The boy found himself squatting, not kneeling nobly, or standing strong like a man, but squatting, naked and uncomfortable on a little wooden stool. His knees had been drawn up and cuffed to the harness that crisscrossed his chest, his arms wrapped around them and cuffed securely as well. Hours had passed it seemed, since he had been left here in the dark behind his blindfold, listening to his own breathing, and inhaling the scent of leather and candles. He squirmed against his bonds, "this is NOT what I signed on for," he thought bitterly.
He did not hear the door open, but he felt the cool breath of air spreading across his back like silky fabric, and the answering trail of gooseflesh curling up his spine. He could not see his Mistress enter, but he could smell her skin, warm and spiced like jasmine and cinnamon, and he could hear the soft folds of her robe whisper as she passed. He arched, leaning forward straining for her attention, willing himself with clenched teeth to be silent (he had learned at least that much), but she was gone, he could hear the soft hush of fabric as she settled into the soft velvet chaise against the wall.
He sagged slightly and sighed, dropping his head to rest on his knees. More waiting it seemed.
"Sit up straight, boy!" and he did, flinching away from the hissing voice at his ear. It was Susanna, he had not felt her come in either, had not heard the telltale clink of the chain around her waist, but he could feel her now, her fingers curling into a fist in his hair, her breath hot against his cheek. Fingers stroked his forehead tenderly, and then his head was wrenched back, almost unbalancing him from his stool. Then he felt her legs smooth and cool against his back, keeping him from falling, and her grip in his hair subsided.
She spoke again, her voice softer this time, "be ready baby, we are getting ready to start." And she pressed her lips against his for the shortest moment, before stepping away and allowing him to crash to the floor. He suppressed a growl of frustration and rocked back and forth on his back, trying to right himself.
"Be still." The Mistress had not spoken loudly, barely above a whisper, but it felt like a thunderclap in his chest. And he was still.
He heard Susanna's feet padding softly over the floor, and the tiny sigh that escaped from her as she lowered her body to the ground before the Mistress. He heard the murmuring of voices, like waves washing over one another far, far away, and then the low moan that betrayed Susanna each time she reached for her Mistress's kiss. "For your pleasure Ms," Susanna said, her voice husky, dark and hungry.
Fluttering fingers and soft metallic snaps announced the freedom of his legs, and he groaned as he was finally allowed to stretch his long limbs. He opened his mouth to thank her, but felt smooth fingers pressed to his lips.
"UP!" the word was clipped and short, the kind of command he would give to his dog, and like a dog he scrambled to obey, only to find his hands still secured to the cuffs about his thighs. Awkwardly he pulled his knees beneath him, before he could steady himself a hard shove sent him tumbling forward and he yelped reflexively, catching the force of the fall on his shoulder, barely saving his face and nose from crashing into the floor.
"Go and thank your Mistress for this privilege" Susanna's voice was cold and hard, with a lilting distain that set his teeth on edge. He hesitated for a moment, rebellion roiling in his gut. From Ms, yes he would bear this kind of treatment, but from Susanna? The bitch.
He yelped as a stripe of fire erupted across his upturned ass. The sound of the strap cracking against his skin made him jump more even than the pain of it. He set his teeth, swallowing the puppy-like yip that threatened to leap from his throat as the strap fell again, once, twice. Instinctively he shied away from it, rolling onto his side.
"No, no, no," Susanna's voice sounded tired now. He felt her fingers wrap around the back of his neck, and begin to burrow into the soft skin there pulling him up, then driving him forward on his knees. "NOW, move." The strap fell across his shoulders driving him forward. He grunted shuffling on his knees across the floor until he felt the soft fingers of his Mistress, pressing against his head. He stopped, and knelt there, head drooping, breathing hard. Her hand slid down the side of his face, and he bent his chin, filling her palm with loving kisses.
"Thank you Ms, thank you..." he breathed, filling his nostrils with the scent of her. And the fire rained down on him again. He bent forward, resting his head on his Mistress's silk covered thigh wincing and hissing through his teeth, the weight of her hand on his head the only thing keeping his cries at bay.
He shivered at the touch of her lips at his ear. "That's a good boy," she purred as the strap slipped over his head and around his neck, cinching down constricting his throat. Susanna hauled on the belt, her knees pressed into his back, helping him to scramble to his feet. She led him to the center of the room, holding onto his shoulders. He felt spindly and unsteady, like a newborn colt, and when she stepped away from him, he actually stumbled.
He stood waiting, silence spreading out from him like a stain on the floor, the room growing somehow until it felt the size of an aircraft hanger. He felt slightly dizzy, unanchored, unsure.
