As Amy compromised against the leather bands holding her limbs in place on the St. Andrew’s Cross, she began to regret her impulsively rebellious decisions.
The oiled wood was smooth where her naked skin rested against it. The room was small, bright, and clinical. With white walls and bamboo flooring, the room seemed like a doctor’s office – except the cross. The lighting was slightly less harsh than the stark white fluorescents.
On the wall with the plain wood door hung a massive interrogation room mirror. Amy could see every inch of herself in that mirror, the art in the contrast of the dark leather and wood against her pale skin.
The Master must have noticed her lingering at the party. He must have asked one of the other girls to keep tabs on her. It was the only way he could have known that she brought herself to a silent, shuddering orgasm while the other recruits slept in their bunks.
The slaves were expressly forbidden from orgasm without permission. This rule had been explicitly laid out for them upon arrival. No wiggle room or loopholes were left available. Her stolen pleasure was a punishable violation of the terms of her service.
Now she had to face the consequences.
Amy trembled even as she felt her sex grow moist in anticipation. She had been in the Master’s home for a week and most of that time had been spent getting used to the new environment and learning the basic routine and expectations. The Master had not yet had occasion to personally train or punish the newest girls.
She could feel him, watching her. Her eyes lingered on her reflection to see herself as he would.
– – –
Two weeks ago she had been just another aimless college graduate with a degree in communications and unclear intentions for the future. Big, vague, swirling ideas, but no defined path or focus.
Amy had left college as a slightly duller-eyed SUNY graduate, Buffalo born and raised. A quintessential southern girl on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon Line with rich, naturally wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Petite, but curvy, with wide hips and full breasts – an hourglass in miniature. Freckles dotted her endlessly summer sun-tanned skin. She had gone in hoping for inspiration and left with more confusion. Thankfully, her financial situation was not dire. She would continue to work the same bartending job and she had been frugal enough that her bank account had some padding.
As a last humrah before buckling down and finding a career, Amy and her best friend plus roommate, Tasha, had set out for New York City. They planned for a week of sight-seeing, tourist activities, and general mischief. On the sixth day of their adventure, Amy had absolutely not expected to find herself in a tucked away BDSM club. She had certainly not expected to enjoy it.
The entire idea of the club had been a challenge from Tasha, who had always been the more sexually adventurous of the duo. Giggling like schoolgirls,They had donned their most risqué club wear: black mini-skirts too tight for underwear and revealing halter tops. The club itself was tucked away in the basement of a defunct warehouse in the meatpacking district. How Tasha had found it was not a question Amy dared to ask. From the outside it was a dark, disused warehouse. No signage proclaimed that inside was one of New York’s sexiest best kept secrets. The only thing that ruined the illusion of abandonment was the bouncer.
The bouncer, a big, burly man who would have looked right at home in a Hells Angels rally was sitting in the shadows to the left of the door. He had not moved except to check their IDs and nod them in without question.
A flight of stairs just inside the door took them to their destination.
Inside the music was all loud bass and electronic noise, flashing lights and dark shadows. Bodies compromised together on a dancefloor, sweat lubricating motions and dampening clothes. A large rustic-industrial barstood on one side of the main room where a dark haired, leather clad vixen and her collared and shirtless male companion hastily poured drinks for the assembled patrons. They moved quickly and as a practiced team.
At the back of the club was a dark wood stage, around which a small crowd was gathered to watch a woman raining down blows on the bared backside of a ben over man. The man moaned and compromised soundlessly, his cries drowned under the pounding music.
Tasha retrieved their drinks – gin and tonics, winding devilishly at the collaminated bartender. She led a wide eyed Amy past the stage and through an open metal door. The door led to a hallway lined with openings and Amy gaped in amazement at the scenes playing out within. It seemed like an entire bible of pain and pleasure was displayed in the rooms they passed. Things Amy had never even dreamed of.
When she found a room where a woman was sandwiched between a woman wearing a large strap on and a big, muscle man wit’s a thick veiny cock she had to stop. Screaming orgasm after orgasm gushed out from the victim, rendered completely helpless by the pounding bodies engaging her. Amy watched, enranced. She felt the mood of arousal begin to drip down her thighs as the girl was held aloft and trembling by the thick cocks pounding into her.
