tagBDSMLauren

Lauren

byangelina©

Lauren walked into the hotel room. It was utterly dark. She could not see anything. It seemed to her that she was in a room, filled with no breathing, until a tall box, outlined in a faint yellow light, appeared to her. She stood quietly by the door. Waiting. She heard his voice, filled with male husk: "Lauren. Do not speak." He paused for emphasis, and her stomach churned in knots. "There is a candle in the bathroom. Go and get it and return."

She immediately walked, black high-heeled saunter, toward the tall, yellow outline of what must be a door. She reached out blindly for the doorknob, found and turned it. Pulling slowly outward, she caused a wave of warm amber light to wash over her body and out into the room.

Jesus.....On the black marble counter was a single pillar candle, flickering its snake's tongue of fire to and fro lazily, firmly, in partnership with itself in the mirror, and causing the whole room to vibrate with thick, golden light. Lauren could not see her reflection, but knew that to anyone looking in, it must look as though her tall, tan form had just been enveloped in a room full of honey.

On the sink stood 4 heavy crystal vases, filled to overflowing with a cacophony of screaming red tulips, the flickering candle's light causing them to MOVE -- twisted and drooping and proud on their long green stems -- excited by their own smudged and potent reflection in the mirror, looking in the dim glow like a thousand red secret-agent kisses -- a Russian, writing a farewell love-note to her American lover in the only way she knows how....

My God. She stood, frozen, awed, and wondered what it looked like from behind as the honeyed light slowly oozed past her, full of magic. She wanted to stay -- to bathe in the richly red-flecked riot that she had suddenly found herself in.

But Lauren knew better than to hesitate, especially for her own pleasure, and thinking of her Master, she turned to go back to her position by the hotel room door. Her retinas, now faced with the darkness again, pushed before her in protest the bright, chiaroscuro after-image of Nietszche-narcississm -- that image of one thousand identical red tulips shouting, "mirror, mirror, on the wall." And, she was blind again. Damn. She had forgotten the candle.

She heard her Master clear his throat in mock sternness and a harsh whisper, "The candle, slave. Get the candle and return to your position by the door as I told you. Can you not obey a simple order?"

She did not answer but was immediately and blackly disappointed that she had displeased him, even though she could also tell by his voice that he was secretly pleased, too. But then again, the pleasure in his voice could have been from any number of things he had seen or thought while watching her the past few minutes. He was an intelligent and complex man and Lauren had eventually learned to stop trying to second-guess him. He was not like the men she so easily toyed with in her professional life. Each morning, she got up and with trousers snapped, made big noise in the man's world with the sheer strength of her intellect. She was used to a "kneeling mind" in a man, for generally they had no other choice once time was spent with her. It drove many away, ashamed or afraid, or just too daunted to remain. But Marc was different.

Actually, his full name was "Marcus Moynihan" as he had briskly stated as he had leaned down upon her almost imperceptibly during their first meeting. Lauren smiled in the darkness now as she remembered that for days afterwards all she could think of was the deep caramel color of his eyes.

Perhaps she would be punished for her blunder with the candle. Perhaps not. She would not know until it happened or it did not.

She turned on her heel, walked back into the holy light and lifted the candle, careful not to spill the hot wax, pooling like rich vanilla lava around the thick, black stump of wick. Cupping her hand in front of the flame, she walked to her place by the hotel door, and leaned slowly against the door jamb, very aware of the fact that he could see her every move.

"Put the candle on the floor in front of you. Take off your coat and lay it on the bed and return," he said. She complied, laid the warm sheath of buttery leather on the end of the bed and returned to her position. She was still unable to see the man behind the commands.

"Lean against the wall and hike up your skirt."

Lauren reached down and started to pinch the long, rich black silk skirt, accordion style, with both her hands, gathering the material so that it made a slow climb up her leg like a velvet theatre curtain, until it reached to just above her shaved cunt. The candle's light undulated beneath her like little escaping snakes coming up from between her legs... painting her in golden and impermanent serpents: tongues forked and full of fleeting licks.

