Headgames Ch. 02

Miriam was euphoric for the first few days after her initiation, She'd actually done it!--dared to put herself under the control of other people, dared to accept what they chose to do to her, dared to face her fear. She now carried within her something secret and special, her new center. She even felt a bit condescending toward the people around her who hadn't discovered this scary fairy kingdom, where you could quest for the joy of humbling yourself without fear and trusting someone else without reserve.

After a few days, she remembered Jacob's admonition to "think about it." Even though Jacob and Kee had been so considerate, so likable, after her panic in the chair, she knew that they could just as easily be implacable and steely. They wouldn't act as if this was a game. They intended to push her limits. She realized that she didn't know where those limits were. How much could she take without breaking?

There had been no sex at all in her initiation, and sex would be a whole other dimension. She had been with quite a few men, but never with a woman. What would Jacob and Kee demand from her?

She assumed she'd have to suck Jacob's cock and she'd have to go down on Kee. She wasn't afraid of that stuff, she rather liked the idea of being made to submit that way. Denial of orgasm might be interesting. All of that was within her comfort zone--although exactly how it was done could make a big difference.

She was unexpectedly nervous about being penetrated, even vaginally. Somehow, that seemed like, well, going all the way. She liked Jacob, a lot, but she didn't feel the personal connection to him that intercourse seemed to imply. She was downright scared of anal, which she'd never done. Maybe a small plug would be OK. But Jacob's cock thrusting wildly inside her?

She was ambivalent about restraints. While being strapped to the chair had scared her, she wasn't being sexually excited then. Yeah, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She found the idea of being fucked while bound was somehow a little easier. If she had no choice about it, well, what could she do but submit?

Then there were all the punishments they might inflict on her. In her fantasies she was just spanked by hand, or maybe a few licks with a belt. But Jacob and Kee had a lot more than that in their armory. Miriam feared the slashing sting of a whip. And she feared that gag. Nothing had ever made her feel more helpless.

But wasn't the whole point that they decided, not her? That she was being challenged to face her fear? And for her to submit trustingly?

..........................................................

She showed up at her next appointment precisely on time, dressed exactly as she had for the first one, and rang their doorbell with trepidation.

Jacob opened the door promptly. Kee was standing behind him. They didn't wear casual dress like the time before. Jacob wore black slacks, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a black leather vest. Kee was dressed similarly--full black skirt, white shirt, and black vest. She also wore a black choker and black leather boots. Her glowing chestnut hair spilled down to her shoulders. She was beautiful, but now she had a severe look.

"How do you feel today?" Jacob asked. Miriam replied that she felt well.

They went over to the big desk by the window. Jacob took her car key and driver's license. Then he took out the contract he had had her sign on the previous appointment.

"We'll sign and date this again," he said. Each of them signed and dated the document.

"Now," Jacob said, "accept us as your master and mistress for today."

Miriam at first wasn't sure what he meant. Then she remembered how she had kissed their shoes. She knelt and awkwardly performed the ritual. She sat back on her heels and put her hands on her knees. She kept her face down.

"As before," said Jacob, "your safe word is 'tomato.' You may use it at any time. Otherwise, do not speak unless you are spoken to." Miriam nodded.

"Acknowledge commands with 'yes, Master" or 'yes, Mistress'," he said sharply.

"Yes, Master."

"Your name today will be Little Girl."

"Yes, Master."

Kee stepped forward and fastened a dog collar around her neck. A leash was attached. Kee tugged on the leash, and Miriam moved onto all fours and followed her. When they got to the stairs, she found it so difficult to crawl down them head downward that she had to curl her legs to the side and slide awkwardly down, using her hands to brake herself. Kee gave her time. At the bottom, she returned to all fours and followed Kee into the big room.

Kee dropped the leash. She and Jacob disappeared somewhere off to her right. They were gone for a while. Miriam didn't move her hands and knees, but she dared to turn her head a little. She saw several structures, some wood, some metal. Some had padding. All seemed to have rings in various places. Some had straps with buckles, like the chair she had been in the time before. She saw a little bit of a rack against the wall that appeared to have ropes, chains, canes and what looked like a quirt. She shuddered.

Jacob and Kee came back. All she could see was Jacob's shoes in front of her. Stop thinking of their names! Remember Master and Mistress, Master and Mistress.

"Now," Master said, "remove your blouse."

"Yes, Master." She sat back onto her heels.

"No," he snapped. "Down. Like a dog." Miriam sank back.

It wasn't too hard, balancing on one hand, to undo the blouse buttons. When that was done, she realized the only way to get it off was to pull it over her head. Again balancing on one hand, she inched the back up toward her head with her fingers until she managed to pull it over, then yanked the sleeves down. From there, she could get them over her wrists.

