The Test Run

He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth as he scrutinized me, and I took the opportunity to drink him in. Tall, with onyx black hair and sharp brown eyes that were, at the moment, devoid of any emotion except concentration. No shirt was covering his broad chest, so I was able to see the muscles ripple clearly beneath his skin and the faint smattering of chest hair. It was a dangerously powerful body—deliciously powerful—and though I was able to admit that his face was not as attractive as the ones that I had fallen for in the past, I knew that any woman would be insane not to kneel before him. He was the only person I'd met that was strong enough both mentally and physically to dominate me, the only one that really knew how.

I wanted him to be my Sir. This is why we're here today; he wanted a test run of sorts.

The dark wood floor is cool against my knees and toes. I'm sitting in my submissive position—the one he told me he prefers his subs to use. Kneeling, hands gripping each other at the back of my head, chin up, eyes down, and thighs spread. I'm naked, per his command.

"Farther apart," he orders finally, snapping the inside of my thigh with the leather riding crop he has in his grasp. A delicious ripple of sensation crawls through my body at the sting of the leather, and I immediately shuffle my thighs as wide as they'll go.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and I can hear the approval in his voice. I flush with pleasure, suppressing a smile. "You may look at me now."

Hesitantly, unsure if he means it, I trail my eyes up his form, from his naked feet, over his faded jeans, and up his bare torso until I reach his face. His expression is impassive as he watches me drink him in, his eyes dark and distant but radiating his effortless control. There's no trace of the affection he feels for me in them.

"Up," he commands briskly. "Keep your hands behind your head, feet apart. Close your eyes and keep them closed." The last three words come out as an emphatic growl, and the muscles in my lower abdomen clench. I strangle a moan that tries to build in my throat as I follow his orders to the t. It just feels so damn good to do exactly what he demands.

I hear his soft footsteps as he moves slowly to stand behind me, and I feel like prey being stalked. A sliver of fear makes its way up my spine, and I have to battle the urge to open my eyes. You must obey, I tell myself firmly.

He stops just behind me, and I feel heat radiate from his proximity. My breathing goes shallow, anticipation clenching in my gut and pooling slowly between my thighs. All I can hear is my breath scraping through my lungs, and I strain desperately to hear something, any sign of what he's doing. My skin tingles, waiting for his touch. I want so badly for him to touch me.

Without warning, I feel his fingertip lightly between my shoulder blades, and my breath catches in my throat. The feeling is amplified by what seems like months of waiting for this and by the lack of visual stimulation. As he slowly runs his finger down my spine, I remind myself to breathe, trying to keep my legs from trembling as I involuntarily get wetter.

His finger reaches my lower back, and I feel his hand flex around my right hip, squeezing gently. I can't help myself; I moan softly in my throat.

"Quiet," he reprimands me, but there's a warm note in his voice. "I'd spank you for that if I didn't think you would cum." His voice wraps around my brain, his confidence in his power and the stimulating threat almost making me moan again, but I stop myself.

His hand slides to my back and down to stroke my ass. My heart leaps into my throat and fire smolders in the base of my abdomen. "I quite like this," he says softly, his words dark with desire. I wonder for a moment if he's referring to my ass or the situation we're in, but he doesn't give me the chance to think on it long. There's the loud sound of skin hitting skin, and after a second I feel the sting across my ass from his hand, and my legs start to tremble. I feel my anticipation dripping out of me as his hand gently caresses the place where he hit me, and a very quiet moan comes out of my throat.

His hand disappears from me and I feel him step back slightly. "Hands by your sides."

I lower my hands instantly, letting my arms hang loosely. My eyelids flutter in protest to being closed for so long. I try to ignore it.

Once again, I'm pulled out of my thoughts by his touch. With a quick jerk, he pulls me back against him by my hips, and I inhale sharply. One arm crosses my belly and holds me against him, and his free hand closes around my right wrist and pulls it behind me. He presses my palm against his erection through his jeans, making me draw in a sharp breath, and the order to keep my eyes closed no longer matters. They're rolling back in my head.