"Stop. Now, without letting go, slide down the wall for me, very slowly."

She complied, inching her way down, bending deep at the knees and pivoting on her heels so that her cunt was spread as far as possible in that position. Pushing back hard against the wall for some relief on her back, she was glad now she had spent those long, boring hours in the gym each week. Even though she was weakest there -- alone, while working out. At the gym, her frustrations about her relationship with Marc often turned to anger at herself for allowing herself to continue in such a strange relationship as theirs had become. WHY did she allow it to continue---week after week?! Shit. She had no control over the relationship at all. And, in truth, it frustrated her to no end when she was alone long enough to brood about it.

She did not know where Marc lived or what he did for a living or even his home phone number. He had given her a pager number and instructed her only to use it for emergencies. On their first date, she had slipped quickly into her "reporter" personality, firing off at him one probing question after another. He answered maybe one in every three, forcing her to slow down.

Finally, on their third and last "date", he had told her he was the CEO of a large multi-national pharmaceutical company, which kept him travelling much of the time. He had then leaned toward her and very deliberately took control of the conversation by asking her, with a raised brow, if that was a problem? She remembered mumbling "no" in a soft and quiet voice that was NOT her own.

"Good," he had said, "you will be required to meet me weekly hereafter and will receive instructions for doing so each Monday evening."

That particular date marked only their 4th time to ever see each other but something in Lauren clicked over in her --- her belly flipped and dove, sending waves of wet pleasure down, down and in, drenching her cunt. "Hell," she'd thought then. "This is screwed up. Who the hell does he think he is anyway?" She had flashed her electric blue eyes at him once, but inside, she knew she was hooked.

He must have seen the silent flare up of her ego in her eyes because he smiled then, reached across the table, encircled her wrist with his strong fingers like a cuff and squeezed, whispering, "Good girl." And that, THAT PRECISE MOMENT, was when "it" had "started" and Lauren knew without a doubt, that she was beyond saving. There was no going back, the road had forked and she had chosen and now she was not her own anymore.

Her Master's voice brought her back to the present. "Now. Sit down on your ass and spread your legs wide for me."

She could feel herself becoming wet as she squatted to comply, embarrassed and red-faced,. She landed too sharply on her ass and almost lost the grip on her black silk skirt.

"I said, "Spread your legs, bitch."

Too quickly, she spread her legs, snagging her left heel on the carpet, dropping her left skirt hem in an effort to keep herself from tipping over.

"You will pay for that," He said harshly.

Immediately, she hiked the hem back up for Him. Slowly, the handle of a long black whip extended from the other side of the candle and pushed the candle closer to her, between her legs, and she was bathed in its glow, her pink fingernails echoing its flame ten tiny times.

"Pull your skirt all the way up, hold it with your left hand and play with your clit with your right. Do it now."

She began to panic inside. She could not go through with this, she was too damn nervous. She made a move to get up.

"SIT DOWN," His voice BOOMED from somewhere to her far left front. She slumped back down immediately.

"Now, you can do this your way, or you can do it mine-- but either way, you WILL DO IT. Is that clear?"

She could hear the anger begin to edge into His voice and so she answered, meekly, "Yes, Sir," keeping her head down out of reflex.

"Good. We will begin again. Now, reach down with your right hand and masturbate for me, bitch."

Lauren reached down, tentatively, flushed now with embarrassment, and touched her clit. *Whoosh* The sound of the whip cut through the air and a mean lash landed on her right thigh seemingly from nowhere and reflexively she gave a shout of PAIN.

"I said, Masturbate for me, bitch, like the whore that you are, like MY whore, not like some guilt-stricken nun." He sighed deeply for emphasis. "Must we always begin this way?" *whoosh* Another invisible lash screamed down and landed on her left thigh. "Why do you continute to insist on trying to be in charge?"

