As I waited in the Punish Room the following night, a teardrop slipped from my eye, rolled carelessly down my cheek, and fell silently on my naked breast. I knew at once it was a happy tear, because I was David's full-time "Sex-Slave". Sex-Slave. The words were new to me, but the meaning was clear. I was his, to do whatever pleased him, whenever it pleased him. And pleasing him was now my sole mission in life.
I stood there, naked and shivering, my hands at my sides, waiting for my beloved Master. The single overhead light bulb, directly above me, illuminated my body. My chest heaved. He kept me waiting for almost twenty agonizing minutes, knowing that with each passing moment my mind would be racing with thoughts of what he might do to me here in this scary room.
The door opened behind me. I shuddered reflexively. He moved stealthily behind me, his feet almost silent on the carpeted floor. Without a word, he placed a blindfold over my eyes, then tied it behind my head. All of a sudden my world was darkness. The cuffs were next. The fur-lined leather was drawn tightly around each wrist.
"Raise your right hand above your head," he commanded.
I complied, only to find him tie a rope, hanging limply from a rafter above, to the chrome right wrist cuff. As soon he tied it, the rope tightened considerably.
"Now your left hand," he ordered.
A moment later I was standing there in the middle of the room, naked and blindfolded, my arms over my head, tethered by ropes to the wooden rafter.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked, still standing behind me.
I had to laugh to myself. Is one ever "comfortable" hanging naked from the rafters? But I nodded affirmatively. Yes, I had already learned to speak only when given permission. And I was to learn that "comfort" was really only a small part of my new world. I had readily agreed to his terms: he would never permanently mark me and my safe-word, "Mercy," was my way out of anything I found too painful or too demeaning. I trusted David implicitly.
He stood behind me, his voice barely above a whisper in my ear. "Tonight you are going to learn about pain and pleasure, and how these terms are interchangeable. I am going to whip your body as I please, to test your limits, to teach you things you could never have imagined. We will start out slowly, but by the end of this session you feel such exquisite pain that your mind will spin. You may speak, Beth. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," I replied, the only words I had exchanged with him in over an hour.
"Spread your legs wider," he said, in a firm voice.
I grasped the rope above me in my hands for better balance, then opened my legs as best I could. Immediately, David's hand moved between my legs, from behind, and flattened against my vulva. His middle finger stole easily between the puffy lips and into me. I gasped out loud. His finger made a familiar squishing sound inside my vagina.
"My, isn't my little Beth wet this evening. Even the thought of a whipping turns her on, you sweet slut!"
I threw my head back in pleasure as his finger circled inside me, gathering my moisture from within. A moment later he withdrew the finger abruptly, then brought it upward in front of me, glistening, to my lips.
"Open," he commanded.
I did, and his finger entered my mouth.
