“Oh yes.” David’s voice was close to her now. He touched her back and she felt a strip of tape being pressed across the thin material of her open blouse. She was now labelled and she had no way of knowing what her sign said. He lowered his hand and she felt a finger move up the seam of her stocking. “She’s been very bad.”
There was something devilishly tantalising about the way he led his fingers in slow deliberate paths up her thighs and along the marks and welts on her buttocks. Each touch rekindled some of the fire of the original beating and she felt her heart pounding fast in her chest. The scene now had so many of the things that excited her. She was in one of the most humiliating punishment positions she could imagine, she was on public display and now she had the slow curious excitement of trying to guess what was written on the sign on her back.
Disappointment hit her as her lover took his hand away and stood. “Well. She needs some punishment time now. We should leave her.” The older couple respectfully agreed and she found herself alone. The muscles all down her back were starting to strain but there was plenty to keep her in a dreamy sort of subspace. Time seemed to melt but the slow burning excitement kept smouldering in her belly and between her legs. Her nipples remained hard inside her thin blouse and she waited. She waited for her lover to return and her body stayed wet and ready for his touch.
It was perhaps a little more than ten minutes later when she sensed movement near her and heard his voice again. “I hope you’re beginning to learn some better behaviour.”
She whispered her answer as softly as possible, being careful to keep her neck still and the coin held firmly against the stage. “Yes master.” There was a dull ache growing in her lower back and shoulders now from the strain of holding her body taught. As he knelt at her side gently stroking the inside of her thighs she became conflicted. The humiliation was intensely arousing but as the muscle tightness developed into pain part of her began to crave release.
As if reading her mind he reached forward and took hold of the edges of the coin. “You can move backwards now. Slowly lower your head and roll it to loosen out the muscles.” With great relief she did exactly as she’d been told. A few gentle sweeps of the head and small circles of the waist and the built up tension drained from her body. She was just enjoying the temporary freedom of movement when he reached down and took hold of the chain that hung from her collar. “Now, on your hands and knees. Follow me.”
He led her through the groups of people that were milling around in front of the stage and she followed as quickly as she could. After a short crawl she arrived at a second lower platform at the back of the room. When she mounted the steps she found herself crawling along a row of red velvet sofas. By glancing up at the figures on the comfortable divans and catching glances of slaves lying below them she guessed that it was a place for the dominants to relax while their submissives licked and worshipped their feet.
Her master stopped and pushed her head down until her forehead was touching the floor. She heard him talking and by catching a few words and phrases worked out that he was negotiating a place on one of the couches. Her heart leaped when she realised that she was being negotiated as part of the deal. She heard the word ‘slave’ repeated a few times and then the phrase ‘foot worship’. While she waited with her head obediently and submissively pressed against the dusty wooden floorboards she felt her excitement rising again. There were another couple of males and a female involved in the conversation and she was certain that she was being offered to all of them. Crawling at the feet of strangers had always been a frequent fantasy of hers and now that it was going to happen she felt herself buzzing with anticipation.
Her chain jangled as her master manoeuvred himself down onto the sofa then she was tugged forward to his feet. His leather boot appeared in her line of vision as he thrust it in front of her. “Kiss and keep kissing until I tell you to stop.”
She quickly obeyed. With her hands held tightly behind her back she began planting small tender pecks onto the soft leather upper. She worked diligently and enthusiastically for several minutes, certain that the others sitting drinking on the divans were studying her. Her skirt was still tucked into her waist band and with each bowing motion she was aware that she was revealing her intimate self to everybody milling around the platform. The thought thrilled her and she opened her legs wider with each bend. If they wanted to see then why not give them a good look?
As she visualized her stocking tops and exposed buttocks she remembered that she still had the paper sign on her back and let her mind run over the possibilities of what might be written there. It could just say ‘naughty slave’ or ‘bad slave’ but was more likely to include a more humiliating term, perhaps ‘bad slut’ or something even stronger. Wearing the label in public was deeply thrilling and she was drifting into the moment, becoming lost in an erotic trance when her chain tightened and she was pulled gently but firmly sideways. “This gentleman needs his footwear worshipped too.”
She shuffled to her right and immediately recognised the distinctive black brogues of the man they’d met on their first circuit of the club. When she heard his voice her suspicion was confirmed, it was deep and rich with a strong cockney accent that meant although he was speaking softly and intelligently there was a macho toughness to his comments. After only a few seconds she found herself kissing the patterned toecap with a devotion that shocked her. Her only disappointment in serving this handsome charismatic man was that she would have like to be facing away. The tipsy, excited exhibitionist in her wanted to be exposing herself to him; opening her most intimate folds with every kiss.
He didn’t address her while she worshipped his highly polished shoes with her lips. She heard the masters discussing the acts that had appeared on the stage and found herself sulking that they were not appraising her.
