A Sacrificial Lamb Ch 01

This is my first foray into erotic writing and what a strange and a dark journey my mind has taken! This is the beginning of something much bigger. I would really appreciate your comments and of course, ahem, your votes! Thank you Carlton_11 for your editing and helpful advice, you've been a god send.

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The slamming of the door was worse than any slap I would ever endure. I had displeased my Master.

I sit huddled in the middle of the floor, clutching the remnants of my torn dress; the blue satin cool upon my hot skin. Taking a deep breath, I do battle with my desire to just walk out, to leave behind my submission, to make Master see that he would be nothing without me.

I choke back the tears, knowing that I am just fooling myself. If I were to walk out, he would never take me back, I had tried his patience too many times; that much was obvious. Why else would he command me to dress as a slut and leave me to my own devices? Normally he was so meticulous when it came to his treasured prize whore.

I rise up from my knelt position, my muscles shaking with tension and pent up frustrated desire. My Master had teased me mercilessly, bringing me so close to the edge, where I love to plummet from and give myself completely over to him. But, he withdrew. Knowing me so well, he left me cruelly teetering on the edge. There was to be no release, a cruel torture even for my Master.

Walking unsteadily into the bathroom, the click of my satin heels sounds hollow upon the marble tiles. Gripping hold of the white basin, I lift my head to look at my face, surprised to see no bruise rising on my cheek where Master had struck me in his anger. Only a dull ache is reminding me of what had happened. Touching my cheek gingerly I wince. I am ashamed at my make up, which is smudged with my tears. I reach for the make up remover then stop myself, remembering Master's words.

"Leave your make up as it is slut, you do not deserve to look pretty, you have shown me what a whore you are." His thumb drags heavily over my red painted lips, smearing my cupids bow.

I look again at myself in the mirror; the black mascara is smudged, emphasizing my blue eyes; making them deeper, darker; masking any innocence that I may usually show. My red lips are full and wanton, "the perfect mouth to suck cock."

I drag my fingers through my tousled long red hair, removing the dainty clasps that hang on by barely a strand. Turning away from the mirror I walk into the wardrobe, delving into the darkness. I retrieve the clothes I had last worn, before I accepted Master's collar and entered into his service. Gathering the clothes close to my naked form, I return to the bedroom. I place the short black satin circular skirt, the white gauze blouse and wide white net petticoat upon the four poster bed. I run my hands lovingly over the garments, kicking off my blue satin shoes. My feet sink into the thick plush carpet. I move soundlessly over to the large oak carved chest of drawers, pulling the smallest compartment open, and look down upon a black lace Basque and thong panties.

I'm concerned that wearing these may be taking my Master's command a little too far, but he did order me to dress as a slut and I shall fulfil his desires. Grinning devilishly, I pull out the Basque, knowing, or should I say hoping, that this may soften his resolve a little. I Slide the Basque over my head and pull it down to cling over my soft feminine curves; clutch hold of the ribbon and pull it tightly, forcing my breasts against the sheer material. My breasts are pushed up into a deep creamy cleavage; two tiny cups of lace mask my nipples. I step into the thong; the thin piece of material pulls up between my well rounded bottom cheeks. The gusset barely covers my shaven mound. I stroke myself through the silken material, still so wet.

"Mmmmm, "I sigh, removing my hand before I get too carried away and forget my duties.

Bending over, I slide the tan hold-ups down my legs, and kick them into a corner. I take black fish nets out of a draw and pull them quickly into place, my hands sliding down over the suspender clasps, pulling them tightly, ensuring that the seam is perfectly straight. The straps push into my soft flesh. "Perfect, "I think. I slap my rump playfully, I'm growing more confident as I adorn the outer clothes. The gauze blouse is barely hiding the jet black Basque. I fasten up the buttons to my neck, the high collar framing my oval face and step into the net skirt, so short and wide that it barely covers my stocking tops as it fans out. Slipping the black skirt over my head and letting it settle over the full white net I giggle at the irony of the white petticoat; so virginal.

"Sally!" I jump as I hear my Master's voice. "Are you ready slut? "

"Yes Sir, just give me a moment. "

My confidence drains as I look into his cold dark eyes. Quickly stepping into the black patent stilettos, my toes cry in protest at the tight confinement I am forcing them into. I walk over to my Master for his inspection, head chastely bowed.

"I am ready Sir. "My voice catches in my throat.

"Not quite yet Sally."

My Master's hand tilts my chin up, pulling me towards him. My heart is pounding as I prepare for his kiss; my eyes are fluttering beneath their closed lids. His hands trail softly down my neck and over my shoulders; my lips ache for his kiss, and then my eyes fly open as his hands tear at the gauze blouse, revealing the black Basque underneath; my cleavage is revealed to any that would look upon me. Any teasing sensuality is now gone from my garb.