She was silent as snow now as she looked meekly down, watching the two impudent, red streaks interrupt the tan on her thighs and race to turn to raised welts, filled with heat now and beating in time with her quickened heartbeat. She knew now her Master was truly angry, for he rarely, rarely marked her body. Then, right then, there was the turn of that infernal key within her, the clicking over inside her, bright-bright even as she tryed to fight it...she could not. She was powerless in the force of its wakening within her. The submissive in her suddenly loosened everything within and she felt the blood flow to her nipples and cunt. She was in heat and she was HIS... At that moment. The moment of turning. She wondered if he could see. She wondered if he knew.

"Now. Do it." He whispered.

Filled with shame, this time she began in earnest, feeling a great sexual pull in her groin, pushing her clit back and forth, around and around, languidly, making it feel good; her breathing quickened and

suddenly He was there, looking down from above, then squatting in front of her. She could not see His face. He reached out with his right hand and inserted two fingers into her cunt; their hands touched now, hers bumping into his as she moved it against her clit. He kept His fingers deep in her, but very still.

"Jesus, you little bitch, you are so wet. Play with your pussy for me, Lauren, do it."

She increased her tempo, nervous but so damned turned on, breath coming fast now....

His quiet, still, implacable fingers were buried deep inside her hot wetness.

"Lauren," He said, "I am now going to count to 10. You will cum for me by the time I have finished my count. For every second it may take you AFTER I reach a count of 10, you will be spanked. Do I make myself clear? You may answer me."

"Yes, Sir," she gasped.

"Good," He said.

Suddenly she felt him moving, his fingers leaving her warm, moist cunt.

"Pick up the candle and move away from the wall to the middle of the room," He said. "Kneel for me with your legs spread."

Lauren complied.

"Now, begin again, little one. Touch yourself for me."

As Lauren reached down to comply, she heard him say "One."

"Two. Pump it, slut," He said.

She began to moan; this was too much, she was so turned on but too nervous to cum. He must know this! If only she could see his face -- but he stayed just out of reach of the small circle of light that the floored candle now threw. It was as if the light, no matter how she willed it, could not escape the heavy gravity of her own submissive inner core and so when she dared to peek up she was rewarded only with a short piece of his arm, surrounded in tbe smooth camel's hair cloth of his sport coat and even that ended finally in darkness.

"Three. Concentrate, Lauren," He purred.

"Four. Spread your fucking LEGS WIDER, BITCH!"

She struggled to push her thighs further apart.

"Five." He inserted his fingers back into her, reaching from behind her. "You little whore, why are you so wet? Huh?"

She could feel her wetness about to spill out of her cunt as she frigged her clit faster and harder for Him, feeling herself begin the ascent to her orgasm. God, WHY won't He move His fingers inside of me!!? WHY is He keeping them so STILL! She wanted to feel him fingering her as she played with herself for Him.

"Six," He said.

As he said that word, she saw his other hand come into view and felt his index finger dip into her cunt, quickly becoming wet and glistening in the firelight as He moved it in and out. She wanted to PUSH against that finger; it felt so damn GOOD, but He quickly pulled it out and then slowly forced it deep into her ass. Oh God, she could hardly breathe, she ached to cum but she could not, her mind would not shut down for her.

"Seven. Cum, whore, do it. Eight." His index finger began to move in her ass, slowly at first then more determined and faster, adopting the rhythm of her own fingers on her clit.

"Nine. God, you bitch, you are so wet for Me, aren't you?"

She begin to whimper. He was driving her over the edge, she was playing with her clit so hard now her cunt made wet noises around the still, quiet fingers of his right hand has the index finger of his left fucked her ass.

"Ten. Mmmmmm, I am going to enjoy spanking your ass, Lauren."

"Eleven."

His finger was now fucking her ass hard, his whole hand smacking up against her posterior as he slammed his finger in and out.

"Twelve. Fucking whore, cum for me, NOW!"

She began to grunt rhythmically, her orgasm so close.

