Melissa saw Erik step out of his closet into the room. She halted. He studied her critically, then twirled a finger to indicate that she spin around. Drawing on her years of boring ballet classes, she twirled slowly in front of him, sinking to her knees in what she hoped was a graceful fashion at the conclusion of her turn.
Erik nodded thoughtfully. “You have done well, my padawan.”
She was puzzled for a moment at the term, then giggled for a brief moment before reforming her features into a proper submissive pose.
He looked down at her sternly. “Was something funny?”
“No, Master. Far be it for me to ever suggest that a Star Wars reference might confirm your geekdom, sir.”
He harumphed. In a voice that was a surprisingly good impression of Yoda, he admonished her, “Saucy slave indeed, facing hours in the dungeon, tweaks her Master, she does. Truly fearless, this one is.”
Melissa dissolved into laughter, slumping to a sitting position on the floor. The juxtaposition of what she was wearing combined with his comical Yoda voice was too silly for her to treat seriously. At the very least, the silliness released her nervous tension about whether she had dressed appropriately.
She had picked out black sandals with six-inch heels. That choice had been safe since she knew he loved women in impossibly tall heels. She reminded herself that “safe” was a relative term – she frequently worried about twisting her ankle walking in these heels, although she was getting better at it. By the end of the summer, her calves would certainly be in amazing shape.
She had matched her shoes with an under-bust corset in black jacquard silk, which had taken forever to lace up by herself. The three-way mirror in her closet had helped, but pulling the laces tight behind her back, and then tying them, had strained her arms and shoulders. She had to take several breaks to rest her aching muscles before she was done.
She had also put on a black collar made of leather and lace. It looked pretty, plus she had come to understand the symbolic importance of wearing a collar. He had stocked one drawer in her closet with a wide selection of collars, from demure chokers that she could wear out in public without attracting much attention to heavy leather posture collars that held her head rigidly in position. She had almost decided to wear a black leather posture collar – it made her look very submissive – but she wasn’t sure how long she could tolerate having her head held in a fixed position, so she set it aside.
As the final bit of adornment, she had taken out the horse hair tail that Erik had given her earlier in the week when they had the pony training session. Even though they had both agreed afterwards that pony play wasn’t their favorite activity, the tail had clearly had a strong effect on Erik. Out of all the pony gear, it was one of the few things he had decided to keep. Melissa had to agree, when she had seen it in the mirror, the effect was very compelling. The reddish blond color of the tail was a surprisingly close match to her strawberry blond hair.
The tail appeared to emerge from her body just at the top of the crease between her buttocks, where her tail bone was located. This visual effect was achieved by a stiff, but springy wire that held the base of the tail firmly against her skin. The wire was hidden by curving down between her buttocks to twin dildos, one for each hole. There was another springy connection between the bases of the two dildos, which gently clamped onto her insides when the dildos were inserted. The one that went in her butt was also shaped with a flared body and very narrow base, so it stayed in place without falling out.
The overall effect was that she had a thick horse hair tail growing out of the base of her spine. Once she got the dildos firmly in place, she was surprised at how quickly she became accustomed to the pressure. After a couple of minutes, she mostly didn’t notice the tail, except when she walked. The swaying motion of walking in heels made the horse hair flick across the back of her thighs, which tickled.
When she had first worn the tail at the beginning of the week, her anus had been sore from the pressure. All the exercise her poor butt had been getting since then seemed to have strengthened those muscles. The pleasure/pain “motivator” that Mistress Amy used also had two dildos for front and back.
Erik clearly enjoyed anal sex, although he had been careful not to overdo it until she had a chance to stretch enough for his larger size. He had given her a graduated set of “butt plugs” specifically for that purpose, along with a schedule for inserting them several times a day. After a few days, she could much more easily accommodate the butt plug that matched his size. There were larger sizes in the set, but she hadn’t been tempted to try any of them.
Before Erik, she had only had anal sex a few times, all with boyfriends who were, fortunately, more modestly sized. Even then, she hadn’t found it particularly comfortable or fun. It had been amazing to discover over the past week that she actually did like being penetrated from behind. The feeling of fullness was surprisingly arousing. She had particularly come to like having a butt plug in her behind while Erik filled her front. Every time his penis slid in and out, she stretched in a very delightful way.
Her positive reaction hadn’t escaped his attention. He had promised her a session with another man joining them, so she would have two men inside her at the same time. As outrageously lewd as the idea seemed, she was a little unsettled by how much she was looking forward to Erik making good on his promise. In less than a week with him, she had gotten much more comfortable in leaving her Catholic upbringing far behind, as well as her pangs of fear about women’s equality. She knew that she was equal to Erik, as a person, while also enjoying her role as his submissive sex slave. Those two ideas didn’t feel as contradictory as they once had. She was feeling more comfortable with the distinction between sexual fantasy and reality.
