Discovery 22

I met Kimberly Kumamoto at a play party. It was a monthly affair hosted in a private home, and a hundred or so people usually attended. The halls were crowded with bodies, people pressing up against one another to pass by or peering over the heads of others to watch a scene in one of the rooms off the hall. It was all an entangled mess of hands, arms, legs and feet. I was standing in the main play area with my current boy toy when I looked out toward the hallway. There, in the midst of the crowd, stood a vision of beauty of the likes I had never seen.

Outwardly I showed no sign of noticing anything extraordinary about her, but inwardly my heart rate had quickened. Her beauty simply blew me away. My gaze was focused solely on her; everyone else in that hallway seemed to melt into the shadows. I couldn't help but take in every inch of her, from her short, jet-black pixie style haircut down to her leather-encased toes. She was young; she looked to be about 25. Her eyes were a dark brown that bordered on black. They slanted in the Asian fashion, but they were wider than most oriental eyes, giving her a look of astonishment. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain colored. She was petite, about 5'4", but had one of the loveliest hourglass figures I had ever seen; it was perfectly proportioned. Her breasts, which I estimated to be a full B cup, were perfectly round and nicely perky. Her curves moved from her breasts and smoothed into her gorgeous, small waist before blossoming out into a gorgeous set of hips. She wore a black, nearly transparent lacy dress with a black bra and panties underneath, and thigh-high leather boots with stiletto heels. The tops of two knives stuck out of the top of each boot.

I was intimidated by this woman's presence, almost humbled. She was shorter than me by a good four inches or so, and skinnier, yet her presence seemed to demand humility. In a way, I was drawn more to that presence than to her physical beauty; I was drawn to her like a fly is drawn to honey. I watched her from afar for most of the night. She seemed to exude charisma, and commanded confidence and composure in whichever room she entered. I watched her perform knife play on another young woman; my eyes would follow the path of the knife, moving quickly, across the other girl's arm, and examine the red marks it left behind. I took in the way her eyes gleamed when the other girl squealed; how they betrayed her obvious delight in what she was doing. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be in the other girl's place.

Toward the end of the night I plucked up the courage to talk to her. I walked up to her while she was grabbing a couple of snacks at the refreshment table.

"Hi," I said. "I really love the outfit you are wearing; those boots are wicked awesome."

"Thanks," she grinned. "I like them a lot too. I have a lot of different pairs but this is probably one of my favorite ones."

"I really liked the knife play you were doing, too; you're really good at that. It's amazing to watch."

"Thank you," she said again. "I have a special place in my heart for knives."

She turned to me and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Kimberly. What's your name?"

"Leah," I replied, shaking her hand.

She looked straight into my eyes. "I don't think I have seen you around here; are you new?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I am only just now getting into the public scene. I'm pretty new in general, but I have been doing private stuff for a while."

She smiled. "Oh, you'll probably love it, especially if you loved watching any of the play. It's also a good way to learn about new things and to go on and try them."

I nodded. "I think I have seen a few things here that I liked."

She grinned. "Oh really? What kind of things do you think you might want to try?" She asked, motioning for us to take a seat.

-~

So began the friendship between Kimberly and myself. While we originally did connect on a kink level, discussion revealed that we had other things in common, and we grew to be friends outside of the kink community. She was a fascinating individual; she worked as a curator for an art museum, and she knew a great deal about anything to do with the subject. Because of her passion for art, although she didn't paint much on her own, she liked to share facts about different pieces throughout the centuries. She also had a wonderful sense of humor, and loved to laugh. She loved the same kinds of music and dance as I did, and we would often listen to songs in the car together. In times of upset, she would be there to listen and to comfort me, and to remind me of what I special individual I am.

Throughout the next couple of months, a form of tension developed between Kimberly and I. Even though we had become good friends, she still always exuded that presence of charisma, confidence, and command that I had witnessed the first night I met her, and something in me felt compelled to yield to it. She emerged not only as the dominant personality in the friendship, but in subversive ways she began to emerge as being dominant over me. It manifested itself in very subtle ways, beginning with Kimberly becoming slightly more possessive over me. She came up with the nickname "baby bunny " for me based on an inside joke, and she began to call me HER baby bunny, specifically. This was followed by more affection: more frequent hugs, holding my hand, and even kisses on the lips. I would do my best at these times not to get excited by her touch. I believe she was aware of my feelings, but if it did, they didn't influence our friendship for her. In many ways, the affection felt natural. In fact, the entire progression felt natural. Some might consider it the natural development of a close friendship; after all, there was nothing overtly sexual about our affections for one another. But both of us felt we were moving towards something much deeper, with much more darker, powerful tones. We were moving toward something that would awaken and fulfill a deep-seated need in each of us, something that would greatly influence the course of the friendship.

~

It was at a play party a couple of months lately that Kimberly approached me and asked me to sit down.

"Leah, I need to ask you something," she prefaced. "How would you feel about me playing you tonight?"

I was stunned. I had never confirmed that Kimberly had that kind of an interest in me, and to have it suddenly confirmed felt wonderful, but strange. I also felt a little scared; I had never had a heavy S&M session before, much less a public one. I had watched how hard Kimberly played her boy toys, and so I was a little nervous. But I was also excited to try something new, something that I had never done before. In addition the idea of playing in public, especially with Kimberly, really turned me on.

"Um...I would love it," I told her. "But I mean, what would you do?"

