Escapades Ch. 05

"But you just love displaying your skill on me, don't you?" I added innocently.

"My what?" he said, pausing in his flicking.

"Your skill as a Dom." I replied shyly.

That seemed to spur him to the next level. As another demonstration he used a shorter version of the bullwhip called a signal whip on me. This is a serious whip that can do serious damage, so when he cracked it loudly in the air behind me, I squealed and he said "Shh!" Then he had me stand up and began to flick it at me, catching the skirt between my legs, hinting at a blow to my sex but pulling back from it at the last moment. Finally, he landed three perfect stripes high on my ass cheek. The sensation was like being slashed with a thorn: a white-hot, exquisitely fine line of intense pain. It was a tiny point, but it made a huge impact. I thought vividly of thorns and was fascinated. He asked me how it was and I think I said "incredible" again. He tried to do the other cheek to match, but in the narrow aisle he couldn't get at the other side of my body as well, and admitted as much. In fact, I respected that. He wasn't so arrogant that he would pretend everything went fine when it didn't. He had me turn and lift my skirt so that I could see where he had marked me: a vivid red dot and three even matching stripes on my left, and a more diffuse redness on the right.

Having run through the majority of the whips at hand, he said he would go get one more of his own personal canes to use on me: something he called (I think) a "flexi cane." It was a very thin, flexible sort of crop made of a dark artificial material, maybe a plastic or carbon fibre. He had me sit back on the couch again, wrap my arms around my knees and raise my feet before my face. Peering around my legs, I could also see my sex and ass exposed in this position. But he didn't hit there at first: he hit the soles of my feet instead. The pain was surprisingly intense, pure and suffusing. It was definitely a level above what I'd felt so far. Only then, having given me a taste on my feet, did he spank my ass with the cane, and this time the pain was so intense as to make my toes curl, right on the very edge of my limits. Unlike the varied textures of floggers, the flexi cane was so smooth and he wielded it so quickly that it hardly felt like individual blows. The pain lingered and built, each stroke blending into the next, creating a liquid curtain of inescapable agony across my already-tender flesh. I didn't know how long I could take it. I squirmed and probably whimpered, but I let him finish. I think he was impressed with that. He told me (either then or later, I can't recall) that I was able to take more than he'd expected, and he would love to play with me every week if he could.

He let me lower my skirt, and we conversed a little more about all kinds of things. I told him at one point that I've never played in any kind of kinky club, and in fact had never been with a man. I admitted that I was a virgin and he was the first person to touch me so intimately. He seemed stunned by this revelation and was silent for a long time.

"So no man has ever touched your pussy?" He asked.

"No."

"And you've never held a man's cock or given a blow job?"

"Never."

He looked at me for so long that I felt compelled to say,

"I swear, it's the honest truth."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Thirty-one."

"And you just never felt any urge to fuck?"

"No," I admitted. Then I took the plunge. "So far I've defined my orientation as 'asexual.' I might just be very, very kinky. I want sensation more than anything, even sex. And I'm not attracted to people, just to play."

At that he seemed to understand a bit better. In fact, he told me that he knows three or four people who identify the same way.

"But they're extreme players, they need a lot of sensation..." he added, his voice distant, as if recalling something.

I was curious but didn't want to push it. It was a comfort to me just to know there might be others like me out there somewhere, that my way of being is something that can be recognized. Now that he knew how new and vulnerable I was, though, he began to caution me about jumping in too far, too fast.

"There are a lot of real sadists out there, dangerous people," he said. "You shouldn't just go to play with anybody. Meet him in public, talk to him first, you know...".

I agreed, and told him that one reason I'd come to his shop was because he was a professional with a reputation to maintain. He told me he was honored that I chose him. I told him I'd been thinking about playing with someone for a long time.

"Do you fantasize about me?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, smiling secretively.

"And when you masturbate...?"

I didn't want to say that it wasn't him I fantasized about so much as his shop and his fetish gear in case it came off as insulting, so I said the one true thing I could think of.

"Sometimes I think about the first time you fitted me for that corset, when you laced me up. You know, that might have been the first time I was ever turned on by someone touching me."

"You should have brought it with you. I would've laced you up again."

"I'll bring it if I ever have a chance to come back."

He nodded, once again looking thoughtful.

"Ok. I'm going to give you a little gift for being such a good girl. And when you wear it, you think of me, alright?"

He went away for a moment and came back with a custom-made split-crotch leather thong panty. Along the opening it had a length of chain secured with a small bolt at the back and front. It was very clear where that chain was meant to go. I flushed hot and wet again at the sight of it. He instructed me to stand before him, lift my skirt, and put this arousing device on. He directed me on how to position the chain between my lips and described how it would rub my clit as I walked. When I had it on, I showed it to him and, at his direction, looked at myself in the mirror. As I looked, he pulled up gently on the back and front at once, driving the chain deeper into me. I gasped as it tightened on my still-sensitive flesh. He told me to keep it on until I got home that evening.

"I know you can't move to Montreal," he said as I got ready to go, "but I hope you'll come back and play with me."

"I'd love to. But you should know that this could be the last time. Amie is moving soon, and if she's not here..."

I trailed off meaningfully. He nodded and said,

"Nobody owns anyone."

I nodded back in relief. He was releasing me from all obligation. We'd had our time together, and if we had another chance that would be wonderful, but if not there would be no hard feelings. We hugged again before I left, joining once more before parting.

It was around 3:30 by this time. I'd been in there an hour and a half, longer than I expected. I was surprisingly hungry after all that I'd been through, both leading up to the scene and afterwards. I texted Amie and we went to our favourite café together, where I had a raspberry-almond croissant and a lemon tea. I still had the chain panties on and no other underwear, so it was embarrassing and thrilling at once to sit there talking with her, pretending nothing was happening, when I knew inside how deeply aroused I still was by the metal links rubbing against my tender clit.

Eventually we finished up our snack and headed back to Amie's place. I texted the corset-maker before entering the subway at 4:45. He wrote again, asking "How are you baby??" around 7:00, so I sent him snippets of my written account of our scene that he proclaimed beautiful. I had another text from him the next morning wishing me a good trip home. I honestly didn't expect so much attention from him, but it seems I really did do something valuable and powerful for him, just as much as he did for me.

Above all, though, I did something amazing for myself on these Montreal escapades. I opened myself up to a risky experience and come out with pleasure, praise, and pride in my body and my abilities. I found a way to fulfill fantasies that, a year or two before, I couldn't even admit aloud, much less dream of living out in reality. It was the experience I'd been craving, what I needed to feel more confident entering the kink scene. My adventures didn't always go exactly as planned and there were a few nervous moments, but even that was a valuable experience in its own way. So for now, I'll close the book on this story of a new sub in Montreal and start planning another volume of "true fantasy" a little closer to home.