"You are a slut, Sally, a whore, and tonight you are going to be treated as such," he tells me harshly. "I want you to go to the kitchen; you're to serve my guests tonight. "

His hand softly strokes my cheek, where he had struck me earlier. A deep growl is in his voice: "I cannot guarantee they will act gentlemanly to you, my sweet little submissive." Grasping my chin in his hand with a vice like grip, he forces me to look into his eyes.

"˜Nor shall I prevent them from doing what they want with you. Remember this is a punishment Sally - or should I call you Tara? "

I gasp as I am called by the name he first knew me by, and turn my eyes away from his; my cheeks are flushing in shame. He releases his grip on my chin.

"Go now my guests are waiting, don't disappoint me slut."

I nod mutely and turn towards the back stairs, feeling my Master's eyes upon me, yet when I turn to look at him; he is gone from the hallway.

The kitchen was hot and humid, a writhing mass of people, bustling about with important tasks, a cacophony of yells and bashing pans. I slip into a darkened corner, terrified to step into the mayhem.

"Ah there you are Cherie! "

A soft hand encircles my wrist and pulls me into the light. I bow my head, casting my eyes down upon the butler's shiny black shoes.

"Tsk, tsk," Henri clucks like a mother hen, "now child there's no need to bow your head in my presence."

Tilting my head up and letting out an audible sigh, he reaches for a white linen handkerchief, moistens it and wipes the smeared lipstick away. I gently push Henri's hand away. I look forlornly into his soft brown eyes. He is always so caring, so tender; he is a good friend and confidante since I have come into the house. He has quite literally taken me under his wing.

"What am I to do with you child! Will you never learn? You are certainly testing Sir's patience," he admonishes.

I move to speak, protesting my innocence, but Henri's finger silences me.

"No, no, child you are far too impetuous, learn the rule of silence, bend your will Sally. Then you will know true happiness." Henri looks down upon me sadly shaking his head. "Now take a tray of drinks and begin your punishment."

I looked surprised; not realizing it was so serious that Master had informed Henri. This meant that in a while the unessential staff would be dispensed with, and then the party would really begin. Taking the tray in my hands, my nerves make the glass tinkle sharply. Henri rests his hands reassuringly upon my shoulder and presses his warm lips against my cheek, before pushing me through the door.

The reception room was gaily lit, adorned with silver and gold decorations; cherubs heralding a new enterprise and angels smiling benignly down upon the guests. The men were dressed in tuxedos, a sea of black and white, which contrasted with the bright vibrant colours of the ladies. I recognise a few of the guests; and the husbands had not brought their wives. I slowly step into the milling crowd, offering champagne to any who would take it. This was not the first time I had been to one of these parties, but before I had been one of those strutting peacocks, adorned in all the finery a lady could acquire with the help of her benefactor.

Sighing heavily, I realise how drastically my life had changed. I belonged to one, and with that came a responsibility that I was ill equipped to handle. I was brought back to reality as another glass was lifted from my tray. I straightened myself and breathed deeply, lifting my head up defiantly, smiling to hide my shame. My false bravado crumples as I see the glances of the men, as they take in my garb. My cheeks are flushing, I am wishing I could button up my blouse, and protect myself from the lascivious stares. I drop my eyes down to the slowly emptying tray to avoid catching the eyes of Master's guests.

A neatly manicured hand stops me. "Why if it isn't Tara?" I look up on hearing a familiar voice. Inwardly I groan as I see Savannah, impeccably dressed with her neck laden with glistening diamonds. Her fingers softly stroke the cold stones; and she smiles at me.

"I thought you had moved up in the world darling!" Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Now I hear you're to be tonight's entertainment!"

Just as I am about to retort, I notice my Master taking Savannah's hand and kissing it, before wrapping one arm around her slim waist. He leans in and kisses her neck, not even acknowledging me. Savannah's face is a picture. She is gloating, knowing that what was mine is now hers; even if only for the evening. I stand motionless, my fingers curl around the silver tray and the knuckles go white as my stomach starts to churn. I quickly turn on my heels before I give Savannah the satisfaction of seeing the tears in my eyes. I push my way through the crowd, holding the tray high. How could my Master be so cruel: Savannah, of all the women he could have chosen, why her?

Suddenly I am yanked backwards, the tray clatters to the floor as my hand flies back to clutch a hand that has entwined itself into my long red hair. "Let me go!" I cry. The stranger pulls me back against his chest. A roughly shaven chin presses down upon my shoulder.

