S&m - the Mistress in Leather

Well, he'd come so far already... it would be silly to turn back now. All the way into the city, standing right outside the BDSM club, dressed to kill in a sharp black suit, yes, it would be pathetic to turn back now. So, with a deep breath, he climbed out of his SUV, locked it, and walked up to the entrance. There wasn't a bouncer, there didn't have to be. This club looked like a factory, a rusted hulk. A dump, complete with litter. The door, however, did look a bit too well kept to match the building. It looked impregnable. And there was a discrete security camera just above it.

The voyeur in the suit looked up into the camera, took another breath (we'll now see how good that password on the forum discussion last night was, he though) and then said out loud, "The maker sent me his calling card."

And nothing happened. Except, of course, he could feel the rising heat of a blush, combined with the panic of that comes with being a fool. But then, with a loud click, a lock opened up, and the door swung back. He could have hesitated, but somehow knew it wouldn't stay open for long, so he dashed inside. Would she be here?! His mistress, he had discovered, had another interest beside the odd frolic or dinner with him. It turned out, he had been led to know, that she had recently discovered the joys of being a slave. He hadn't been shocked of course, jealousy was for young people, or fools who didn't learn the true meaning of love: trust. So here he was, with his cock already half hard at the thought of seeing when or what she was doing here. He wasn't prepared at all, though, for what he saw.

The club was packed, and loud. Oh my Gods, it was just full of music and voices. And screaming. Yes, loud screams of very realistic pain. Jesus, what the fuck, he recognised that voice.. well scream. He looked around, and then he saw her. On a side stage, in front of a whole audience of leather-clad or basically naked people. His mistress. Was he angry? Confused? Hardly, he felt himself glowing with pride. Standing up straighter, taking command of himself, he projected his usual bubble of power and charm, and moved through the crowd to the side of the stage.

There was a trestle, covered in black padded leather. The stage was also black (all things BDSM tended to that most base, erotic, colour - an inky darkness, in which to play out fantasies) and it was lit subtly from all four corners.

A man in a suit, but with his jacket off, and his white shirt sleeves rolled up, workman-like, was standing on the stage, a long cane in his hand. It was the cause of the screams.

The person doing the screaming was bent over the trestle. Her small hands were looped and cuffed to the bottom cross-bar, through purpose-built metal eyes. Likewise her legs too were cuffed, the ropes also tied off on metal rings. She was, if point of fact, incapacitated. Able to move just enough to give her the hope of avoiding the blows, but not enough to actually cause them to miss anything sensitive. It was a perfect situation - the balance of power. He was going to look more closely, as she was currently not moving, tired out, and sore, she was just trying to breath around the ball gag lodged securely in her mouth... when her torturer decided to land another blow.

She had obviously forgotten about him. And it caught her by surprise. Fuck, but he didn't hold back. The whip carved through the air, then landed with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp and ooh out loud! His mistress paused just a moment, then let rip with a gargled scream around the ball gag. Her mouth full of spit, the scream didn't escape as loudly as before. But he could see the veins standing out on the side of her neck and head.

"Waaaaaaaaaaah Waaaaaaaaah", she cried, "Fuuuuck!". Well is seemed like she said fuck.

Long arcs of spit dripped from her mouth and gag. She was breathing so loudly too, great gasping breaths. And her hips moved from side to side, as if she was trying to rub her bum against something, anything, even the air, to relieve the pain. The torturer put his hand down, making her flinch, then rubbed her arse, all red and raw, gently, like he held a thing of beauty. Her sobs of relief made everyone gasp too. But, how long would this last? You could almost hear everyone thinking the same thought, just as his Mistress was... how long will this love, this pause, last?

Ha! It was fantastic! His penis was so hard. Wow!

He took a moment to look more closely at her then. Her legs were covered in stockings, thigh-highs, that had fallen down to her knees. She was bare breasted, but was wearing a halter around her neck. A leash dangled, forgotten, from the halter to the floor. Her bum, though red, was so perfect. Milk white and smooth. Her vagina slightly open, as her legs were pulled apart by the trestle, showing pink skin and slick, wet juices. There too, like her mouth, a long string of moisture hung down to touch the inside of her thigh. She was so wet she had liquid running out of her pussy! He swallowed at the sight. There's hot, and then there's just mental. Pure lust. This was the latter.

Her pink rose of an anus was also open for all to see, completing her degrading humiliation. It was also wet, with the sweat of her exertions under the cane.

