She knew refusing to suck his cock would have consequences. She took her duties as his sex slave seriously, but she hated being forced awake in the middle of the night for anything. She was only half awake, but awake enough to resist when he tried to pry her mouth open, awake enough to know she was being a bad slave, and too sleepy and cranky to care. He ended up raping her cunt that night; he got especially turned on when she was in no condition to resist, so he didn't mind too much. Still, he noted her disobedience, for future consideration, and let her go back to sleep.
He wanted to test her commitment. He wanted to push her boundaries. He told her that her punishment would take place at The Club, during one of their usual sessions, at their favorite party. He showed her a video of what he intended to do to her. She thought about it all week.
She dressed as he directed - sexy underwear, super short skirt, plunging neckline. She tried on multiple outfits until she found one he approved - scandalous enough to look hot but not so scandalous they'd be in trouble if they got stopped by a cop on the way. A black skirt so short it didn't cover her generous ass. A black thong, so it looked from the back like she was totally exposed. A black pushup bra for her 36DD tits. A sheer black shirt. He knew she felt sexier when she was dressed like a slut. He liked watching guys check her out when she was dressed that way. But for the trip, she put a long skirt and shirt over the slutwear.
After they parked, they sat in the car for a moment and went through the ritual they had developed - she told him that she was his slave, and he could do anything to her, even if she didn't want him to, even if it hurt. His eyes rolled up in pleasure as she said it, even though she'd been saying it for months, ever since she'd suggested adding sexual slavery to their marriage. She also told him how much she wanted him to do what he was about to do, even the punishment. She knew he needed emotional care both before and after hurting her.
As soon as they were past the cashier, he set down his toy bag and grabbed a fist of her hair - long, dark, perfectly straight - and twisted it until she whimpered. He pulled her close and kissed her, grabbing her big tits. He pulled a nipple free and pinched it, hard, until he felt her stiffen in pain. Then he ordered her to kneel there and wait for him, eyes on the floor, while he made arrangements with the event coordinator.
It was hard for her to keep track of how long he was gone. She could have counted the number of songs played by the DJ, but she was too jumpy; she could hear the other women already screaming, and the sound of heavy impact play already in process, even though it was still early. She knew it might take him a while to find some play space. She thought about the video he had shown her. He had been hesitant to show her this particular video because he was afraid it would turn her off, both to see it and to know that he liked it so much. It did not turn her off. She told him it was "intense" - the word she used to describe anything that hurt but gave her enough sexual satisfaction that she liked it anyway. She told him she was willing to do that for him, if it would please him. She loved making his fantasies come true. He was still astounded at how many fantasies had come true in just a few months of their new arrangement. He loved to hear her scream, not the play screaming from role playing, but the full out expression of pain and confusion when he tortured her. He still had trouble believing she would put up with it; it blew his mind that she liked it. She had told him several times that it sucked at the time, but she always found a way through the pain to some other place. At the end of each session, she treasured what he left her with - a welt, a bruise, an imprint deep in her skin.
He came back and ordered her to follow him. They had set up a futon under one of the large T's. The chains from the cross bar dangled near the edge of the futon, and a foam wedge was set up near the same edge, all draped with a plain white sheet. The toy bag was open and prepared. She saw the clamps; he hadn't tried them for real on her yet, just her finger, but she guessed how wicked they would feel. She felt that moment of dread in her stomach, but she kept walking until she was up against the futon.
He watched her take in the setup, watched her look at the clamps. He picked up the crop. The crop slid against her thigh
"Bend over." he ordered.
She bent at the waist and touched her hands to the floor, making the pitifully short skirt expose her entire ass to him. The thong was in her crack, leaving her butt cheeks bare to him. He tapped her with the crop in several places, but gently. It was still early. He forced her feet wider and continued tapping up between her legs, gently prepping her cunt. She felt that strange mix of fear and excitement and shivered. She thought about that line in Rocky Horror, the one about "I see you shiver with antici -".
"Stand up." he commanded. She turned to face him.
"Strip. Slowly. Remember, they are watching you."
He gestured with the crop around the room; her eyes flicked briefly to the side. Some people she knew and some she didn't. Some were watching intently and some were talking or watching other scenes. It didn't matter how many were or were not looking at her as she stripped.
She crossed her arms and slowly pulled the shirt over her head and draped it over the rack next to the futon. She pulled the skirt down and stepped out carefully, keeping the heels on for now. She placed the skirt next to the shirt and looked at him. She knew he didn't really care about the sexy underwear, but he loved making her take it off, especially in a room full of people. She popped the hooks on the back of the bra and shrugged out, letting her big tits swing freely. He gestured with his finger and she started twisting, making her tits shake for his enjoyment. She kept going, knowing he would punish her if she stopped before he let her. She glanced at his eyes, which were riveted on her chest. She glanced around, and noticed a few more people seemed to be watching, checking her out.
He told her it was enough, and gestured at her to remove her panties. She stepped out slowly, enjoying the feeling of the cool air and the cool eyes on her naked body. She put the bra and panties on the rack with the other clothes and stood still while he studied her.
"Shoes off."
She was never sure. He didn't really care about the footwear thing, but sometimes he liked the added torture of making her stand in uncomfortable shoes. She supposed since she would be on her back most of the night, it didn't matter. She bent over to unbuckle the straps, knowing she was showing her whole slit to anyone behind her.
He buckled cuffs on her wrists and ankles, then held the collar out to her so she could put it on without catching her hair in it. Something about these small rituals was calming to her after so many years of playing together. He clipped the collar closed and she let her hair fall.
"Lie down, hips on the cushion."
She scooted onto the futon and edged her bottom onto the wedge, her knees bent. She wasn't tall, so with the height of the wedge, her toes barely touched the floor. He connected her wrist cuffs, and then connected them with a length of chain to the post behind her. He connected each ankle cuff to a spreader bar, then picked up the whole bar. He balanced it on his shoulder while he connected the left cuff to the hanging chain, then let the chain take the weight of her legs as he connected her right cuff. She usually liked the spreader bar; she loved the feeling of not being able to close her legs, of being totally open to his every desire. Tonight all she could think about was how vulnerable her cunt was.
She looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He tugged her forward so her ass was right at the edge of the wedge, leaving a ripe target. With her legs caught in the spreader bar, she couldn't close them to protect her cunt. She felt like she should scream and fight, but she knew it was useless. She also knew she could stop him at any time, but in 20 years she had only broken a scene a few times; she hated doing it every time. Usually she could beg for mercy and usually he would back off after a few more strokes. Tonight, he had already warned her, would be a punishment, so there would be no mercy. Usually he would spread the lashes around, letting one area recover before the buildup became intolerable, but not tonight. Tonight he would push her beyond what was bearable, and keep going, and stop only if she used her safeword, only if she was in danger.
"Everything OK?"
He looked intently in her dark brown eyes. She could see how turned on he was by putting her in this helpless state. She nodded.
"Remember the rules."
She nodded again, closing her eyes against the surge of dread she felt.
"Look at me!" he commanded.