Letter To My Master

Master J,

It is strange that after all this time, I will, at last, see you again. Once again, I will kneel before you, seeking your guidance into this strange world. Yet as long as it has been, every second of our last encounter is etched permanently in my mind. Those few moments serve to define who I am underneath the trappings of the this day-to-day existence leaving me no choice but to acknowledge the part of me so carefully hidden from even myself.

Every remembered moment leaves me aching to travel further down this dark and mysterious path with you. Enticed as much by my fear as my desire, I find myself begging you to lead me to this hidden place, even though I am aware of the danger of finding myself… and losing myself. This endeavor that I had once naively considered a game, is now undeniably real as the forces that draw me to you.

Ah, but this is not what you have commanded of me. On these pages I am to describe a scene. Is it a fantasy you require, my master? Or is it a glimpse of yourself through the images of my darkest desire?

I close the door. I expect to be alone, yet I stand scanning the room for signs of you. There are none, save the blindfold you have placed on the table. In spite of it’s size, the sight of it dominates the room, and my thoughts. The temptation to reach for the door is great, but cannot override the curiosity and the force of your voice that echos within me.

I step away from the door, abandoning thoughts of escape. I notice my fingers are shaking as I slowly unfasten the buttons of my blouse. I ward off the panicked thoughts by concentrating on each of your instructions. I fold my blouse and set it on the chair, then step out of my skirt. The heat rising within me counteracts the chill of the air on my skin.

I focus my mind intently on each task, until at last, I have fastened the blindfold tightly over my eyes. Plunged into darkness, my fear mounts as I sink to my knees.

What if my Master does not arrive? What if he is not alone? What If… I struggle to staunch the flow of increasingly frightening scenarios that play in my head, as I wait facing the door that at once represents my freedom and my captivity.

The soft click of the door instantly suspends all thoughts. I fight to hear each small sound over the pounding of my heart. Scarcely aware that my fingernails are digging into my thighs, I kneel with my head bowed in frozen submission to you. Every sense is now focused on your presence. Here in the darkness behind the blindfold, I feel both isolated, yet surrounded by you.

I listen intently to the sound of your breathing as if somehow it will tell me what your silence does not. Cool leather encircles my throat, followed by a metallic click locking your collar in place, once again claiming me as your property.

Your soft, firm voice breaks the silence between us.

“Put you hands behind your back.” I do as you command, strangely relieved to now be able to take some action, even if it is only to surrender my last illusions of safety.

I feel cold steel enclose around one wrist and then the other. There is a short but eternal pause.

“Stand.” As I move to obey, I wonder if my legs, now curiously weak, will support me.

I hear the metallic ratcheting sound as you similarly bind my ankles. I instantly recall your instructions as if you told me only yesterday. Remembering the punishment I would receive should the chain that now tethers my ankles touch the floor, I quickly adjust my stance stretching the chain taut.

I stand reeling from this terrifying sensation of complete vulnerability, and await your instructions. Instead, I hear the soft rustling of paper, and I envision you quietly reading the pages I have placed on the table for you. I feel the heat rising to my face. I am as afraid that the words I have written will not please you, as I am afraid that you may choose to act out the dark scene I have so carefully crafted for you pleasure.

Finally, I hear a drawer slide open, then closed. Pain pierces me, I bite my lip to keep from crying out as you capture each nipple jaws of a tiny steel clamp.

“Do you like that, slave?”

Your voice draws my focus from the pain. No! But I choose a safer response.

“If it pleases you, Master”

“Well, it does. How many strokes do I owe you?”

“Seven, Master.”

“And how are you to respond to each stroke?”

“I am to count each stroke and say ‘Thank you, Master. May I have another, Master?’”

“That is correct.” I brace myself for the sharp sensation of the crop, but am startled by the warmth of your hand passing over my exposed flesh. Lost in the unexpected sensation, I am not prepared when the riding crop slices across my ass. I stifle my confused cry.

“One… Thank you, Master.” I say in a whisper. I can barely utter the requisite request for more. But more comes, and all of my doubts and fears vanish in the clarity of each flash of white hot pain. I struggle desperately to accept each stroke without flinching or crying out. I cling to my responses like a mantra. But each time the crop lands, etching a fiery trail onto my skin, I feel my control slipping away.

“Seven, Thank you, Master.” My punishment complete, I am grateful for the mask behind which I secretly work to gather my unraveling composure.

You release my hands from behind my back, and remove the shackles from my ankles. I long to see your face, but you do not uncover my eyes.

“Get down on your hands and knees.” I slowly sink down to the carpet. “Crawl.”

The crop slashes across my ass as I crawl across the room to the bed.

“Open your mouth, slave.” I expect your warm cock but instead you press a hard rubber ball between my lips. You command me to speak, but my words are stifled behind the gag. Satisfied, you then tell me to lie down on the bed.

“This is a spreader.” you say, as you cinch the thick leather straps around my ankles, securing the bar that forces my legs wide apart. Fear and raw desire grow equally inside me as you bind my wrists, and fasten my arms high above my head. Only the gag between my tightly stretched lips keeps me from begging you to fuck me now. But I know that I must earn the release that I hunger for.