The torturer removed his hand... everyone drew breath in a communal sigh, his Mistress tensed up! And she started to thrash about, desperate to escape the cane! But the torturer had another idea. The voyeur in the suit had contacted the club earlier on. He had paid them money. And his Mistress didn't suspect. She had been asked to give her permission to be fucked that night, by three men, vetted by the club. She had accepted. What she didn't know, was that one of them would be her lover, the voyeur in the suit.

So the torturer, leaning down to her, whispered in her ear, "Don't worry slave, you don't deserve a rest... so although there will not be another whipping with the cane, there will be something else."

She turned her head, trying to ask a question around the gag. The torturer leaned in closer, to satisfy himself that she wasn't saying her safe word. Then he smile, and said, "A true slut. Beautiful!", as she hadn't said the word, no she was just trying to plead with him to reveal the next torture. A vain hope to try and prepare herself in some way. It's wasn't to be... the torturer just stepped behind her.

His mistress carried on trying to suck in air, and turn her head to try and see what was happening behind her.

Two other men stepped up. And her lover the third, but she couldn't see. The first man moved forward, undid his belt buckle, and zipped down his pants. His hard cock was already out, poking through the front of his boxers. The crowd applauded, and he laughed!

His mistress went quiet, the crowd knew what was going to hap - waaaah! A hard cock thumped into her slick pussy, and she felt a pair of balls knock against her leg. Then the next thrust arrived, before she could scream again!

Instead, she started to moan. The cock fucking her cunt, hard pounding moves, felt so God damned good. Her rapist's tummy pressed against her sore red bum cheeks and that felt so good too. She knew, without a doubt, that she was going to cum right there, in a matter of seconds. And she did, her arse bucking against the cock as it fucked her senseless. Grunting, the man came inside his condom, thumping into her spasmodically as he came, in time to her straining against her bonds like a person possessed, as she too came.

Then he withdrew, and she slumped, going back to trying to suck enough air around the gag.

The next man stepped up. She hadn't recovered! Screaming anew, she tried to escape his first hard thrust... but he held her small, perfect round hips hard, and then gently (what?!) slid his huge penis into her vagina. He was tall, and very big. He knew it, and he had also been to the club often enough to know exactly what to do as the second man in the line. So he softly, gently, and rhythmically fucked her cunt. In... out, in.. out. His mistress wiggled about, but the lust took her. She could feel this other man's huge cock rubbing past the front of her vagina, over he G-spot. Slowly, tantalisingly. Holy fuck, she could feel another orgasm building. It was too much, she thought, she was at the point of passing out! But she managed to hold on, till panting and grunting she came again, gushing her cum over the man's huge cock. He carried on for a while after, till, his eyes rolling back in his head, he too came, deep inside her cunt, his condom filling up till it was taut.

Then he too withdrew, and his mistress drooped with exhaustion. Her legs against the trestle, her arms limp. The torturer stepped up, and released her gag. Oh good grief, the release! The freedom. It felt so fucking good. He held a bottle of water to her mouth. Wait! That hand was not the same!! Who the fuck was this? Then it hit her. She recognised the scars, the marks. Those hands belonged to her lover! Vainly she tried to turn around and look at him, but she couldn't. Then she felt a touch of his other hand on her red, stinging bum. Rubbing it like the torturer had. She was close to crying now, it felt so good. He was pouring some sort of cooling liquid onto her... and it felt heavenly.

Then his hand slid down a bit, and ran over her swollen pussy lips. She thought she couldn't do it, but instead she felt the blood running again to her clit. It throbbed. It wanted to be touched. Her lover knew what to do. Third man in the line, he didn't take his penis out. He sank to his knees, and leaned forward, till his mouth softly covered her vagina. He sucked her clit. Rolled his tongue around it in circles, and licked her vagina lips. He teased her, and she responded. Pushed over the edge by the whole experience, she had gone to that place where a mind no longer gives a fuck about who or what is happening. Lust has taken over. She wanted him with all her heart, tied to that trestle, unable to move more than centimetres.

His tongue kept up it meaningful licking. And her clit hardened till it felt like a stone. He carried on... and then it hit her. Like a wall, veins standing out, hands ripping against the cuffs, legs splayed wide, she orgasmed. Her juices gushed over her lover's face, and he swallowed all that he could. Screaming again, she came and came and came.

When it all ended, and she was ruined, the torturer came back to untie her. Her lover stood at the back of the crowd now, a gentle smile playing on his face. This was her place of escape, and he must not intrude fully, except to play every now and again. It was sublime, and they both knew it.