I wrap my fingers around the bulge as best as I can through the material, sizing him up. Thick, really thick. The warmth pulsing into my palm only serves to drive me crazier. A moan too soft for him to hear comes out like a breath of desire.

"You feel how bad I want you?" His voice is very quiet, and right by my ear. My brain is in a fog of lust and doesn't register the question. He covers my hand with his and presses it more firmly against him as he repeats the question, his voice now an impatient growl. "Do you feel how bad I want you?"

"Yes, sir," I gasp, my knees quaking.

"Good girl," he says, his voice rough and revealing how turned on he is. Oh, Sir, I know the feeling.

He removes my hand from him and grabs me by the shoulders, spinning me to face him. I force myself to keep my eyes closed.

"Look at me," he orders, still holding me by the shoulders, and I open my eyes to find him watching me, his dark eyes bright with ideas unfolding in his mind. Very softly, his thumb strokes my burning cheek, and then he says calmly, "This is working out quite well so far, I think. I'll go relatively easy on you tonight. We'll ease you into it, okay?"

"Yes, sir," I whisper, my eyes wide with eagerness and wonder. I've never done this before, and I think it amuses him.

"Now then," he murmurs, his hand casually sliding up my throat as his thumb strokes my temple. "What shall I do with you?" A grin plays around the sides of his mouth.

And then, abruptly, his hand slides into the hair at the nape of my neck, his fingers curl, and he pulls. Hard.

I'm unprepared for the sensation that rips through my body as my blood catches on fire. My head tips back and I let loose with a loud moan as my torso arches so my breasts are pressed against his chest. My knees give out so he's holding me up by my hair. My eyes have rolled back into my head, my nails are digging into his arm, and I can't keep another moan from escaping as, amazingly, he pulls harder and presses me more firmly against his body. My breasts heave against his chest under my labored breathing, the pleasure coursing through my veins and obliterating any form of thought.

"Open your eyes," he says softly, and I moan quietly, trying to tell him that my eyelids are too heavy with lust to possibly open them. "Come on," he coaxes, his voice gently pulling at me. It registers somewhere in the very back of my mind that he's speaking to me as softly and warmly as one would speak to a shy animal.

Somehow, I force my eyes open halfway and find myself staring into his face, which is mere inches away. "There you go," he praises me warmly. His eyes are searching mine, bright with lust, intelligence, and deep amusement. He loosens his grip on my hair briefly, then carefully applies pressure again, his eyes still on my face as I moan again and my eyelids close.

"That's interesting," he says softly, his voice rough, as he lets go of my hair. He sounds amused at me, but I'm too stunned by the sensation still tingling through my body to be irritated by it.

My hands fall back to my sides, my breathing as shaky as my legs. Andrew steps back and his gaze rakes over my body. His eyes fasten below my waist, and he tilts his head as though intrigued.

"Stay still," he murmurs, and then he takes a measured step forward and trails a finger up the inside of my left thigh. About halfway up, I feel him drag it through moisture that had dripped down my leg. Unsure of how he'll react, I hold my breath and my muscles tense.

He says nothing as he pulls his finger away, but when he looks up at me, his eyes are dark and hooded. "Open your mouth," he commands after a moment, and when I obey, he presses his damp fingertip on my tongue. "Suck," he orders softly, "and look me in the eyes as you do."

Obediently, I close my lips around his finger and draw on it hard, watching his gaze ignite and darken as I run my tongue around his finger, tasting myself. Boldly, I push my mouth down to his knuckles, sucking on the whole digit. Satisfaction courses through me as he inhales sharply and his eyes close.

"Enough," he growls, and I stop, somewhat reluctantly. He pulls his finger from my mouth and gazes at me with a hard face, judging me, speculating. I automatically look down at the floor, breaking eye contact. "Stay. Continue looking at the floor," he says after a moment, and I keep my eyes trained on the floor as he retreats, listening to his steps as he moves off to my left, out of my peripheral vision. There's a soft jingle of metal—keys?—and then the soft whoosh of a door being opened. My mind goes instantly to the small cabinet on that side of the room, and my curiosity peaks as I hear again a jangling of metal, lighter and softer this time. Then the whoosh of a door, and the keys again, and then his footsteps are padding quietly closer to me until I'm staring at his naked toes in front of me.