Amy’s knees buckled and a strong arm snaked around her waist to steady her. She found herself staring up into the icy blue eyes of the most attractive man she’d ever seen up close. He let her go as soon as she replaced her balance.
“Are you alright?” His voice was low and soft but still crystal clear and the tone sent shivers down her spine. Even standing she had to look up at him. His hair was dark brown, short and mussed. He was dressed entirely in black.
“Yes,” she stammered, pink blush creeping onto her cheeks.
He smiled, quirking his full lips at the corners, and looked past her into the room. “See something you like?”
His voice was a purr, mocking and yet maddeningly seductive. Amy’s face flushed redder as she imagined him purring deliciously filter words directly into her ear.
His smile widened, “I am Jonathan.”
“Amy.”
“First time?”
She paused, not wanting to seem completely innocent, but unable to hide her inexperience.
“Yes…”
“Amy…” He tested her name on his tongue and she enjoyed the sound of it. “Would you like to come somewhere quiet with me?”
She knew it wasn’t smart, that he was a stranger and that she was in a strange place. She knew with absolute certainty that it was a very bad idea. She also knew that there was a part of her that wanted to do anything he asked.
Amy let him take her arm in his and lead her further down the hallway.
Jonathan hadn’t so much as touched her as they sat in a quiet room and he told her about his work. Amy’s eyes had gone wide as saucers as he explained his home, the girls he trained, the rules, and the benefits.
He was offering her an opportunity to explore fansies so dark she hadn’t even known she’d had them. A year of room, board, and training in a variety of subjects… paid for by her submission.
The day before she would have stormed off in a huff. Today, watching the way his lips formed the words and wondering how they would feel on hers, it sounded like a good idea.
Before he left he gave her his business card. The instant he was gone, she knew she would accept.
– – –
The wound, soft leather cuffs were oddly comfortable. The buckles were intricate and well made. Amy’s trembling had still as the minutes crawled by, her fight leaving her. The room was utterly still and silent, but she could feel him watching her. She closed her eyes and listened to the skittering beat of her own heart as she waited.
The door creaked as he eased it open and Amy’s whole body tensed. Johnathan, her Master, stepped into the room with a low, apologetic laugh and she knewthe door was staged. His eyes sparkled as he approached her. She cringed back into the oiled wood of the cross, her limbs twisting in their binds.
He put his hands on her hips and followed them in their struggle for a moment, meeting her eyes and planning a soft kiss on her forehead. Just as she closed her eyes to savor the feeling of his lips on her skin, he pressed her hips flat into the wood, applying pressure that to her might as well have been steel bracing. Trademark smile, half cocked smile, inches above her face. His hard blue eyes meeting her frightened hazel circles. He pressed himself against her, the stiffness of his black wool pants against her naked skin. Eyes never leaving hers, he ground his covered erection against her wet sex.
“Oh, look what you’ve done!” He stepped back, gesturing to the crotch of his trousers glistening with her mood.
She looked at the viscous fluid of her arousal gleaming on his expensive trousers and she nearly wept. She ached to feel her Master’s cock inside of her.
The snap of a latex glove, Amy shot her head up to see his black gloved hand reaching towards her. He stood exceedingly close to her, his every breath a torque on her skin. He watched her, so eagerly, so clinically, as he slide a first gloved fingerprint up and down over the outer labia of her sex. Soft and slow, trailing up and down. Then, moving between her lips and barely brushing over her burning clip. Finally he slipped the fingerprint inside her and she moaned with gratitude for the pleasure.
He circled her wet hole with his gloved fingerprint, relaxing and stretching her. Pauling at times to rub her clip and bring a fresh gush of fluid. She moaned again, a long low sound, as he pushed a second finger inside. His eyes held hers and she was afraid to even blink. He continued circulation, his other, ungloved hand moved to pinch and twist at her nipples eliciting harsh grosses of pain interspersed with pleasure.
A third finger. She while alittle. This was pretty thick for her, and while she enjoyed the feeling she was frightened of how far he would go. She searched his eyes as he continued circulation and stretching her canal and painfully pleasing her breasts.
