by Lucy Lixx
“Did you like what you saw out there?” she asked, rubbing her fingers along my arm.
I nodded drunkenly, suddenly intoxicated by the gentle touch of her fingers through the fabric of her gloves. Her breasts were practically exploding from the corset and they were inviting me to bite them. Before I could lean over, she placed a gloved finger against my lips.
She spoke softly through the gentle silence of the room: “We're going to have to do something about your outfit before you explore, miss Anna. Let me get you something.”
Charlotte stood and walked over to the closet where she pulled out a pleather halter and skirt along with some fishnets. She held the pieces up to my body and smiled, shoving them into my arms. After I had changed, she pushed me in front of a mirror and wrapped a masquerade mask around my eyes. The gesture elicited goosebumps to ripple across my arms. My reflection caused me to gasp.
I looked completely different. Charlotte had transformed me into an absolute vixen, a sexy little freak who was just begging to be touched and used. Her fingers traced circles around my neck and I turned to kiss her as a thanks. Delighted, she accepted my kiss and then patted my bottom, explaining that I had a lot to learn in the next few hours. As she pulled me towards the door and back into the sea of masks, I was overcome with elation. This was what I had been looking for. This would be my next big adventure.
Chapter Three
Whips, crops, suede gloves, slappers, gags, detachable parts, full-bodied suits… I had no idea this world existed. Over the years, I'd heard about these special parties involving people who liked pain, but I had never imagined those people to be so utterly normal despite how abnormal their interests were. I couldn't keep up with the equipment. Charlotte was showing me so many things that I became overwhelmed at one point and had to lie on the suede couch. She ordered a small man in a leather mask to bring me some water while fanning my face, loosening the mask from around my eyes to reduce sweating.
“I'm sorry, girl. I should have started you off nice and easy.” Charlotte said apologetically. “There's so much to discover and I was excited to show you all of it all at once.”
“It's alright. I think it's all wonderful. I just don't know where to begin!” I replied while waving my hand.
The little man handed me a tall glass of water and I gratefully accepted it, taking slow sips and holding it to my exposed skin to keep cool. We haven't even started playing with anything and I was already breaking a sweat. I wonder what would happen once I got involved? Charlotte had explained all the procedures of the club – called The Marble by many – and also made a point to explain safety words.
“Just yell it when you want to stop completely,” Charlotte explained.
“Couldn't I just say 'no' instead?” I asked pointedly.
“Sometimes, your gut wants to say 'no' when your body really wants it to continue. It separates role playing from reality. Make sense?” She smoothed my hair behind my ear and smiled as I nodded. “You'll make a fine baby girl, I bet.”
I wriggled my nose at the sound of the name. I wasn't even sure what that was. I just wanted to explore the rest of the club on my own and maybe locate my step dad who had disappeared from the main area. Charlotte had introduced me to the few people around the couch, but I forgot their names as soon as I left the room. I wasn't trying to be rude. My instincts were telling me to follow my feet until I found what I wanted which was in the opposite direction of the new acquaintances I had made.
It wasn't until I reached what seemed like the end of the building that I ended up stopping. Before me was a lush red curtain covering a doorway and beyond that was dim light. I pushed the curtain aside carefully and found a tall man hurling a bull whip over the length of the room at a gigantic black cross. The snapping of the leather against the wood made me quiver, my thighs suddenly becoming moist and soaking the fishnets. My eyes drank in his appearance, the short hair spiked menacingly while his features remained stern, yet gentle. His high cheek bones were perfectly symmetrical and his eyes sparkled bright blue through the colored lighting in the room.
It was Billy and he was looking at me.
I nearly swooned at the sight of him cracking the whip again, my eyes blinking away the fear that told me to run. If I ran, would he chase me? My bratty side told me I should test him, but I didn't even know if he'd follow. I couldn't read his intentions like I could at home. This wasn't the same man who gifted me those paints earlier in the day, but someone much darker. While he was the same soft-featured Billy who greeted me every morning, there was something absolutely mischievous in his gaze that made me melt. It was as if he was inviting me to walk over to the cross and position myself up against it with my back exposed to him. It was close to a dare, but more or so a command.
Calmly, I walked to the cross while holding his gaze. My defiance was met with a crack of the whip and I flinched which seemed to satisfy him. I turned slowly and raised my wrists up to rest them in the loops already lining the arms of the cross. The ropes were surprisingly soft to the touch and I found myself incredibly satisfied with the resistance they provided as I leaned against the cold wood. I waited for the whip to crack at my back, but nothing came. My ears were met with a tickling silence that inspired a twitching paranoia to grow in the back of my mind. The hair at the back of my neck stood on end in anticipation of the leather against my skin. I wanted to know how it felt, to be put under the great spell of pain that was described to me just twenty minutes before this moment.