"Oh no, you don't get away that easily. Your Master has told us all what a slut you are and free to anyone this evening."

The man's hands move down to my breasts, gripping them tightly. I struggle to free myself, but his grip merely tightens, crushing my soft flesh.

He whispers huskily into my ear: "I want to be the first."

His hands tear at the black Basque, grabbing my breasts and pulling them out of their black constraints, and his fingers viciously pinch my nipples. Ignoring my cries and struggles, he bites down upon my neck. Bending my knees I manage to slide from his grasp, stumbling slightly as I regain my balance. Desperate for freedom, I bolt towards the kitchen door. Grabbing hold of my torn Basque, I cover myself, and I stifle my sobs and reach the first step. Five more steps and then I will be safe, Henri will protect me.

My foot rises, reaching up for the second step. My heart is pounding desperately. I scream as the stranger's hands grab my waist pulling me back. I start punching the hands that grip so tightly around my waist, but his strength is too much for me to handle and he drags me back into the centre of the room. I twist around, not losing my will to fight, even though the odds are against me. I lash out like a wild cat; my pointed shoe making contact with his shin. He curses and lets me go. As his fingers release my waist, I lose all balance and fall onto my knees.

The commotion draws my Master's attention. As I make to stand up I see him striding towards me, and collapse back down onto my knees. I look up at him with tear filled eyes, begging desperately for his forgiveness. He does not even acknowledge me as his face sets like stone.

He nods. "You may Giles; she needs to be taught a lesson."

The bite of leather lands upon my back, a sharp tendril whipping against my cheek.

"Master please!"

Another lash strikes my back as it concaves away from the strips. I am pleading, but his face is cold, expressionless, his eyes dead. My arms buckle from under me, pressing my cheek against the cold parquet floor. I close my eyes, spread my arms wide, and lift my bottom high in the air, wincing but suppressing my cries as the whip bites down again and again and again.

"Now get up slut!"

I draw myself up, shifting on my knees to turn and face Giles, bowing my head in submission.

"I'm sorry Sir."

Without a word, a blindfold is placed over my eyes, plunging me into terrifying darkness. My ears fill with the sound of applause and jeers. I remain on my knees, looking only at the darkness.

"Lets take her to the gentleman's lounge." Giles says.

There is a roar of appreciation as the whip that was used for my punishment is wrapped tightly around my wrists. Hands slip under my arms, lifting me up on to my feet. My wrists are pulled forward, and I follow blindly, as unknown hands touch me and spank me as I pass, stumbling in my blindness. A hand wraps around my hair keeping me upright.

Suddenly there is silence; I hear a heavy door closing and my heartbeat ringing in my ears. The whip is removed from my wrists, quickly replaced with cold metal cuffs. My arms are dragged high above my head, until I am stood barely on the tips of my toes. There is a quick jerk and the clink of metal against metal. I am left suspended, my arms stretched, my shoulders already beginning to ache.

Masculine fingers fumble with the last remaining buttons of my blouse, then it is simply torn off me, making me shake, and putting more weight upon my over stretched arms. I quietly whimper as this invisible man yanks down my skirt, roughly lifts my feet and removes the skirt completely. I cease to struggle, resigning myself to whatever my Master has in store for me. I sense that I am now alone; the darkness and emptiness press down on me. I seem to hang there for an eternity as my arms grow numb and my legs shake with the effort of standing only on the balls of my feet.

Suddenly, the room is filled with hushed whispers. My ears try to pick up what they are talking about; they seem to be waiting for someone or something. I hear the creak of the old oak doors slowly opening, and a low haunting chant begins. A monotonous beating of a stick against the marble floor resonates through my body. The low chant builds in volume, growing more intense, and the hypnotic rhythm of men's voices and the constant wood against marble sound fills the room, nearly overwhelming me. There is a loud final beat from the stick and silence falls once more.

From the silent room, my Master's voice emanates, so warm and deep, sending shivers down my spine. "Hail, Gentlemen. Welcome to this special evening."

There is a round of applause and cheers, until the room falls silent again, and my Master speaks once more:

"We have our sacrifice to lust!" he pronounces, as my stomach tightens with fear and anticipation.

The low rhythm begins again; the beat hard and sharp. The hypnotic tones draw closer to me, and I begin to struggle against the cuffs as fear overwhelms my anticipation. My breathing quickens as I pull against my tired muscles, trying to free the cuffs from whatever is holding them up. There is no escape for me. The chant surrounds me; I feel the breath of many upon my body, my head falls back and a moan escapes my dry lips. I wish unconsciousness will take me; free me from all the senses that have heightened since I was plunged into darkness.

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What does the darkness hold for Sally? to be continued...