Erik walked to stand over her, clearing his throat loudly. She stifled the last of her giggles and pushed herself back up to a proper submissive’s kneeling posture. When she tried to compose her face, however, into the correct expression of demure passivity, giggles once again erupted. She held up her hand in a plea for a moment to collect herself.
Erik put his hands on his hips and adopted an exaggeratedly stern expression. He tapped his foot against the floor.
Melissa’s attempts to be serious dissolved once more into peals of laughter. Erik shook his head sadly, finally letting a smile creep onto his face. He knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his. With a sigh, he asked, “Oh what am I to do with you?”
Melissa protested, “I promise, I’ll be a good little submissive, just don’t do the Yoda thing. At least, not when anyone else is around, and I have to behave. Oh God, Mistress Amy would never forgive me.”
Erik grinned, “No, she would not. She would simply give up on you. But she has no sense of play in her soul. Such a serious woman. She barely tolerates Serena, you know…”
“I didn’t, but I could have guessed it… if I’d thought about it. What about you? You seem so serious all the time, but you surround yourself with people like me, and Serena…”
“I appreciate the lightness in my life. Need it. Spontaneity. Joy, even. My life would be grim indeed if it were always so serious. That’s part of why I treat being a dom the way I do, as play, as a game. It’s a way to relax and be playful. I mean, think of a BDSM club. Everyone is dressed up in costume. There’s music. There’re shows, interactive; it’s like being on a ride. It’s an X-rated Disney World for consenting adults. Taking it too seriously would ruin it, at least for me. Of course, people like Mistress Amy think I’m a hopeless amateur and poser. Clearly, I lack a sufficiently respectful attitude. As do you, my little harlot. But I can get away with it. You, on the other hand, you shall pay dearly for your lack of respect.”
“Oh, whatever shall you do with me, Master?”
Erik chuckled sinisterly, “I shall do whatever I want, as is both my right and duty.” He rocked back onto his feet and stood up smoothly, still holding her hands. “Come. My dungeon awaits you.”
She rose carefully in her heels to join him. “Yes Master, your sex slave accepts her punishment willingly.”
He lead her toward his closet as he snorted quietly, adding, “Eagerly.”
“Yes, Master. Your punishment is always so… instructive. I am always eager to be taught my lessons at your hands.”
They reached the mirror. He reached behind the frame to release the catch and flicked the glass of the mirror back into the hidden room. A swirl of smoke escaped. He stepped across the high threshold, but Melissa held back, nervously eyeing the smoke that lay along the floor.
He grinned reassuringly, “Smoke machine. I turned it on just as you came downstairs.”
She said, “Oh,” and stepped through, following him, not sure what else to say. To herself, she added silently, “I can’t believe he has a fucking smoke machine. I mean, who’s got a smoke machine in their house? Of course, who the fuck has their own dungeon?”
He led her over to a small table in the middle of the room with some equipment arranged on it. They stopped at the table, and he took an oddly shaped padded cuff from the table, fastening it around one of her wrists. The cuff had a sleeve that fit over her hand, almost as a cone, except that it tapered to a blunt point by her fingertips, ending in a polished chrome o-ring. He put a matching cuff on her other hand.
Then he took a length of soft thick black rope, looped it through one of the o-rings and tied a knot. Reaching up, he fed the rope through a dark iron ring that she hadn’t noticed, which was bolted into the ceiling beam above them. He repeated the process with a second piece of rope, which he threaded through another iron ring that was several feet distant from the first one.
He maneuvered her carefully into position. Squatting down, he took the end of the rope that dangled from the iron ring and was attached to her left hand. He pulled the rope downwards, lifting her arm up towards the ceiling. Then he threaded the end of the rope into another iron ring that was recessed into the floor. She hadn’t noticed it in the fog that swirled across the wide, rough floor boards. He positioned her left foot directly above the ring and tied the rope around he ankle. She was now firmly trapped on her left side, stretched from the floor nearly to the ceiling beam.
He shifted to her right side and similarly bound her there, except that when he tightened the rope this time, the tension pulled her away from her left side toward the center, greatly increasing how tautly she was stretched. Once he finished, she could barely move.
He walked around her, inspecting his handiwork approvingly. Then he went back to the open mirror door behind her and pushed it closed with a final “click.” The light that had been spilling into the dungeon was suddenly cut off. All that remained was a very dim, reddish glow. She suddenly felt very vulnerable and uncertain.
He walked back past her, trailing the back of his hand and his fingernails across the smooth skin of her buttocks. She flinched a little.
He looked at her carefully, then asked, “Do you remember your safe word?”
This question drew her back into better control of her fears. “Yes, Master.”
He nodded, then reached over to the table to lift up a thick wand with a glass ball on the end of it. He grinned, sliding a switch on the shaft of the wand that made the glass ball suddenly glow purple. Little tendrils of miniature lightning emanated from the center of the ball and played across the inner surface of the glass. He casually swung the wand upwards to shoulder level, letting it drift forward until it came to rest against the bare skin of her shoulder.
