that I feel vulnerable is an understatement. He strolls around me, staring at every part of my exposed body. I try to watch him, but the moment I turn my head, he swats my ass and orders me to look at the mirror and not move. I obey. He stops behind me, able to look over the top of my head, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
I barely squelch a yelp of surprise when his fingers grab my ass cheeks and squeeze. Hard, but not hard enough to bring tears. Immediately, all my muscles clench. I have to force myself to relax. Heart pounding, I feel his fingers sliding between my legs, exploring my slit. This time I gasp and shift slightly.
With one hand between my legs, the other grabs a handful of my hair and pulls until my chin lifts toward the ceiling. His voice is thick, and the whisper of his voice wafts against my ear.
"Don't move or you will be punished."
I think the anticipation of what he is going to do, where his hand will roam, is the foundation of an increasing sense of anxiety. Not scared anxiety, but uncertain anxiety. In the next few moments, my uncertainty fades as he stands behind me, his chest pressed against my back. I feel his large, hard erection against my ass crack. He shoves his hips forward, and I brace my feet and resist, trying not to move, as he instructed.
I kept staring at the mirror, not daring to look around though every cell in my body wanted to turn, wanted to wrap my arms around him. That isn't what this is. For a brief second, I feel a surge of disappointment. Will I never be able to hold him? Caress his fine, hard body? Never—
He releases my hair. Both of his hands sweep around my waist and cup my breasts, his thumbs swirling around my nipples. I bite back a moan as an almost electrical stimulus jolts my body, starting behind my breasts and shooting all the way down to my groin. My pleasure disappears when both thumbs and index fingers squeeze my nipples. So sensitive, never experiencing anything like that, I utter another gasp as unexpected and unwanted tears fill my eyes. The startling jolt of pain fades as he immediately swirls the pads of his thumb over my nipples, replacing the pain with soothing pleasure. And then he does it again. Pain, not unbearable, followed by pleasure. After the first time, I’m not so surprised. I realize that while the tweaking and twisting hurts, the expectation of pleasure soon to follow has me actually looking forward to it.
He pauses a moment, and I feel him moving behind me. What is he doing? I feel slick wetness between my legs and my pussy clenches with anticipation. His chest presses against my back again, the heat of his body close to mine. His engorged cock nestles against my ass. No fabric separating us now. He’s warm, huge, and solid.
His cock thrusts between my legs. I stare at it in the mirror as it peaks between my legs. He squeezes my ass once again and then his hands grope my breasts. Pinch, tweak, pull, against my nipples and then his thumbs swirl around them. He begins to move his hips, his cock appearing and disappearing at the apex of my thighs, sliding against my slit, making me wet, hot, and ready. My hands clench, my jaw tight as
I struggle not to make a sound, not to move an inch.
Goose bumps rise on my flesh when his tongue licks at the back of my neck, sending shivers of delight racing down my spine. I absorb every sensation. Not even the hard smacks against my ass can take away the hot pleasure of his tongue trailing down my spine. His body shifts, his cock disappears, but with his left hand still squeezing and plucking at my nipple, his other hand alternately slaps and squeezes my ass cheek. Every once in a while, he moves that hand and strokes it between my legs, eliciting another surge of hot liquid. My pussy contracts. I can't halt the moan that erupts from my chest.
He grabs at my hair and pulls my head back, hard, my jaw once again facing the ceiling. Tears glisten in my eyes. The brief surge of pain disappears when his teeth nibble on my ear, following the next instant by his hot breath against that very same ear.
"If you move again or make a sound, I'll gag you and punish you.”
Shame on me, but I want to know what that’s like. I speak without permission. "Daniel, please—"
"You are to call me Master!"
I can't help but stare at my wide-eyed reflection in the mirror—my eyes shining, my mouth open with desire, my body splayed. I want to see what he’s doing but it’s dark beyond that tiny circle of light. He walks away from me and surprisingly, I feel bereft. My body grows chilled. His warmth and attention drawn away from me, I can only stare into the mirror, trying to discern his shadow in the darkness of the room behind me.
I can't see him. What is he doing? Did he leave? Am I to be punished with his absence? He told me that it was against his rules to leave a sub bound, but where did he go? My pleasure subsides as my worry intensifies. "Daniel? I mean, Master? Where are—"
I hear the crack of sound before I feel it. The sting of leather on the flesh of my ass. I can't deny it. It hurt! But before the sting of the slap dissipates, I feel his cock in between my thighs again, pumping faster.
