WARNING: There are graphic portrayals of homosexual activities within this story. It is a Femdom story of a reluctant model that plays rough sexual games. It is written in the first person format from the submissives point of view.
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Chapter One -- Meeting
I bought a large building. It was one of those business things with high ceilings and large windows that had been converted to apartments.
It had an odd list of residents. Some lived there and at least three had businesses there.
A photographer had a studio there. She was very successful. Even I had heard of her and seen some of her work. It wasn't my field but I appreciated her work, none the less.
Two stories below her was a specialty shop that made all kinds of leather goods. It was run by a couple of guys. They were obviously gay. But I didn't care as long as they paid their rent on time and made no trouble.
Between the two shops was an artist's place. He was always on time with his rent too.
Just after I bought the place, his twelve monthly rent payment cheques ran out. I already had a written commitment from him about staying on. I dropped by to pick up twelve more cheques.
His model opened the door to my enquiring knock. She was a short woman with shoulder length auburn hair. She was dressed as a dominatrix, complete with corset, tall black boots, severe make-up and a cruel expression.
"You're late! Get your ass in...Now!" She snarled.
"I'm afraid you have mistaken me for someone else." I said, with just a hint of a cool smile.
She had the grace to blush.
"I'm Mitch Franks...The new landlord." I confirmed.
Just then, the artist himself came around a partition that separated the rest of the apartment from the front door. He was a tall man and broad shouldered. Long grey hair made him look older than the fifty some years I estimated him to be.
"Come, Come, Mr. Johnson...We are going to lose the light..." He began.
The model interrupted before I could say anything, "Bill, it's not Mr. Johnson. It's the landlord."
Bill Smyth, the artist chuffed and said, "Oh, sorry about that. Please come in and I shall get your cheques...Oh, and pleased to meet you." He turned and walked away after shaking my hand.
I walked around the partition and into some sort of sexy dungeon.
I was amazed and it must have shown. All throughout the apartment, the sun from the east facing windows illuminated a wide variety of implements only found in a dungeon.
Some I recognized, like a rack and some I didn't, like the odd looking giant wheel. The cuffs made it apparent that it definitely belonged here.
"I know it must look strange but Bill is a specialty artist who only does paintings on a commission basis. They all have a similar theme, a man being dominated." She said.
I nodded and realized that I had been holding my breath. I found I was a little excited by the naughtiness of it all. Worse that that, I was becoming aroused...
Normally, I keep my submissive side a tightly guarded secret. I had learned that it wasn't something that many others tolerated.
Just then the phone rang. I could hear Bill answer it. After a short silence, he slammed down the phone and marched back in.
"I'm afraid that was Mr. Johnson, my dear." He said to the woman, "He is unable to make it today; something about being in a car accident."
Bill the artist turned to me, handed me twelve cheques made out correctly and said, "There you go and I think you will find these suffice."
I nodded and asked, "So what will you do now?"
Bill looked at me carefully and answered, "What, you mean now that I am without a model?"
I nodded and he looked at me carefully before responding.
"Either I will have to cancel the painting today or..." He left the rest unsaid.
"Or I could stand in for him." I finished.
Chapter Two -- Columns
Bill looked at my broad shoulders, flat stomach and bulky arms before he spoke.
"You'd have to sign a waiver and you do understand that this is a BONDAGE and DISCIPLINE painting?" He asked with some severity.
I nodded and said, "I do understand and we'd have to agree to a safe word and some basic rules...By the way, how much does it pay?"
Bill nodded and said, "I'd keep your body but I'd make it a different face in my painting. Other that that, I think we can agree."
He told me the price and I nodded.
Quickly then, he brought out a waiver and I stripped down. I told him my safe word and he nodded.
The woman identified herself as Dawn Ferguson. She bound me tightly between two columns. There was a hood hanging from a chain. She put it on and inserted an inflatable gag.
I could feel my sexual arousal becoming greater with each application of leather, rope and steel.
In the end I was tied tightly, standing spread-eagled on tip toe.
I was also hooded except for my eyes. I was gagged with an inflatable gag; she was careful to inflate it and lock it in the full position.
I found my dick was iron hard. The room was warm from the sun but not overly so. I felt very comfortable and that added to my sexual excitement.
I could see Bill behind his easel, facing me and busy painting.
At first I was resolved to remain still and show neither pain nor fear.
Bill finally looked up at the model and said, "Dawn, would you be a dear and apply the whip?"
I gasped but realized that he wanted realism in his paintings.
Dawn took down a single tail whip, showed it to me but I merely looked defiant. She walked behind me to take up her position.
I heard the whisper of leather through the air. I felt the burning kiss as the whip landed on my nude and helplessly bound body. I did my best to stifle my cry of pain.
Dawn waited for a couple of minutes before winding up and whipping me again.
Once more, I heard the whip whispering before it landed. I felt its burning kiss and I choked back a cry of pain.
Bill painted with a fierce intensity.
Dawn began to take less and less time as she applied the lash. It became harder and harder not to cry out.
Two blows became twenty two in short order.
Dawn would whip me and I'd gurgle in pain and shock.
Bill looked up every once in a while then he'd look back to his easel.
Now Dawn hadn't been whipping me real hard but after twenty two strokes, I'd had enough. I tried to let her know to stop. She didn't seem to be listening.
I looked at Bill and when he met my desperate gaze, he smiled.
I gasped as the lash landed and gurgled at him. He put down his brush and watched as Dawn applied the cruel whip several more times to my writhing pain filled body.