"Look up," he orders, and when I do as I'm told, I'm greeted by contemplative and soft brown eyes. He holds up a silver chain to my range of vision, and I look at it with interest and mild confusion. It's somewhat dark in certain places on the links, almost as though it was a decoration, and I find that I like the way it looks. The links aren't so fine that they'd break easily, but they are in no way large or tough. It could maybe withstand a bit of firm tugging; I decide it is indeed for decoration.

I meet Andrew's gaze again, letting a little of my confusion slip into my eyes, and he laughs quietly. The sound sends a shiver down my spine; even his laughter conveys his power. Wordlessly and with a smile still playing around his lips, he shows me that one end has a small clasp just big enough to connect it to another link on the chain.

Oh.

"I'm going to put this on you," he says simply, and without further preamble, he slips the chain behind my neck as he looks into my eyes. Quickly, he clips the end to a link close to my throat, leaving about a foot and a half of chain loose, the end of it held in his hand.

The effect on me is instant and breathtaking. Something in me stills and quiets, and my body relaxes, the nerves and tension falling away as my breathing deepens. Another part of me seems to click into place. This feels suddenly right, like I belong at this end of this makeshift leash. This is an unequivocal sign that I'm his, and right then, I want nothing more than to please him in any way I can.

I'm still looking into his eyes, aware that he's been watching me intently for the few seconds I've been registering all this in my brain. His eyes soften perceptibly before I look down, and I kneel into his slave position, a move that feels inexplicably important to me because of all it symbolizes, all it shows.

"Good little slut," he murmurs softly, his voice washing over me like a soothing caress while his word choice ignites my veins. He tugs my leash gently, and I stand as smoothly and elegantly as I can.

...Only to be flung face down on the couch pushed against the wall to my right. I revel in the roughness, whimpering softly. There's brief pressure from my leash as Sir steps away and reaches for a cane suspended in a rack on the wall, with an assortment of crops, floggers, and carefully coiled rope.

"I'm going to make you cum with this, do you understand, slut?" His voice is hard and cold again, no trace of tenderness or affection in his tone or gaze.

"Yes, Sir," I say softly, keeping my eyes locked to the floor.

"Good." He replaces the cane and takes the end of my leash in both hands and presses a length of it against my lips, and I obediently part them, taking the chain in my mouth and tasting the bitterness of metal. "Hold this. You let go, and we're done. Understood?"

My eyes widen with terror at the threat and I nod fervently, clamping my teeth down on the metal.

"Good," he says again, and then steps closer to the rack of assorted items on the wall and takes a coil of thin nylon rope from a peg. "Hands behind your back, gripping your arms," he commands, and I obey without hesitation, my fingers wrapped firmly around my arms. He quickly binds the rope around them and forces his pinkie between the rope and my skin to ensure it isn't too tight.

The bondage strains the muscles in my arms, but it's a pleasant, tight feeling.

I'm distracted from my thoughts as Sir takes the cane again and brings it down in an arc toward my ass. I tense and grow even wetter as it makes contact with my skin—but the touch is light compared to what I expected. A faint sting ripples over my skin a few seconds later, delicious but not nearly fulfilling. I notice that it's more intense on the ass cheek Sir spanked earlier.

As the sting fades, I wriggle slightly against my bonds, bravely pushing my hips up appreciatively, asking for more.

"You like that, slut?" he growls, and he brings the cane down again, harder. I moan between my clenched teeth as the sting spreads across my ass, tingling more intensely.

"Yes, Sir," I gasp past the chain held between my teeth, and I'm rewarded with a stronger blow from the cane, my skin now sensitive and smarting. I moan deeply, my eyes rolling back in my head as I pull against my rope and offer my ass up again. I'm so wet I can feel it dripping out of me.

Sir's fingers stroke my ass gently, carefully massaging the stinging flesh. It's a new sensation, intense, and I moan again as my clit throbs, wanting stimulation.

"You know what we do when people do nice things for us, you whore? We thank them." He moves his hand to my lower back, holding me down as the cane makes sweet contact with my skin again. It's really starting to hurt now, better than I could have imagined.