Instead of the painful twitch of leather, I watched as two strong hands appeared to tighten the ropes around my wrists. They were large, brazen with experience, and seemed to know exactly how loose to keep them. When he went to tighten the other hand, he spoke very gently in the direction of my ear without turning his head:
“My safety word is cookie. I expect you to use it when appropriate. I have a few different types of whips and you are welcome to choose any one of them.”
As he spoke, he fastened the rope tight enough to hold me, but not so tight as to cut off circulation. It was unexpectedly sweet the way he pushed my hair aside and leaned forward to smell my skin, the gesture somewhat loving even in the midst of torture equipment.
“Call me Daddy and I will call you whatever name suits your personality,” he whispered into my ear. “Do you want to proceed?”
“Yes, Daddy. I do.” I responded, absolutely intoxicated by the moment.
I wasn't sure if he knew who I was or if he just didn't care, but calling him by his formal name was erotic. I wanted to keep saying it, to let the syllables to fill my mouth in the same way I'd swallow his precious member. My obedient response to his movements and voice were astonishing. I had never been one to conform to an authority figure, especially not to this man! But he was making me say yes. I could feel it in every inch of my body. I wanted to lend myself over to his power with every fiber of my being and it made me feel sexy.
When I was fixed properly to the cross, Daddy left my peripheral vision and effectively disappeared. I couldn't hear his footsteps on the floor, nor could I hear him choosing a whip. My flesh flexed in preparation for the hit, wondering exactly how the sting would feel. Would it split my skin? Would I cry or yelp or beg? The anticipation was killing me and I could feel my juices trickling down the inside of my thighs as I waited impatiently for him to take the first strike. Why was he taking so long?
It wasn't until I inhaled and relaxed my muscles that he finally struck the middle of my back. It was a very light pat, but the strike shocked me enough to gasp and tense up. Daddy placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and told me to relax, to keep breathing. As soon as I relaxed, he struck me a little harder, the leather giving more of a bite than a sting. It felt like a wide strap, perhaps a belt, which was relieving considering how intimidating the whip appeared initially. The strap landed on my skin again with a louder slap that caused me to squeak. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to make noise and I didn't want to offend him. Was this okay?
The strap met my flesh a few more times before I actually cried out, signaling Daddy to lean close to me while rubbing the raw skin that still stung. He gently caressed my back and whispered sweet words into my ear that he was going to take care of me and that I was doing such a good job.
“You're being a very good girl. I want to reward you for trying. Would you like that?” he asked, trailing his fingers around my waist and up my stomach to embrace me.
I nodded into his shoulder, feeling the weight of the ropes now anchoring into the flesh of my wrists. My arms were aching from being posed in the same position and my knees started to buckle under me. Daddy caught me with his embrace and held me up for a bit, smoothing my hair back as I rested my head against him. It was the most comfort I had felt in such a long time that it made me want to cry. I sighed heavily in his arms, feeling the weight of my angst slipping off my chest as I rose up high into the sky.
High. I was high. It was almost exactly the same feeling I got after smoking a joint with my friends except it didn't leave me paranoid. I could feel myself floating above the club and above all of my ridiculous issues that I constantly complained about. It was like the strap freed me of worry, doubt, and misery. I didn't have to focus on anything else except the pain and the pleasure that came as a result. While in my haze, I didn't notice Daddy's fingers slowly smoothing down my stomach to my skirt that he unzipped and discarded of with ease. My bare bottom was pressed against his jeans, his erection hard against my exposed vulva that was dripping with fluid and desire. My face was pressed into the wood as I rocked my hips side to side, egging him to do whatever he wanted with my vulnerable holes that begged to be filled.
Daddy's fingers gently massaged their way up my thighs and to my soaked lips, pushing and prodding between the folds of skin to explore every bit of me. He asked warmly if I wanted more and I begged for him to keep touching. I wanted him to push me to the very edge of pleasure and possibly leave me there to be collected later by hedonists who were just like me. The firm touch of his hand to my clit was exhilarating, his fingers tenderly exposing my inner lips and causing me to shiver. His other hand gently rubbed my clit in tiny circles and I moaned, practically drooling against the black wood I was leaning against.
While keeping my lips spread, Daddy inserted one finger and then two, taking time to lubricate them with my juicy nectar that was now flowing steadily from my body. Molten waves of pleasure washed over me, his fingers surging between my lips and reaching deeper each time. He pressed them deep and then wiggled them hard, eliciting rapid squeaks from my throat as I bucked into his hand. I couldn't control my body's reaction. I was teeming still from the high the leather had provided and now he was carrying me into a different world where pleasure and pain coexisted happily. My back was still stinging, but my hips were rattling to the beat of his fingers that dutifully dug into my flesh to find the orgasm hidden within.
Without warning, my bucking turned to convulsions as Daddy continued to work his magical fingers inside my delectable opening, juices flooding his hand and spraying the cross in front of us. I threw my head back in blissful splendor as the sudden explosion rocked my core and forced me to cry out like a wounded animal. I pulled hard on the ropes, almost breaking free of them before the exquisite high leveled out and caused my body to collapse. My head lolled forward and he carefully cradled it between his wet hands as he planted kisses against my cheek and chin.