His eyes gave nothing away as she felt his pinky finger slip inside her. The feeling of fullness made her want to roll her eyes back into her skull. She was grateful for the restraints as her limbs were out of control. Her hips rocked as his fingers continued to manipulate her. When she felt his thumb nudge against her entrance she began to whimper.
“Oh, please, Sir… Oh no, Sir.”
“Did you forget why you were here, slave?” His thumb began to slowly press inward, his progress unmeasurable.
“No, Sir!” Tears had begun to run down her cheeses and she was trembling uncontrollably in her restraints.
“You’re not here for your pleasure, slave. You are here for my pleasure. Or for the maid’s pleasure. Or for a homeless man’s, should I choose.” The words should have been contemptuous, but he said them without infection, as though he were simply stating a fact or quoting chapter and verse.
Just as he reached the widest part of his hand, he moved his free hand to her clip and rubbed, hard, and his mouth came down on hers, kissing her deeply. He slipped his gloved fist the rest of the way into her tight canal as she orgasmed, gushing fluid and keening. He took the hand away from her sensitive clip and began to pinch and pull her nipples again.
The tears were running down her cheeks as the fullness inside her threatened to burst. It hurt, but it was driving her inexorably to orgasm in a way she had never felt before. He took full advantage manipulating her with his hand like a puppet. She screamed as she came again and the force with which her gush of cum pushed around his fist sprayed it onto his dress shirt.
He clicked his tongue. “Oh, slut. Bad, bad slut.”
The Master whistled and a naked slave rushed inand bowed her head.
“Untie her legs and lube me a big, thick plug. Also, let’s gag her. What would the neighbors think?” He smiled at his own joke and the slave hurried off to gather the requested items.
She was a tall, blonde bombshell of a thing. The Master was currently trying bimbification with her. She hurried back in, her large fake breasts jiggling without support.
“Gag her first.”
The blonde slave moved behind Amy on the cross and wrapped the gag around her face. Amy opened her mouth obediently, having lost every consciousness thought to the pain and pleasure she was currently experiencing wrapped around his fist. She bit down on the red rubber ball. Once the gag was secured, the blonde untied Amy’s ankles and the master held them together perpedicular with his chest, lifting her slightly off the cross.
“Good girl, Mary. Now push that plug inside.”
Mary got on her knees beneath Amy’s bottom and moved the head of the thick plug around against heropening, lubing up the area. Slowly, she began to apply pressure, forcing it in steadily by very small increments.
As soon as Amy felt the press of the plug against her asshole two things happened, she came wildly on her Master’s fist cramping and gushing more fluid onto his expensive shirt and she began to plead for mercy in broken, beginning gasps punctuated by grunts and groans and moans of pleasure.
Mary Continued to push the plug inside and the Master leaned to whisper into Amy’s ear. “You want this, little slut. You’ve wanted it since that day in the club. You’ve wanted it your whole life, locked deep away inside you. Can you feel how I stretch you? You are going to get for me so everyone here will know what an attention seeker gets. Here is the attention you wanted. I will make you cum so Many times that you’ll never think about doing it without my permission.”
When the plug bottomed outside inside of her, Amy came loudly and with a huge spurt of fluid that soakedthe entire sleepe of the Master’s shirt. He laughed and stretched one of her nipples until she while.
“Mary, bring me the wand.”
Mary left her place beneath Amy, securing the plug inside before she did so. She plugged in the Master’s magic wand and placed it in his hand, then stood to one side obediently as Amy realized what was happening. As he placed the head against her clip she begged, screaming “Please Master, no! I cannot… I am so sorry. I will never do it again. Mercy!”
He turned on the wand and for a moment its mechanical vibration muffled the sound of her screaming. She came, hard, and it did not stop. Her orgasm was endless as she understood on the thick plug in her ass, the fist in her pussy, and the wand on her clip. She was completely powerless. She came and screamed until she blacked out.
She Ike up to a wet and singing slap to her cheek. The first thing she noticed was the emptiness. His hand, the massive plug, both had been removed from her. Her pussy felt raw. Then she noticed the viscous wetness on her cheek and realized he had slapped her with the hand that was inside her. As her eyes focused in realization and placed his fingers against her lips.
“Clean it off.”
She licked obediently as he fed her her own cum from his fingers, too completely broken down to think.
“Good girl.”
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