When she’d covered each shoe with kisses several times she was tugged past her master and towards a woman who had been taking part in the conversation. As she moved she turned fully rather than shuffling sideways, arching her back and displaying her nakedness to the unknown master. It was quite shameless but she knew why she was behaving this way. This was part of her. This was her sexuality. She had always wanted to do this and the thought of that man staring at her exposed body and finding himself aroused by it was powerfully stimulating.
The woman was wearing stockings and an exquisite pair of red patent leather sling backs with tiny crystal bows on the straps. She kissed the plastic surface of the footwear, all the time examining her feelings about kneeling and serving another female. It was more exciting that she would have thought. Being humiliated in front of other girls had always been a fantasy but it was usually pushed out by the idea of serving a man. As she looked up at the long shapely legs above her she found she had no problem at all serving a mistress. Things got even better when the lady commanded her to remove her shoes. She quickly worked open the straps and then a stockinged foot was thrust hard into her mouth. The pleasure was unexpected. She managed to take the full width of the appendage and it created a slight gagging sensation that made her feel violated and full in a deliciously wicked and kinky way. Added to the physical sensation was the explosion of smell and taste. Under the scent of leather and nylon there was the faint salty flavour of the woman’s sweat and it was stimulating in an undeniably basic and primitive way.
Her female mistress was more demanding than the men. She kept the task difficult by always thrusting her foot hard forward then moving her leg from side to side. Siobhan coped well, keeping all five toes in her mouth and managing small licks of the tongue while she kept track of her temporary mistress’s leg. Just as some small part of her was beginning to resent the dominatrix’s relentless aggression she heard her voice from somewhere high above her. “She is an excellent slave, well done. You can have her back now.” There was the rattling of chain and she was passed back. She was in service to her lover again and he had one more surprise for her.
Out of the corner o
f her eye she saw him stretch out a single leather encased leg and pull her onto it. Using gentle tugs on her lead he pulled her up until she was straddling his thigh. With her arms still held tightly behind her back and her head bowed she managed to find a balanced position astride his thigh. Using the tension of her chain he kept her perfectly poised on her tiptoes then started to gently flex his muscles in time to the music.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d positioned her so that her crotch was pressing against him. The many hours of stimulation were still tingling inside her and the slightest tremors sent waves of pleasure up through her body. After just a short while she knew she was leaving a smooth slickness of her moisture on his leather trousers. Her own sluttish excitement would be revealed to all around them when he stood and she found the thought both deeply humiliating and arousing.
Her predicament soon became more intense. The dance music switched to a faster tempo and she found herself struggling to stay upright. The pressure against her wet crotch increased and she was effectively riding her lover’s leg as if it were a horse. Just a few minutes into the new song she felt her own climax beginning to rise through her trembling muscles. Her breathing had already broken into a loud pant and she’d closed her eyes and was biting her lip in anticipation of her own sexual release. But it was not to be. Her master had been studying her closely and chose that exact moment to put his hands firmly on her shoulders and push her down onto the floor in a kneeling position. Desperately aroused and with her heart beating hard in a chest she knelt and waited for his next command. There was a faint ripping sound and she felt the paper being torn from her back. He laid the sign on the floor and left her staring at the simple statement; I’m a filthy slut and deserve to be punished. The words gave her a secret thrill. She was glad she’d been made to wear such an obviously humiliating label because it was true. She felt totally sluttish and had loved being punished by her lover. As she thought of him his hand brushed her hair line then he lent forward and planted a series of hot tender kisses down her forehead and cheek. “Are you ready to go now slave?”
Her own voice was faint and breathy in her ears. “Yes master.” He needed no further invitation and after he had exchanged quick farewells with his fellow dominants he led her across the big room towards the exit. A few minutes later they were both outside wrapped tightly in their overcoats waiting for a taxi.
The low diesel engine throb chugged away into the silence of the night and they stood for a while in the silence of the shared hallway. He didn’t hit the main light switch but kept them in the half-lit gloom. At that moment she wanted him more than ever before and he seemed to read her mind. He pushed her gently towards the stairs and positioned her hands on the fourth step. She smiled as she looked at her splayed fingers and the leather cuffs on her wrists. There was a tantalising brush of cool air as he lifted her coat and her skirt. She braced her legs and his fingers found her and were instantly inside her smooth hot slit. She gasped and pushed against him with his other hand she heard him undoing his trousers then one strong arm was hooked around her waist and he was thrusting himself inside her. The hours of teasing and torment had been worth it. She let out loud gasps of excitement and he thrust his sex scented fingers in her mouth to try to silence her. He read her arousal carefully, managing to time his own climax with hers so that they came together then fell hot and breathless into each other’s arms on the staircase. She kissed the stubbly line of his jaw and found that she had a huge grin she could not suppress. He returned her kisses then met her gaze. “Did you enjoy that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Enjoy it? I fucking loved it.”
He nodded then stood and gathered her up in his arms. “Yeah, me too. You were absolutely fantastic. Now let’s get to bed before someone comes out and finds this.”