"Well, we don't really know what you like right now, so this would be an experimental session. It will be shorter, and I will probably use a lot of different tools to try and find the things that get you going and the things that turn you off," she said. "I won't do any cutting play or anything super heavy like that for now; we will see how this session goes."

My heart was pounding more quickly in my chest; my excitement was mounting.

"Before we do anything, though, I need to know your limits and any medical problems you might be having right now of any nature," she said.

I proceeded to listen them, and we completed our negotiations. With the outline for play set in place, all that was left now was to wait on a room. I was super excited.

Once a room opened up, Kimberly and I headed into the area to set up. She took a moment to decide what she wanted to play me on, but eventually decided she wanted to play me as I was on my knees bent over an ottoman.

As she took her tools out, she positioned the ottoman so I would be able to look over and see what she was using. "Take off your top," she told me.

I removed my clingy hot pink fishnet shirt and the lacy, black bra beneath it. My DD breasts spilled out of their cups, my nipple rings flashing in the fluorescent light. I stood exposed, nothing but a transparent magenta, black, and lime striped thong covering my body. Everyone watching could see that I did not have a bush. I didn't feel embarrassed to be so naked, though; in fact, their gaze made me feel sexy and desired.

"Beautiful," came a whisper from behind me. I felt Kimberly's hands wrap around me and fondle my breasts, shifting my light brown nipples through her fingers. I gasped and felt the wetness gathering in the crotch of my nearly non-existent panties.

"Now bend over and hold your arms out," she instructed. I did so, the suede pressing against my breasts. Kimberly kneeled in front of me, holding up a container of clothespins; she proceeded to place them along the inside of my forearms. They pinched like crazy when she clipped them on, and left an insistent throbbing after they were attached to the skin of my arm.

"Ow!" I exclaimed. "I don't like that!"

She looked up at me, her eyes taunting me, a fake pout at her lips. "You don't like that? Okay, we will take them off."

She removed the clothespins and proceeded to move around back. My heart beat faster; every nerve was on edge in anticipation of what was to come.

"Now make sure you are a good girl and face forward," I heard Kimberly say. I immediately focused my eyes straight ahead of me, onto the face of someone I was an acquaintance with.

The instant after that I felt her palm connect with my ass cheek. It was light, almost playful. What followed was a series of light spankings that quickly got harder as my ass was warmed up. I found the sensation enjoyable, and liked my body trying to figure out if she was going to deliver a hard smack or a soft one.

Suddenly, there was an impact that drove my body further into the ottoman. I gasped as it happened again, and I realized she was punching my ass. No sooner did that thought occur did I experience a series of slaps to my back. I felt disoriented, on edge, and at one with what was happening to me. I felt very inside of myself.

Something sharp traversed the length of my back, something sharp and wonderful. I moaned a little bit as one blade seemed to roll across my back and ass and the other seemed to drag across it quickly. The thrill of having such sharp, sharp objects near delicate places on my body made me swoon. I felt each point that the tip of the blades touched with great awareness, and I loved it.

It was after this that the beating really started. After that point, I had no idea what Kimberly was doing. I was reduced to nothing more than a mess of nerves and sensations. My body would be forced to endure the cruel, methodical, scream-inducing application of things that stung; my skin would feel like it was on fire and then, without rest or respite, would be assaulted again. And then, it would be forced into the merciful pressure of thud that seemed to reverberate across my entire body in that state. It would make my eyes widen and elicit groans from my throat. I was caught between these two extremes, vacillating and riding the flow of sensation.

At one point as I lay there, the world seemed to change. It got fuzzy and far away; everything took on a distant quality. My head felt as if it were spinning a little bit, but not in an unpleasant way. If anything, I felt wonderfully detached. My whole body tingled with the feeling. At that point, Kimberly checked in with me.

"Are you okay?" She asked me, the glint of pleasure in her eyes mixed with concern.

"Uh huh," I managed.

"Okay," she replied, kissing my forehead.

"Kimberly?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Is the world supposed to be all far away?"

Kimberly laughed. "It looks like you hit sub space, dear. It's fine' it's a good thing."

"Subspace?" I asked. "Really?"

"Really really," she said.

"Okay," I contentedly sighed. Kimberly resumed using the wooden spoon she had on my back and ass.

Kimberly made me sing that night; she played my body like a musician plays an instrument. From the complex bundle of nerves that make up the human body she elicited responses in the forms of moans, cries, screams, and even laughter. It was a symphony of the purest kind imaginable, a symphony of sensation and suffering. I lost track of time as Kimberly took a ruler, a wooden spoon, a quirt, a belt, a paddle, two floggers and a number of other tools to my back and ass, but during that time I was completely lost in the symphony of my own cries, and completely at the mercy of Kimberly. Afterwards, as I lay half naked in Kimberly's lap, I felt a sense of peace. My mascara and eyeliner were all over my face, but I had never felt so content as I did after that beating. In her arms, I found deep solace. My breasts pressed against, and acutely aware of hers pressed against me, I felt that humility more than I ever had before and I felt it calling to me. I felt it urging me to yield, and for once I was not perturbed by its call. It felt...natural.

As Kimberly lay there stroking my hair, I surrendered to the need for not just humility, but the need to serve another. Perhaps even more so, I surrendered to the need to serve pain, the call for which was radiating throughout my very core. As I stared into those gorgeous brown-black eyes, full of intelligence and affection, I felt my relationship with Kimberly changing. And in that moment, I embraced it. As I floated in her arms, I was excited to see what the future had in store for us.