Twenty Tones of Red

by Pauline Montford

  Just a stone’s throw away was Turnham Green Terrace. Although this was the area’s main thoroughfare it felt like a stretch of country village. There was an underground station but this was nothing like the ones she knew. Right next to it there was a florists and on the other side a large and well-kept garden centre. This meant that instead of enduring the usual piles of litter and fast food debris walking past the entrance meant enjoying the scent of fragrant plants and flowers.

  The rest of the street seemed to be dedicated to pleasure. As well as a sprinkling of bars and boutiques there were endless delicatessens, fishmongers and grocers and even a shop selling nothing but coffee and hand-made artisan chocolates. It felt like heaven and they treated themselves to every sensory experience that came to mind. He bought her to a delicious meal in one of the authentic-feeling French brasseries and she gorged herself on the onion soup and steak and frites while they talked intimately about everything and anything that came into their heads. They discovered that they were absolutely ravenous but put this down to the fact that they had spent the majority of the previous twelve hours making love.

  After pudding he took her across the road and bought her a fabulous espresso and a plate of truffles in the chocolate shop. The sun was bright outside, the March sky a pure deep blue and she felt as if every taste and flavour and texture in the world had been magnified for her own personal pleasure.

  After browsing in a few shops they started to hug and kiss each other again and both decided that they needed to get back to his house as quickly as possible and get back under the covers. They did and discovered that their passion for each other remained undimmed.

  It was a dream weekend. They did nothing more than indulge themselves and roll around in his enormous bed and when Monday morning came they ate an early breakfast together and she set off for Camden with a spring in her step and a song in her heart. It was love.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fun

  They were now officially going out with each other. It was public, it was honest and it was quite normal. They started going to parties and slowly began to meet and get to know each other’s friends. During this time they also continued to make love in a highly passionate and totally normal way. They were having what was known on the scene as ‘vanilla’ sex and because they were totally into each other this was wonderful. For a while. Spring had turned to early summer when she started to feel cravings for more. At first she was annoyed with herself. Why when everything was perfect did she feel she needed to turn the intensity up? For a while she felt like some kind of spoiled child, or even worse a sexual freak. But then she reminded herself of something.

  She and James had started their relationship in a distinctly kinky way. They’d first set eyes on each other when she’d been a collared slave in a nightclub. They’d then spent a wildly kinky weekend together before they’d even spoken to each other. The BDSM scene had brought them together and it only made sense that they should go back to it.

  After fighting with the idea for many long weeks she finally decided to do the sensible thing and talk to him about it. He was pleased that she’d brought the topic up and admitted that he’d been thinking about getting into kinky play but had kept quiet because he hadn’t wanted to upset her. He’d been concerned that if he’d mentioned it she might have thought that he was more into the scene than her and that wasn’t true. He was totally in love with her.

  That was good to hear, in fact it was wonderful to know that they both felt the same way and that they had given each other permission to start their games of dominance and submission again. There was no hurry and she took her time to formulate a plan of how she wanted things to start.

  Strangely enough she decided that the key to the next stage of their sexual life together would be tea. James still kept to his strict approach to drugs and alcohol and after dinner his habit was to sit and relax with a cup of herbal tea that was aptly named tranquillity. When she first met him he used to do this on the little arrangement of sofas in the kitchen-dining area. The big house had another, more suitable, after dinner environment however and she soon encouraged him to move into the formal drawing room next door. This space had giant patio doors that opened onto the back garden and serious paintings and antique armchairs that gave it a more classic distinguished feel. There was a huge log fire that was cleverly lit by a hidden gas mechanism and could be switched on by remote control. The big yellow and blue flames were quite beautiful and she could watch for hours as they danced and licked at the ceramic logs in a warm and inviting way. The room also contained a phenomenally expensive hi-fi and they were soon sitting in comfort listening to opera and feeling incredibly grand and grown-up. It was the perfect setting for her new life of slavery and she gradually and subtly started to nudge their relationship in this direction.

  Initially she began by offering to make his tea and serve it in increasingly submissive ways. First she gave a little bow to him as she handed it over and then she started to sit on the plush sheepskin rug at his feet while he drank. He took to this well and would casually stroke her hair as he drank. Sometimes she would take off his shoes and socks and gently rub his feet while he sipped his brew and listened to music or watched TV. He obviously knew that she was slipping into a submissive role and took everything she offered appreciatively unquestioningly. The biggest leap was to remove her clothing. One Friday when she knew they’d have the whole weekend together she slipped everything off apart from her stockings and high heels and took him his tea quite naked. For his part he didn’t bat an eyelid. He simply looked at her approvingly for a brief moment then went back to watching a documentary. When she’d served him she knelt on the rug and put herself into the classic slave’s position; kneeling with her legs open and her hands palm upwards on her thighs. During the first lull in the commentary from the television she whispered her obedience. “Your slave is ready to serve you master.”