"Thank you, Sir," I choke, the sound muffled by the chain.

"Louder!" he orders, his palm pushing into my back as he swats my ass with the cane again.

"Thank you, Sir!" I scream, the leash tucked under my tongue as my back arches and tears sting my eyes. My ass is all sensation, and my arms as well, with the rope rubbing against them. My nipples are hard against the leather, now warmed by my body, and I'm panting as he brings the cane down another time, yelling, "Again!"

"Thank you Sir!" I yell, my voice cracking from my tears and its pitch, my words distorted by the leash I'm clamping between my teeth. My ass feels like it's on fire, and it's so sweet, so erotic to be caned by my Sir, to be subjected to this agony for his pleasure... And with that thought ringing through my head, my orgasm starts to build as Sir once again kneads my tender skin, eliciting a throaty moan from me.

"Yes," he growls, his voice rough and raw. "I want to hear how much a filthy slut like you enjoys this." The cane comes down again, and I automatically thank him, my voice straining as hard as my body is straining, his words seeming to directly stroke my clit as my ass tingles and burns and hurts, his palm pressing into me.

The degradation, his control, the sensation of being hit, the act itself...it's too much, my body is overloaded. I'm panting, my body bucking as I wait for the next blow, my orgasm still—somehow—building in my thighs and lower abdomen.

"I'm going to hit you harder, this time, bitch, and I expect you to cum," he snarls, and all I can manage in response is a frantic moan, my body writhing in anticipation, and I don't have to wait for long.

As the cane connects with my ass, my body arches, and then I feel his hand in my hair, pulling hard, and my body explodes, tearing apart at the seams as I ignite, a scream tearing from my throat, barely coherent as I still clamp down on my leash, but I think Sir understands because he strokes my hair as my body stills and murmurs, "You're welcome, slut."

I feel his fingers undoing the knots in the ropes on my arms, and as he passes me to hang it up, he reaches down and gently pulls my leash out of my mouth. I stare blankly at the wall, exhausted and calm, feeling sated. My mind is still, and I treasure the feel of the leash around my throat.

When Sir stands in front of me again, he gently pulls on my leash, asking me to sit up. I do, wincing at my tender ass, and as he sits, he offers me a bottle of water that I accept thankfully. For a few seconds, we sit and drink quietly, but he's the first one to break the silence.

"Would you like me to hold you?" His voice is soft and warm, no longer fully dominating, and I peer up at him.

"Whatever you would like, Sir."

He studies me and then smiles a little. "You don't have to call me sir anymore. The scene is over."

"May I?" I whisper, and look down, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze.

"Yes," he murmurs, after a moment. "Now get over here. I'd like to feel you against me."

Muscles clench deep in my belly as I slide closer to him, still completely naked. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes, smoothing his thumb over my skin. The skin on skin contact soothes me, calms me. I'm angled on my hip so my ass isn't subjected to too much pressure.

"You did really well," he praises me, and when I look up at him, he's grinning happily. I allow an uncertain smile to tug at my lips.

"Really?"

"Yes. You didn't let go of the leash. Speaking of leash..." His voice trails off and he eyes me curiously, his fingers playing with the loose end of the small chain. "You want me to take this off?"

I hesitate, unsure. I like the peace it gives me, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to relinquish it yet. I know I have to be honest with him, that open communication is required for this to work, so I sigh softly and blush as I start to speak. "If you don't want me to call you sir anymore, then yes, you should probably take this off..." I glance up at him, and my cheeks heat up further at the burning intensity of his bemused gaze. My voice is quieter as I continue, "But I like wearing it. It makes me feel that I'm yours, and when you put it on me.... I felt better. I felt right." By the last sentence, I'm whispering. I've never voiced anything like this out loud before.

"Hmm," he says gently, and I look up at him through my lashes. "Submissive indeed." His voice is soft, and he reaches up and slowly tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and he grins. "I'm satisfied with the test run, slut. I think this will work out very well."

And with that, he pulls me to him by my leash, and he presses his lips hungrily to mine.