"Go to the bookshelf, remove the box from the third shelf."
He paused, turning slightly, mind spinning, working to get his bearings within the room.
Susanna sighed in faux exasperation. "Turn to your left. Stop. Take three steps forward." The boy moved slowly, feeling as though he were balanced on a ledge. She directed him around the room, until he reached the shelf. "Bend forward slowly, and take the ribbon in your teeth. Carefully...carefully," she coaxed him along until he felt a soft fabric brush his cheek, the scent of cedar and leather and mint filling his nostrils. He stood slowly, the weight of the thing threatening to pull itself from his grasp. He bit down hard and waited for instructions.
He could hear the smile in Susanna's voice now. "Turn around, take three steps and stop." He did so, and suddenly an image flashed through his mind like cold water. What must he look like, standing here shiny leather across his chest and over his eyes, cock at half-mast, a ribboned box dangling from his lips. Suddenly he felt foolish, and the slow anger began to creep into him again. She loved to humiliate him, he knew. He knew she was getting him back for the beatings he himself had given, for times he had made her scramble and fetch and beg. He could hear his Mistress speaking with Susanna softly, again, the murmuring of waves. It was almost more than he could bear. What had ever made him think that he could do this?
“Spread your feet, stand strong.” Her voice regained its acid coldness as he obeyed her. He was circling, taunting him. “What was the lesson you taught me boy? Be ready always?”
He felt a stinging slash across his buttocks like nothing he had ever experienced before, a deep searing pain as though molten wire had dragged across his tender skin. He cried out, remember only at the last moment not to drop the ribbon between his lips.
“Which implement is it that you fear the most?” She was circling again, and the image of the whistling cane flashed through his mind. The cane yes! How had she known? “Mmmm the cane, yes,” she said as though she had read his thoughts. “The cane, because I could see the fear of it in your eyes each time you used it on me.” Susana punctuated the last four words with four perfectly spaced lashes of the cane down the backs of his thighs. He screamed through clenched teeth and felt sweat break out all over his body. She stepped close to him, the heat of her skin spreading over the burning lines like silk. She kissed his shoulder tenderly, and slipped the smooth cold length of the cane between his buttocks and tipped it down to tap gently against his testicles.
“What a little slut you are Sir”, she said, the sarcasm on the word ‘Sir’ stinging more than the cane. “All this time, beneath that tough exterior, just a wanton little pain slut. Ms can see how hard your cock is from all the way across the room.” She stepped away from him, circling around to his front. “And what a naughty little cock, pumping into the air uselessly, what a waste.” Gently she tapped the cane against his cock, and a rush of panic surged through his chest. GOD no no, not the cock.
There was a pause and an intake of breath as Susanna drew back her arm and then the whistling through the air, and he screamed, dropping the box sinking to his knees. He gasped as he felt the wind from the blow sweep before him. She hadn’t missed…she hadn’t intended to hit him, it was a mind fuck. Again, he felt the anger boil in his chest.
Susana gasped as well in mock horror. “What the HELL do you think you’re doing!” she snapped and gripped his hair, dragging him to his feet, she laid a hard stinging slap on his buttocks with her hand. “Take it!” she snarled shoving the ribbon so roughly into his mouth that he spluttered and gagged.
“Susana” At the sound of her name from her Mistress’s lips Susana dropped the cane and stepped back, trembling slightly.
"Come hear boy," his Mistress said. "Follow my voice." She continued to speak to him, cooing softly and he stepped carefully one foot before the other until he felt her hand on his thigh. He was trembling. "Would you like Susanna to take your blindfold off now, so that you may see the gift that you have brought to me?" Gently she lifted the box, taking it away. With silky fingers she stroked his chest, allowing her hand to trail down his belly gentle as raindrops. Tenderly she stroked his swollen penis, caressed his balls, and he sighed, swaying on his feet. Her featherlike fingers turned suddenly to steel around his balls gripping them hard enough that he saw spots behind the blindfold.
“Don’t you ever, EVER” she squeezed, “Try to run from a blow again.” She released him, rolling her thumb over the glistening head of his cock. “Do you understand?”
“Y-y-yes Ms, yes,” he stammered feeling dizzy. Quickly, Susana unclasped the buckles which held his hands to his thighs. “Please Ms, please may I see you? Please?” he breathed, surprised at how easily the supplicating whine slipped into his voice.
There was a pause, and then a gasp from Susana, and the sound of fabric rustling, and the clinking of buckles and straps. “But I’m afraid to hurt him Ms,” Susanna whispered.
“What now”, he thought miserably, “What now?”