  His hand came down and casually stroked her hair and shoulders. “That’s very good slave. Master will begin your training presently.” As she bathed in the warm glow from the flickering fire and stared at the stretch of soft wool in front of her she smiled. She was now in the mansion of the man she loved most in all the world. She was naked and about to be properly trained as a slave. Things couldn't be better.

  They began that very evening. The programme lasted just another half an hour or so and while he watched James occasionally bent over to fondle her breasts and tease her nipples; tweaking and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until they were just on the edge of pain. It wasn’t much but every five minutes or so this gave her enough stimulation to keep her mind on her slavery and help her imagine what was to come. The sense of anticipation created a fluttering in her tummy and kept her body sensitive and responsive.

  When her master decided to go to bed he commanded her to stand then ushered her out of the drawing room and up the stairs in front of him. This meant that he could slap her on the bum and the back of her thighs as she walked and there was something very exciting and humiliating about being moved naked up a set of stairs in front of a fully clothed man.

  Once they were in their bedroom he took her very assertively to one of the leather chairs in the corner and bent her over it. She knew what was going to come next and sure enough he pulled open a nearby drawer and produced several coils of rope. His technique was quick and expert and just a couple minutes later she was pulled taut over of the big heavy chair with her ankles and wrists tied to the legs. He gave her a few more rapid slaps on her exposed behind then walked out of the room. She knew that there was plenty to do before he could come to bed. He had to switch off the lights and make sure that the doors were locked and the security system armed. It took him a few minutes to do all that and then she heard him washing his face and brushing his teeth in the bathroom. This was a master’s luxury; it meant that when he got into bed he could go straight to sleep whenever he wanted to.

  When he did come back he had a cane o
r some kind of thin stick with him. She couldn’t see it but he came over and began to whip her arse with it. It created a sting but the pain was brief and the stripe of sensation very narrow. Once he’d worked it up and down her bum and both her cheeks were hot and smarting he started to move it down the back of her legs. He was soon planting even gentler strikes on the inside of her thighs and working up to just below her pussy. The blows were nothing more than the sharp slap of an elastic band but they brought blood and heat to the area and set her skin tingling.

  The tenderising of her soft and intimate parts was obviously part of a plan because he then came back with some kind of oil and began to very slowly and sensuously rub the slick liquid onto her buttocks. It smelt spicy and she guessed it was a massage oil that contained a tiny dash of some kind of heat rub like Tiger Balm.

  As he rubbed up the back of her legs she started to shiver and squirm in anticipation. He worked higher and higher and the oil seemed to bring even more blood to the surface of her tender skin. It felt as though her whole body below the waist was throbbing and pulsing somehow and without even touching her he had made her slit soaking and eager.

  Eventually he did touch her there. She felt his hot palm mould itself around her fragile lips and squirmed. He increased the pressure a little then moved his hand in a gentle rotating motion. She heard herself starting to pant. It was deeply sensual but somehow not quite enough. She needed his fingers inside her or rubbing her clit but it was not to be. Instead he was knowingly stimulating the nerve endings in her loins without allowing her the privilege of direct stimulation. Next came a slap. He actually smacked her firmly between her legs and she jolted. It left her with a flash of tender pain then an even deeper rush of blood to her intimate lips. She could feel how wet she was and knew that his hand had come away sticky with her. She was so wanton and shameless that she was glad of the signals she was giving him. He slapped her again and again in her most intimate furrow and she was quite helpless to stop him or wriggle from his reach.

  As she had hoped this was just a warm up. She had asked to be his slave and he was not going to disappoint. Next a blindfold was pulled over her head and she was thrust into total darkness. His hands worked at the knots around her wrists and her arms came free. He positioned her upright and manoeuvred her arms behind her back so that each of her hands was holding the opposing elbow. It was a classic slave position, extremely submissive with the benefit of stretching back her shoulders and thrusting her breasts forward. This was obviously his intention. He left her in darkness with her ankles still roped tight to the bottom of the chair and proceeded to rub her upper body with the slick warm oil. He took extra special attention with her breasts and tummy, working his fingers in long sensuous strokes down her pubic bone and around her small triangle of hair. He avoided stimulating her directly but made sure that her intimate lips were occasionally teased apart. It was incredibly sensual and the fact that he was being so nice immediately started playing tricks with her mind. Dominants never pampered slaves for long. The pleasure of the hot oil rub was only to prepare her for more pain and teasing to come.

  She was right. The moment he’d finished bathing her entire body in the silky fluid he moved back to her chest and started slapping her breasts. He struck them with a flurry of rapid blows that made her recoil then, as the blood was rushing to the surface of her stinging skin, he grabbed each of her nipples and started to squeeze. “Hold your position,” he commanded. On hearing the words she realised that she’d started to twist away from him and her hands were no longer gripping her elbows. Immediately straightening herself she locked her arms firmly behind her back. She was certain that he would not hesitate to bind her over the chair and give her a prolonged beating if her behaviour was not up to scratch. It was only nipple torture and she could bear it.