“That was impressive, baby girl,” he whispered while undoing one of the knots. “Let's get you some water.”
Daddy released me from the grip of the ropes that had now dented my flesh with a rigid pattern. The relief caused a heavy gasp and I rested my head against his shoulder as he carried me into the next room to spread me out on the couch. He gathered a few towels moistened with cool water which he placed carefully on my forehead after removing the masquerade mask. The inside of it was soaked in sweat and drool, my eyes fluttering as he laid more cool clothes along my body.
“Anna?”
Hearing my name had prompted panic to rise in my gut, the discovery of my identity nearly causing me to vomit. I stared up at Daddy who had a mixture of emotions filling his stern features, the once calm demeanor now featuring shock and excitement.
“I'm sorry, Daddy,” I whispered between the cloths. “I didn't want to tell you who I was. I was afraid you wouldn't play with me.”
Daddy ran his fingers through my hair and met my lips with a slow and sensuous kiss. Afterwards, he sat up and continued caring for my body before responding.
“Just don't tell your mother about this.” Daddy said playfully.
I giggled at the command, allowing the sentence to fill me with joy over my new secret. It was the ultimate sin and the most thrilling pleasure available, especially for such a naughty girl such as myself who was always chasing a high. This would be my new scene. I wouldn't have to attend weird parties seeking the pleasure that never stayed with me long enough to satisfy. The high I had achieved in that room was beyond the excellence any drunkenness could provide. It couldn't possibly compare. I didn't need to smoke or drink or pop strange pills. I didn't have to elicit favors from strangers anymore. My Daddy is my drug now. I don't need anything else.
Chapter Four
I thought seeing Daddy at home would be incredibly awkward, but it was rather comforting. After a long, hot shower and a sandwich, he poked his head into my room to check on me.
“Anna,” he said softly from the doorway. “May I come in?”
I nodded, hypnotized by the way his body confidently glided across the room and sat next to me on my bed. He placed his hand on mine that was gripping a brush so tightly it was causing my knuckles to turn white.
“I implore you to keep this a secret between us,” Daddy said while massaging my tense fingers. “Because I don't want anyone getting hurt.”
While he spoke, I studied the outline of his profile against the light of my lamp, noticing the finer details of his face now that we were in a brighter room. He was so handsome that he left me speechless. I became lost in the angular curve of his jaw and his thin lips that were moving slower by the minute. Before I knew it, I was leaning across the sheets to devour his mouth with my tongue, hoping maybe we could just romp around on the bed before my mother came home from work.
Daddy chuckled and embraced me.
“You are sweet, little one, but you have a lot to learn. I need you to pay attention,” he said playfully. “We must be discreet, but I'll take you with me every week to The Marble if you want to go. We can't risk doing anything in the house.”
I nodded in agreement, but stopped when I had a thought.
“Does this mean I'm no longer grounded?” I asked in my sweetest voice.
Daddy raised a stern eyebrow in my direction, looking me over with tempted curiosity.
“I think we can settle that punishment tomorrow night,” he replied with a smirk and firmly grabbed a portion of my bottom in one hand. “I'll make sure you remember it, too.”
Elated, I groaned into his shoulder and inhaled the scent of his cologne that was still stuck to him even after his shower. I just wanted him to ravish me right here, but I knew better than to beg. He had shown me how he could torture and tease. My punishment for being bratty would definitely be heavy-handed and well-received, but I knew pushing him to play here might cause him to deny me pleasure altogether. I didn't want to risk that.
Daddy left me to continue painting after bidding me goodnight. I kissed his cheek when commanded and sat back on the bed, blissful emotions coursing through my body at the sight of his muscular back leaving my room. Suddenly, I felt empty. I frowned at the canvas in front of me that was sparkling with explosive color. It wouldn't be long until we played again, so I wasn't sure why I was so upset. Tonight had provided an intense pleasure that would last me for a couple of days, I was sure of that. Even if it didn't, I could always make a phone call. Was I allowed to do that?
When I had risen f
rom the bed to go ask Daddy about seeing other people, I heard the front door open and my mother enter the house. I went out to the living room to greet her. She was surprised to see me awake, especially to welcome her home. I was feeling somewhat generous with my feelings and went to hug her.
“What did I do? Have I died?” she jested.
“No, I just want to apologize for the way I've been acting lately,” I responded. “I know it's been rough for you, too.”
My mother's usual stern face suddenly went soft and she nodded, a smile cutting across her lips as she thanked me for the apology. She hugged me again and then went off to the room to change, likely ready to collapse after being on her feet at the hospital all night. It was very early in the morning and I needed to sleep as well. I wasn't even sure what had prompted me to apologize to my mother, especially after I had been so angry with her, but the whipping from earlier seemed to release those negative emotions I had been harboring for the past six months. Maybe this stuff would be my therapy and my redemption from the emotional turmoil I frequently felt. Maybe it could be something more than just pain.