Her skin tingled uncomfortably where it was in contact with the glass ball. Wherever the lightening inside danced, little shoots of pins and needles flashed into her. She flinched away, but the ropes constrained her. The ball followed her, and she watched, horrified as Erik let it drift downwards towards her exposed breast. She cursed herself for choosing to wear an under bust corset.
As the ball traced over the curve of her breast toward her nipple, she cried out, “Please Master, spank me, whip me, anything but this damned…” The ball had reached her nipple, and she could only grit her teeth.
Erik played it back and forth across her nipple, grinning as she gasped for air, struggling to control her reaction. Slowly, she was able to contain the intensity of the tingly needles that seemed to pierce her nipple and areola in a hundred different places every second. The effect wasn’t so much painful as very, very uncomfortable.
She was breathing hard, staring at him, when he casually said, “Of course, this is just the low setting. I can do this…” His thumb slid the switch forward, and the lightening became far more intense. Now, the needles piercing her were indeed quite painful. She thrashed her body away, screaming inarticulately, “Auugh!” The glowing purple ball followed her as she writhed. “You fucking bastard,” she screamed, “you’re enjoying this!”
He laughed, agreeing, “Immensely.” Then he lifted the wand away and slid the setting back down to a lower intensity.
She watched him warily, still breathing hard.
He asked pleasantly, “No safe word?”
“Fuck you, asshole!”
He shrugged pleasantly and let the wand fall forward against her other shoulder. As the smooth glass ball traced its way down toward her second nipple, she gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Of course,” he said lightly, “once we’re done up here, there other places to explore.” His free hand drifted lightly across here bare labia as he slid the intensity back up.
She screamed again, both from the suffering of her poor nipple and the realization of what would come next. “You fucking asshole, you wouldn’t dare!” The buzzing, shooting pain went on and on, until he finally lifted the ball away and slid the intensity back down.
She let herself hang suspended from the ropes. She was covered in sweat, breathing hard, her head hanging down. She was quivering in fear as she watched the ball descend toward her belly. He touched it against her, halfway between her belly button and her labia, letting it drift slowly lower.
Then unexpectedly, he slid a finger of his free hand up inside her. The bulk of the dildo in her vagina made his finger a tight fit against her front wall. He curled his finger forward, massaging her G-spot.
Melissa exploded into one of the most intense orgasms of her life, throwing herself against the ropes that constrained her. Her very being seemed to collapse into a vibrating mass deep inside her pelvis and then fling itself outwards in convulsions that went on and on. Finally, only vaguely conscious, she hung as a dead weight on the ropes holding her from above.
She barely noticed Erik hugging her, lifting her up to support her. He undid the buckles on her wrists, releasing her from the cuffs. She collapsed onto him, arms akimbo. He shifted her in his grasp, crouching down to pull the ropes ends at her ankles, which caused the loop knots to pull open and the rope to fall away.
Then he lifted her to carry her into his bedroom and laid her in his bed. Kicking off his shoes, he snuggled in beside her, lifting her head so she could use his shoulder as a pillow.
She lay trembling against him for several minutes until her breathing gradually settled down into long, deep breaths. Feeling herself drifting toward sleep, she resisted, seeking a return to consciousness. Erik seemed to feel the shift and quietly asked, “How are you doing?”
She mumbled, “You fucking bastard.” Trying to talk made her realize that her throat was sore from screaming.
He caressed her hair. “I guess you’re going to be fine.”
“No thanks to you.”
“Hey, I did my best.”
“Mumph.”
He started to move, “Let me get you something to drink.”
She clung onto him tighter. “Not getting away this time.” Reaching down clumsily, she unbuttoned his fly and started to wrestle his belt open.
He tried to reassure her, “You really don’t have to do that…”
“My goddamn throat’s sore anyway.” She succeeded in releasing his penis, which was very firm, if not completely erect. Lurching forward, she took him into her mouth and slid his penis all the way to the back of her mouth, gagging once, until she gained control of her reactions, then pushing forward until he slid into her throat.
His eyes flew open wide as he grasped a pillow firmly in one hand and her buttock in the other hand.
Her grin was obscured by his rapidly stiffening penis pressing her lips wide apart. After a long moment, she slid him out far enough to take a deep breath and swallowed him down again, this time sliding him in and out, letting the head of his penis move in and out of the constriction of her throat. Before she had to even take a second breath, he called out loudly, arched back, and his semen pulsed out of him, down her throat. She greedily continued to pump her head up and down, a little dizzy from holding her breath so long but reminding herself that this way, she didn’t have to taste his cum in her mouth.
Finally, she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and she pulled away, letting his spent penis flop back as she gasped for air.
“Anggh,” he groaned inarticulately.
“Fucking serves you right, asshole.”