I hear the strike of a match, and I can almost see the orange glow of the flame through the darkness. Instinctively, I pull against the ropes that render me helpless. You gently trace your fingers down my body, brushing the clamps sending ripples of pleasure and pain through me, then glide down over my stomach, teasing and taunting, stopping just short my wet, swollen pussy.

You release the blindfold, and I find myself frozen in your intense gaze, until, I remember my place and respectfully lower my eyes and see the white candle in you hand. I can do nothing but stare up at the flame as you tip it high over my body. I steel myself, but to my relief, the dripping wax does not hurt. I watch, mesmerized by the flame, as you paint a trail of warm wax down my body.

You lower the candle and pass it over me again, increasing the heat of the dripping wax. I draw a deep breath as the intensity grows. I feel you watching my face as you lower the flame closer until the molten wax forms a pool that sears my skin. Closing my eyes, I bite down on the gag.

“Open your eyes.” you tell me. I force myself to comply. I fight for breath, as you suspend the candle over the delicate flesh between my legs. The first drops land, melting my will. Without realizing it, I begin to writhe against the pain.

“Be still!” Though I fight to control it, my body disobeys as the wax burns my clitoris. You set the candle back on the nightstand. I sneak glimpses as you pull a length of rope from the drawer. In this brief respite I fight back the tears that had begun to gather in my eyes as you loop the rope around the bar between my ankles and secure it to the bed frame. I draw a shuddering breath dreading what is to come.

Once again, you are standing over me with the candle. You pause and I can feel you drinking in the fear in my eyes, before lowering the candle once again, this time only inches from cunt. Though I try to struggle my body is stretched tight, and I cannot shrink away from the punishing wax. I feel your hand parting my outer lips, the searing hot wax pour inside me. Lost in agony, I am barely aware of my own muffled screams as the heat consumes me. My useless struggle against the liquid pain cease as I surrender to it.

I open my eyes to see you standing over me, surveying my wax coated body.

“Now, I need to clean this off.” To my humiliation, I am not able to stop the flow of tears, as you move to retrieve yet another implement of agony from the drawer.

“This ought to do nicely.” You say, holding the whip over me, so that I may admire it’s wicked beauty. Forgetting myself, I shake my head frantically without taking my eyes from the oiled sheen of it’s many leather tails.

“No?” Your voice is sharp, with a tinge of amusement. “Are you actually telling me no?”

I hear the sound of the stiff braids of leather cutting through the air. My scream is trapped in my throat, as they crack down, ripping across my breasts. Please! I want to cry out, beg you for forgiveness, for mercy. My self control shatters and falls away like the wax. I can do nothing to contain the sobbing that erupts from the core of my soul. Like vicious serpents, each sharp tail of the whip descends again and again, greedily biting into the flesh of my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, and finally my soaked and throbbing pussy, driving me into a helpless frenzy through which no thought can form, just a sole phrase repeating over and over. ‘Please, Master.’

Cool wetness sends shockwaves of icy spasms through me, pulling me back from oblivion into the present. To my surprise, you have untied me and now gently pass the washcloth over the tracks left by the whip, wiping away the last traces of wax. I tremble at the sensation of fire and ice that covers me.

Setting the cloth down, you pull me to you, cradling my head in your lap. The tip of your cock parts my lips, and I am too weak to resist as you press my face against you, until your cock is wedged so deep in my throat that I cannot breathe. Slowly you begin to rock, your flesh slides between my lips. Instinctively, I suckle you, caressing your hardness with my tongue. A small flicker of victory sparks within me as I hear your soft moan. Almost unconsciously, I attempt to turn the tables. I want to see you lose control to the power of my lips and tongue.

But instead grab fistfuls of my hair holding me tightly, while increasing the momentum until you are deep inside me, demonstrating that the power will always be yours. I fight the urge to gag, trying to relax the protesting muscles to accept your thick, hard cock. My body tenses, my hands press back against you, but this only incites you to drive harder, bruising my lips, battering my throat. Finally, I feel the spasms pass through you into me as your cock erupts, hot cum flooding my mouth and throat.

Before I can recover completely, you slip the gag back between my lips. Through the haze of my exhaustion, I dread what else you could have in store. Gripping my knees, you roughly pull my wide legs apart. The cold air caresses my aching cunt. Your fingers invade me. Though I am unbound, I lay helpless as you fill me, pressing and probing until my body begins to respond, arching my hips to meet your thrusts. A moan of pleasure escapes me. You drive deeper and deeper into me, curling your fingers into a fist inside my pussy stretching me to the point of breaking. My body freezes in fear that one wrong move will rip me apart.

“Look at me.” you command. My eyes meet yours as you thrust your fist impossibly deep, impaling me past your wrist. I want to close my eyes to retreat into my private world, but I am trapped, completely exposed by your piercing stare.

“Cum now.” you command. Yet, I fight the riptide that threatens to pull me under. You thrust harder, brutally punching through my defenses, until I, your helpless puppet, can do nothing but succumb to the relentless waves that you send crashing over me in a sea of agony and ecstasy. I want to plead to you not to let me drown. And at this infinite moment, looking into your eyes, I see the truth so clearly… I am yours to save or destroy as it pleases you. I know without any doubt, that I am helplessly, hopelessly, and irrevocably… your slave.

Respectfully Yours,

sierra dawne