  Still keeping the pressure on her two tender buds he manoeuvred himself until he was kneeling on the chair in front of her and then she felt his mouth on hers; his hot tongue probing her while his fingers sent delicious spikes of pain into her breasts. She responded with a passionate kiss, snogging with a wet open mouth like a desperate teenager. She was getting more and more aroused by the second and was held in a poignant moment of erotic balance. Part of her absolutely wanted him to take her right there and then. She wanted to feel his hardness ramming inside her from behind but perhaps that would have been too quick. The other part of her knew that the night was still young and was yearning to be teased and tortured for another hour or so.

  This seemed to be his intention and after pulling himself away and releasing her stinging nipples he bent and untied the rope at her ankles. He then nudged her gently across the room until she was standing near the foot of the bed.

  She stood in darkness and silence, her senses alert and her whole body tingling and receptive. His voice cut the air and she guessed that he was now sitting propped up on his pillows. “You moved around too much slave. You will spend the night chained in the basement if you don’t learn composure and comportment.”

  “Yes master.” she replied.

  “Now I will teach you some more positions and you will move into them quickly. You will maintain perfect form and you will remember the posture precisely. Is that clear?”

  “Yes master,” she repeated.

  “Good. So position number one you already know - this is the basic slave kneeling. Go to it now.”

  She dropped to the floor then bowed her head and placed her palms face up on her thighs as requested. He immediately barked out another command. “No! Head lower, back straight and legs much wider.” She did as he said, pushing herself into a much more exaggerated and strenuous position. “Legs even wider,” he continued. She pulled her knees even further apart until the tendons down the inside of her thighs were stretched as tight as they’d go. It was obscene. She was so wide open that she had pulled her own lips apart and was exposing her glistening wetness in a most graphic way.

  “Good. Now remember that slave S. That position is all about servility and humility. You keep your back straight and legs far apart as they’ll go. I’ll give you a few seconds to get that into your memory and then we’ll move onto number two.”

  Number two was another kneeling position. This time he made her lean forward and place her forehead on the carpet then put her arms straight out in front of her and cross them at the wrist. It was a position of total worship. To any passing observer she would look as if she was praying to a mighty deity. The effect of leaning forward so far was that it pulled her buttocks tight apart and left her loins gaping and fully exposed at the rear. She liked that and imagined that in this position it would be nice if her master inspected her or just touched her with the tip of his foot when passing. None of this was going to happen anytime soon though. She was in training and her lover stayed comfortably on his bed as he put her through her paces.

  The next position was a standing one. He made her get to her feet and lock both her arms behind her back as she had done when tied to the chair. Then he instructed her to hold her opposing elbows and thrust back her shoulders as far as they’d go. He kept correcting her until she was pushing forward her breasts in the most obvious and suggestive way. He then made her open legs a little more and angle her feet so that they were pointing outwards and she was displaying more of her intimate lips. To complete her submission her head had to be bowed so that she couldn’t see what was going on around her.

  For position number four he made her turn around and put her hands on her knees. This was the position for awaiting punishment and she knew that she might be left standing in this way with her bum pushed out while he got ready to spank her. After leaving her bent over for a few minutes he taught her the fifth and final position of the night. He called this one ‘naughty girl’ and for this she was to get on her knees and crawl into the corner then stay facing the wall with her hands behind her head. She decided that this was her favourite of them all. It tapped directly into her childhood fantasies and made her feel lik
e a humiliated schoolgirl. She imagined herself as the only female in a class of young men who was forced to strip and kneel while the boys sniggered.

  Now that she knew each of the five positions he started to drill her. He shouted out a number and she had to move into the correct posture within seconds. He picked her up on every little detail; recording a fault if she was slightly slow or failed to arch her back or spread her legs as wide as she could. He kept a mental tally of her tiny mistakes and assured her that she would receive punishment for all transgressions in due course.

  The training became a work out. He kept her moving from one position to another at such a pace that she soon became breathless and broke into a sweat. On seeing her struggle he only increased the speed of his instructions, promising even more severe punishments if she failed to keep pace. Finally he let her rest in the worship position and then gave her the command to crawl slowly forward until she found the end of the bed. Intrigued she did so and soon had her finger tips pressed against the mahogany frame. He then ordered her to lift herself up and slip under the end of the duvet until she found his feet.

  She was to learn the art of foot worship. He told her to begin with long doglike licks and she obeyed, running her tongue from his heel all the way up to the tips of his toes. He hadn’t showered since the morning and there was a faint sweaty aroma and a taste of salt on the rough skin of his soles. It was a total turn on. She loved foot worship and everything about it. There were a host of powerful pheromones involved and some deep part of her responded to the total submissiveness of the gesture. He was lying back comfortable on his pillows while she was lapping like an animal at his feet.