Just a few minutes later, after a minimum of face washing and tooth brushing, they were lying back in each other’s arms in their warm comfortable bed. He held her face and kissed him passionately on the mouth. “So you really definitely liked that?” She nodded. “Good. I’ve got some more for you. Even more extreme.”
She kissed his cheek then fell back exhausted against a soft pillow. Yes! Bring it on! That was what she wanted. She wanted more intensity and she wanted more excitement and that was exactly what she was going to get.
Chapter Two
The First Hot Pulses
She had always wanted to be tied and dominated. For a long time she’d thought that all girls were the same. She had assumed that the point of the princess stories was that the young maidens got captured and chained up because they enjoyed it. What better than to dress up in huge silky dresses then get chained to a wall by a handsome prince? Only the stories weren’t quite right. It was the baddies that captured the beautiful young ladies and the goodies who freed them. There were all the elements for an exciting story... but it just went a bit boring.
She soon started inventing her own versions of the adventures during intense play sessions in her small bedroom. She could still remember her parent’s amusement that in her play world Rapunzel got tied up with her own hair. In her version once the handsome prince had tortured and tormented her the wicked enchantress arrived on the scene and punished her some more. All this made her feel warm and tingly deep inside and down between her legs.
Her childhood make believe was full of these moments. When she was a little older and able to read stories of her own she found herself strangely excited by the cruel classroom punishments dished out to the girls in the Victorian classics. It didn’t even matter if the punisher was a man or schoolmistress as long as the young female was made to kneel in front of the class or got a spanking or a caning. Then her confused and yet undeveloped childhood sexuality responded and she got the deliciously fizzy feeling that she loved so much.
She had friends that lived on a big rambling farm just on the outskirts of town. All the local children came to play long games of hide and seek around the outer barns. On hot days they had intense water fights and for the rest of the year cowboy fights with cap guns. When she looked back she realised how cleverly she had manipulated each of the scenarios. She always somehow managed to convince one of the best looking older boys that he was a chief jailer or prison guard and she was the prisoner who needed to be rescued. She would eagerly build her own cell and then devise her own tortures, keen to demonstrate that if she wasn’t tied to something she could easily escape.
The long summer days were the best. She could spend hours wearing her skimpiest clothes with her hands tied with bailing twine to a post or rafter. Initially her captors all seemed concerned that they were hurting her or doing something wrong but after a while they seemed to get the hang of things and some took the opportunity to tease her or tickle her and this created the lovely warm feelings between her legs that she craved.
When she was approaching her early teens she tried to get sexual information out of her tight group of friends. The girls talked about boys a lot; the pop stars of the time were ‘gorgeous’ and ‘lush’, and some of the boys in the football team ‘totally hot’. She could tell a sexy boy from a dull one and she joined in with the assessments easily enough but that wasn’t ever quite enough for her. She wanted to imagine what the sexy boy would do to her. She had a lot of ideas but it would be even better if he came with his own. It was great to hear about a boy who wanted to tie up girls and tease them. One boy liked to tickle helpless girls then put leaves in their knickers. To her eager and imaginative mind that sounded great – but how much hornier if there were things that he just wanted to do just to her. If there was something about her body and personality that brought out his powerful masochistic urges that would be great.
The onset of puberty, with its surge of hormones and dramatic changes in her body, made the whole situation more difficult. Her fantasies and desires only increased whereas finding suitable boyfriends and playmates became more challenging. The game had suddenly got more serious and playing with boys wasn’t as eas
y as it had been at a younger and more innocent age. This led her into several years of angst and confusion. Her monthly rhythms were confusing her and the idea that her attraction to bondage made her somehow different was alienating and depressing. She satiated her desires by touching and rubbing herself and then spent long hours feeling that her fantasies and self pleasuring were somehow wrong. Luckily for her something else was developing alongside her teenage sexuality, and the Internet soon became a source of comfort, reassurance and excitement.
Her first exploration was in the dusty IT room of her secondary school. They hadn’t yet got a connection at home and none of her friends had Internet access so she arranged to stay behind after school with the clear intention of seeing what she could find out about sex. She tapped questions into search engines and got the most amazing answers. She asked how often it was normal to masturbate and found an astonishing range of responses. Most women would confess to pleasuring themselves a couple of times a week. Some, like her, about once a day, and others proudly confessing to indulging three or four times daily. She was amazed how they found the time, but then it seemed that a lot of America’s soccer moms had a lot of time on their hands – as well as having a lot of their private parts on their hands. The chatty conversational tone on the forums and websites was also reassuring. Women of all ages from all over the world viewed the topic in a jokey matter of fact tone and that helped. There was no judgement and the general consensus seemed to be that everybody should try to enjoy themselves as much as they could.
Reassured she moved on to the vast array of chat concerning domination and submission. Here again there were lots of resources and information. What quickly became clear was that she was not alone. Not by a long way. There were literally tens of thousands of English speaking women out there who loved being tied up and dominated. She found real life stories as well as fantasies and photos.
Twenty Tones of Red Page 3
