My slave collar is hidden under the collar of my coat, so as Sir and I walk into the street door of the dungeon, we look like any other couple. I am carrying my ordinary clothes in a bag, as I am wearing what Sir directed ... a flimsy set of underwear, an old dress, all of which he can cut or rip from my body. From the moment we walk through the door, I am under instructions to be silent, respectful, and without a will of my own. This I can do easily, I feel, as I know Sir and trust him absolutely.
I am lead into a room full of instruments of humiliation and torture. My eagerness wavers a bit. Fantasy is one thing ... this is flesh and whip reality. I try to look around me but Sir says softly 'look at the floor, not at the weapons, not at me' and I obey. Without a word, He pulls off my dress and drags me across the floor to lay me on a bench, pushing my arms and legs to hang down each side of the bench: my head hangs over one end. My wrists are cuffed together under the bench, and my ankles. My black leather hood is fitted into place, blinding me, partially muffling sound, only a mouth hole for breathing through.
As I lie helpless in front of him, I can hear Sir's breathing change and I know that he is excited. This will mean pain for me ... but also pleasure, if Sir allows it. He may not.
Blind and bound, every moment is like an eternity of nervousness till Sir's hands quickly rip apart the panties I am wearing, and He finishes the job with cold, cold scissors, drifting the steel blades over my labia and clit, pressing gently, reminding me how helpless I am. He rips and cuts my bra off too and without ceremony reaches into my pussy to check if I am wet. And of course I am. 'Hm' is all he says, but the disapproval in his tone worries me. I have been well told in advance that tonight is for His pleasure, not mine. I hear movement and tremble. When the flogger lashes at my exposed pussy I am not surprised but the strength of Sir's disapproval is in the lash, six hard strokes.
His warm hands drift over my breasts, tweaking the nipples, then twisting them till I gasp with pain. He checks my pussy again, roughly, and is not pleased with what he finds there. Without a word he strides a little way away ... I hear the clanking of chains and I shiver. He returns, loosens my bonds and helps me, none too gently, to my feet; drags me a little distance. Having had that brief glimpse of all the horrors of the dungeon, I am very, very worried.
Sir lifts my right leg and passes it over some hard wooden thing on the floor. More clanking of chains, while the wooden bar is lifted up between my legs, my thighs, till it is pressing against my pussy. Casually, my labia are parted and positioned one on each side of the wooden bar, and centimetre by centimetre, the chains are clanked and the bar rises deeper inside me till it almost lifts me off my feet. It hurts. I hold on to it with both hands till my hands are raised and chained above me. I rise to my tiptoes to get away from the pain and Sir cranks the chains a little more so that now I cannot rest back down again onto the soles of my feet: I am soon shaking with the exertion of standing on my tiptoes, and I have no choice but to sink onto the bruising hard sharp edge of the wood, deeper inside me, my whole weight suspended on my pussy. The pain is too much ... with difficulty I rise onto my tiptoes again but my legs are shaking and I know I will not be able to hold this position for long. Knowing that in moments I will have that hard pain inside me is bad enough, but suddenly I feel the soft stroke of the flogger on my back, and know that Sir wishes me to suffer pain in more than one area ... for his amusement.
After a few warm-up strokes, Sir settles into his hard-flogging rhythm and I am in such pain, between my pussy and my legs and my back, that the world is just a fog of pain and misery ... I cannot find anything erotic in this, and I am ready to weep, when the flogging stops and I feel Sir's warm fingers on my clitoris. To my embarrassment and horror, I cum almost immediately. The pain and pleasure mix as I jerk upon that unyielding, hurtful wooden bar.
"Slut" He says softly. And I know that though He made it happen to me, He is not pleased that I came, especially without asking for His permission. I will pay for that orgasm.
I am almost falling down with exhaustion now, and mercifully I hear the chains clanking again and the wooden pony sinks down out of my bruised, dripping cunt and towards the floor. I hardly have time to breathe again, though, before Sir yanks my collar and lead, and hauls me in another direction, positioning me very precisely, hard against what feels like a wooden wall. But it is not a wall. My arms are stretched up and out, and clamped to boards ... the same with my feet. I have been secured to a St Andrew's Cross.
His fingers ram hard into my pussy with no warning. I try not to gasp, but the sudden friction as he plunges in and out of me is too exciting, I cannot resist, my back arches, out of control and I try to twist and turn till some part of some finger touches my swollen clit. Of course He knows what I am doing because He knows me ... and he stops. I hear him walk across the stone floor, press a buzzer, and then return. Who has he called?? Is there food or drink coming? I realise how thirsty I am, and I hope desperately for water.
The door opens and someone comes in. Not a word is exchanged between this someone and Sir ... whatever is going on has been planned well in advance of our arrival tonight. Blind behind my mask, I am now extremely nervous. And when I hear two sets of booted feet approaching my body, the nerves turn to real fear. I am totally exposed and vulnerable, and Sir has brought another pair of eyes to feast upon my humiliation! A stranger! Rough hands pull my labia apart .. I think they are His hands ... and His voice says coldly 'There is the cunt for your use ... use it as you see fit'. Oh no. I am trembling with fear now and I think a little pee has escaped and is trickling down my legs. I am blushing with shame.
Sir's hands now cup my breasts, lifting them gently and letting them fall.
"She has reasonable tits" he says in a business-like manner "and she can take a fair bit of pain there. And on her ass. And her cunt, of course. Enjoy yourself. Think I'll go get a hamburger or something .. want anything? No? Okay .. see you in half an hour or so then." And I hear his feet heading to the door, the door opening and closing, and silence. Then the silence is shattered by very loud music -- Ravel's Bolero -- crashing about my ears.
Even if I was permitted to speak, which I am not, I would not be able to say a word, I am so appalled at what my Master has done. Does he know this man? Is this another Master, or just a player? Is it even a man? Am I safe?