"Thirteen." "Ahhh, good girl, my pet... come on, whore, give it to Your Master. Fourteen."

His left hand slammed wetly against her asshole as she began to scream his name, fast, "Master, Master, Master, YES! Make me cum, make me cum. Yes, Master..."

"Fifteen. Come on bitch, scream for me. Sixteen. Seventeen."

She was right on the edge, so close, god dammit! WHY couldn't she close her mind down and cum for Him?

"Eighteen. Do it bitch, let yourself, go. DO IT! NOW, BITCH! CUM!"

"Nineteen."

She began to grunt in earnest now, rhythmically; his finger pumping her ass finally drove her over the edge and she screamed, "Uhn, Uhn, Uhn, FUCK ME, Master! Uhnn. Fuck me! Fuck Your cunt! Yes, Yes, Yes," she screamed over and over as her cunt and ass spasmed around His fingers and He leaned in close, covering her mouth in His so that she was forced to breathe in great giant gouts through her nose as He kissed her.

He stayed like this til her breathing evened out, then leaned back, removing his hands from inside her, and walked to the bed and sat on the edge. She could see His rigid cock straining at the seams of the buttoned fly of his faded jeans. She was drained.


"Stand up and remove your skirt and blouse." On wobbly, weak legs, she unbuttoned her cream silk shirt and let it drop to the floor. She did the same with her skirt so that all she had on was her black lace thigh-highs and black lace bra.

"Down on your knees, Lauren. Now, come here, crawl to me and assume the position."

God, how she hated this and how it thrilled her to follow His commands.

She bent down and got on her hands and knees and crawled to Him, slipping snake-like over His lap til her head was almost touching the floor and her feet dangled from the other side, two inches from the floor.

"Good girl. You pleased me tonite, little one."

He began to stroke her ass in little circles, barely touching her. It felt so damn good she wanted to purr against Him.

"You are such a sweet little beautiful whore for me Lauren when You finally let go, aren't You?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered hoarsely.

"Yeeesssss," He hissed, "that's my good girl. Now, give me Your right hand, Lauren, bring it up to me across your back."

She brought her hand up and he leaned over her, grasping her wrist firmly with his left hand and simultaneously pressing her more firmly into place across His lap, His hard cock cruelly jabbing her midriff.

"In the future, my little whore, you will learn to cum for me on command. You need more work, and I need to leave you a little reminder. Now. Count for me, little one."

*SMACK* His hand came down with so much force it knocked the air out of her and for a moment, she could not speak. *SMACK* came another hard blow.

"The first does not count, little one, because I did not hear you count."

"One," she croaked.

*SMACK*

"Two, Sir." The heat crawled up her spine and she could feel his hand prints indelibly engraved in fire on her ass.

*SMACK*

"Three, Sir."

*SMACK* "Four, Sir," her voice broke with the pain.

*SMACK* "Five, Sir," she shouted. God, the pain was unbearable and she tryed to move her captured hand in the way of his next blow.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, little one. What is this? Shall I have to tie You after all? Just to finish this short spanking? My, how you disappoint me, little one," He sighed.

She was mortified as she stammered, "No, Sir. i am sorry, Sir."

"Please, continue, Sir," and she steeled herself for the next blow.

*SMACK* This blow was harder than all the rest and she shouted, "SIX, SIR!!"

"Are you going to learn to obey Me when I ask you to cum for me on command? Are you?"

"Yes, YES, YES!" she gushed. "Yes, Sir!!"

"Good, pet, then it seems this spanking is just what you needed, right?"

"YES, SIR!"

"Thank You, Sir!"

*SMACK*

"SEVEN," she screamed as the pain began in earnest to flood her prostrate form.

*SMACK*

"EIGHT, SSSsIR!" she struggled out as she felt the tears begin.

*SMACK*

"NINE!! SIR!!" she screamed in a fit of pain, her ass on fire, crying now against Him.

"Ahhhh, very good, my pet, very good. You did well.

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