Shall We Dance

With a few flicks of your wrist you have reduced me to an unthinking primal creature. Your will is all I respond to. You have demonstrated your ownership to all these others even if you won't admit it to yourself. You can make me cry out on so many levels. I am yours to do with what you will. I accept this at the most visceral level, one that is beyond all thought. I have known this for as long as I have known you, but it is only times like these when I can truly feel it.

You must be standing directly behind me, blocking their view of my glowing bottom except when I twist from side to side. You allow me just a moment, time enough to fill my lungs. You follow with two more hard blows and I cry out pitifully, again a moment's respite while I beg for your forgiveness. Your whip flicks out, another pair and I'm reduced to a blubbering sob as I try to regain my breath and remember a moment before this darkness and pain.

And then you stop.

You are next to me, your cool hands roaming across the tender, burning flesh of my bottom. You are whispering in my ear but it takes me a few moments to concentrate, and your precious words are lost. The crowd is a buzzing noise far off in the background, your hand is coolness and heaven and my bottom greedily follows it squirming in delight as your fingers caress the throbbing heat. A finger probes lower and I raise myself toward it pressing back with a wanton hunger. I haven't begun to make sense of your words but your tone is full of desire and need. If we were alone I'm sure you would be inside me by now. The whipping interrupted for a moment to allow you to slake your desires. I whimper my own need but you have already stepped back.

We are here for the others now, not ourselves.

Again knotted leather whistles through the air. It comes from my left this time. My legs stiffen muscles tense and then a gasp of surprise. Agony erupts in my right shoulder as the knotted tips rain down. I whimper and twist as the whip pulls away. Time hangs silent for a moment then the whistle comes again, I am prepared now as pain explodes across my left shoulder. My chest twists downward, breasts sway below. I am gasping as the breath is driven from me. And I hear the damnable whistle of leather again. I brace myself for the pain but the leather bites into my bottom from behind, just above my straining thighs. My legs tug against the ankle cuffs as I bounce upward and lurch forward. You will give me no peace, no chance to prepare. I will dance as you see fit. The crowd seems pleasantly amused, some are clapping at what seems a slow rhythmic pace shouting words of encouragement to you and bellowing out suggestions that are both imaginative and obscene.

For now I can do nothing but feel the pain and react as best as my limited movement allows. You linger a bit now, allowing some time between the flicks of your flogger. It strikes with a harsh anger that marks my flesh without breaking the skin but at this moment I could hardly swear to that. I'm sure I can feel blood dripping from my lacerated back and bottom though it is in fact only my dripping sweat.

Most often the whip manages to fall exactly where I don't expect. If there is a pattern you follow I will never figure it out. I have lost all track of the number of blows. The flesh of my upper back and my shoulders is ablaze. My bottom and upper thighs scream out in hot desperation. I am sure this agony will never end. A particularly vicious blow lands across my buttocks pushing me forward as I cling to the chain that holds me up. Without pause a second then a third blow land across my bottom. Each blow sends me lurching forward, my thighs banging against the cross brace. My screams are a primal plea but I still push my bottom back toward you each time. There's a split second pause then the fourth angry blow and I howl like a wounded beast.

"Forty."

The voice is one of the twins they have never left the stage and have been silently counting while I twisted under the lash. The crowd mutters its disappointment that my torment is ending, but many continue to applaud our performance. I hear the whip clatter to the ground as you drop it and then you are behind me holding me gently, cool hands gingerly caress my breast supporting me raising me from below with your strength while you try not to brush against tender bottom. Slowly you straighten me while four hands swiftly go to work loosening my cuffs from the metal structure. You pull the blindfold from my eyes and I blink in the harsh brightness.

When I am free and standing upright I lean backward pressing my burning skin against you. I sigh feeling the rough scratchy texture of your clothes on my punished flesh. I tilt my head backward my neck arching as my head comes to rests on your shoulder. You tenderly kiss my proffered neck. I can feel your body tremble with your desire. You grip my shoulders and turn me toward the crowd.

About twenty people have gathered in front of the stage, near the stairway. With a little prodding you make me bow to them. I don't want to look, I really wish I could close my eyes and ignore this noisy group but they continue to clap, stamp, and whistle until I'm blushing. My face must be nearly as red as my bottom. The twins move past me clearing the crowd from the stairs. You have released your grip and stand behind me. I don't want to move down into the crowd but there is no choice.

With courage I don't really feel my feet move forward, one step at a time I approach the stairs leading down onto the floor. I glance back and you are there, following a pace behind me. When I turn my head toward the crowd again, it has grown and there seem to be about thirty people crowding the base of the stage arms outstretched trying to reach me. The twins have opened a narrow passage for me and I descend into the waiting gauntlet.

Hands reach for me, there is no stopping it. People are petting, grabbing, and stroking my abused body. I truly do belong to them now. In my helpless nakedness I am now stripped of my last shreds of pride. They need to feel the warmth you have bestowed on my glowing skin. These strangers feel no compunction about my dignity as the grab at my breasts, twist my nipples, and poke fingers at my most intimate openings and slap at my burning flesh.

I silently pray for rescue but you allow this. Coming up from behind me you bend me forward holding my hips in place, your foot pushing my legs apart. You open me to make their exploration easier. My tears flow, not for the shame you are forcing upon me but for my reaction to it.

While my legs may be trembling it is with desire not fear. My swollen lower lips part as moisture weeps from them. My hips twist and jerk spasmodically as they search for new hands willing to caress me. I feel shameless and at the same time I'm full of shame. I have followed your lead, I am what you've created, and I've become your willing slut.

Even the other subs feel entitled to abuse me. I watch a naked young woman crawling to my open legs her tongue licking the length of my upper thigh. I cry out in yearning and despair.

You are in front of me now, taking my right hand. You lead me forward, through the crowd of groping hands toward the safety of the changing room. You are anxious, and swiftly you rush me into the room closing the door sharply on the final few followers. I anxiously fall to my knees before you and struggle to undo your belt you gently push me back and loosen your pants letting them drop and then step free of them. I lean forward, my ravenous lips demanding, but again you restrain me.

I feel hurt and perplexed until I realize you are lowering yourself to the ground, stretching out on your back, your thick shaft throbbing as it waits for me. I joyfully straddle your hips. My hand reaches down between my legs to guide your firm flesh toward my hungry lips. Your cool hands are on my throbbing bottom supporting my weight. I try to sink down on you but your hands are unyielding. I groan in frustration.

You arch your hips pushing upward and I feel you deep inside, slowly you slide out again teasing me. I try to understand but frustration and lust make it difficult to concentrate. Your hands still support my bottom preventing me from sinking down, keeping me from the dance.

At last I think I know what it is you want. I raise my arms my hands joined behind my neck. This pose always shows my breasts to their best advantage. Your smile is one of delight and I am rewarded. Your hands reach up toward my breasts and I slowly sink down. You fill my every need.

And we dance once more.

Copyright © Mad Lews 2005