The two women before me didn't lick when they were told to. They're screaming their heads off now while they're being whipped.
Not me.
I lick.
My husband and I had just gotten off our flight into the Bahamas. We were going to vacation at a fetish-BDSM themed resort to spice up our marriage. The last thing I remember was leaving the airport in the shuttle.
Next thing I know, I wake up from a dreamless sleep into pitch blackness. I'm naked, on my knees, bent over so that my breasts rest on the floor. My wrists are tightly bound behind me. My arms just above the elbows are restrained as well. My thumbs are locked together. A small chain between my ankles restricts them. My head and face are totally sealed in a leather hood, with only nose-holes for breathing. A short chain attached to my neck keeps me tethered to a bolt-hole on the floor. The only other thing I know is that we're on a ship. I can feel the lurch of being on water.
I'm third in a line of women here. I wonder how many of us there are? Only three? Maybe more? Are we all trussed up identically? A woman with boots on warned us not to scream when our dildo gags were removed from our mouths. We were to be silent, and follow commands, or we'd be punished. The first two women screamed. Who can blame them, right? That's certainly my first instinct. But they're really screaming now. Whip, scream, whip, scream, whip, scream...
So I suppress the urge to scream when my dildo gag is removed. My head is raised as far as the chain allows it. And when I hear the word lick, I start licking. Turns out there's a boot below my face. Leather, from the taste of it. So I've just been licking it. The alternative sounds much worse.
"That's enough."
My head is yanked up off her boot. The chain on my neck goes taut. The dildo gag is shoved back in my mouth, and fastened around my head.
"You get to move on to your training. Don't worry, there will be pain. But..."
Whip! Scream!
"It won't be anything like that."