"Now the skirt." After saying the required phrase, she undid the belt and unzipped the back. It wasn't too hard to pull it down around her knees.

"The bra."

"Yes, Master." She pulled the bra straps down over her shoulders. It was impossible to unhook it without two hands. She had to, first, yank the bottom up over her breasts, which scraped her nipples unpleasantly. She tugged the back up by the straps until it was near the nape of her neck. When she tried with one hand to catch the opposite side, she toppled over.

Master said, "Mistress, mark that down." To Miriam: "Continue." She forgot to say, "Yes, Master." Master pointed that out and told Mistress to mark it down, too. She knew, with a sinking feeling, that these things were being marked down for later punishment.

She got back on all fours and resumed the struggle. With great difficulty she got the bra far enough up toward one shoulder to get a decent grip on it. Then, finally, she got it over her head. Her breasts hung down.

"The panties." This time she didn't forget the acknowledgement. The panties were easy to get down to her knees.

"The shoes and socks." After the obligatory phrase, she reached back with one hand. The panties constricted her movements, though they slipped some down her calves as she struggled. The skirt got in the way terribly. After several tries, during which she nearly fell again, she got ahold of a shoelace and tugged. Then she went through it again with the other shoe. Using each foot, she dislodged the shoe from the other foot. The socks were easy.

Now she was naked except for the panties and skirt bunched on her legs. Mistress tugged on the leash and she moved forward. The skirt slipped off after a few doggie steps. The panties made crawling difficult until they, too, finally shuffled off.

She was led to the foot of what looked like a small, sturdy wooden table and told to rise. When she did she forgot to look down. She stifled a gasp and bit her lip. Master and Mistress were standing on the other side. Master had a black hood over his head, like an executioner. Only his eyes and his mouth were visible. She knew it was Jacob, but his eyes and mouth were alien in that mask. He was inscrutable, unaccountable, unknown. An executioner has no pity. Mistress wore only a black harlequin mask.

Master noted her failure to look down, and Mistress recorded it. Miriam quickly dropped her face.

She was told to stand at one end of the table. Master strapped her ankles together to a cross member. She was ordered to bend over the table, which was padded, and stretch her arms out. Her wrists were fasted to the table top on the opposite side.

"Three failures," said Master. "What do you think, Mistress? Three strokes for each?"

"I think that's a bit strict. It is her first time for punishment."

"Very well, then. I'll reduce it by one. Eight strokes."

Miriam thought she was going to cry. She was going to be beaten. She didn't know with what or how hard. Miriam thought about what Mistress had said last time, about being the good cop, about liking to help women let go and trust. Oh, I need you to help me! Please! I'm so scared!

Mistress tied a blindfold over her eyes. After a moment, some kind of fabric touched her lips. She was told to open her mouth, into which the fabric was crammed. After a moment, she realized it was her own panties.

She heard them walking away, and then, incredibly, up the stairs. It was a relief that her punishment wouldn't happen immediately. Or was it? Maybe it would have been better to get it over with right away.

"Strokes" sounded like a cane. Or a quirt? Oh, God, a quirt would be unbearable! They beat horses with those!

Her posture was scarcely comfortable, but it would be tolerable for a while. That her asshole was exposed made her nervous. At least she wasn't suffering with that terrible ball gag. The panties were a nuisance, but she could move her tongue and could swallow a little.

At first time seemed to pass quickly. She dreaded hearing them come down the stairs. Then time began to drag. This is like last time! What did they say? They'd use my imagination against me? Well, I won't let my imagination scare me, then. Trust! Trust, trust, trust, no matter what. It's my job to just wait. I can do that. She actually relaxed a little.

Then she heard their footsteps. The trust vanished and fear flooded in. She squirmed, but of course it did no good.

Master startled her by speaking suddenly, sounding if he was just above her head.

"Little Girl, you did fairly well carrying out my orders. You failed only three times. But I must have perfect obedience. So you will be punished for your errors. Nod your head if you understand."

She moved her head as much as she could.

"Very well, then. Mistress and I have decided on eight strokes. Nod your head if you understand."

Miriam jerked her head in fright.

Someone removed the panties from her mouth. That was a relief. Then Master asked, "Do you want to use your safe word? You will not have another chance."

She froze. Oh, God, this is final! I'm telling them to put me in pain! She was more afraid of that pain than anything else. Except... giving up. Losing her chance to let go and trust. She had come here just for this. She would hate herself if she backed out now. Working her mouth with some difficulty, she managed to say, "No, Master."

He stuffed the damp panties back in her mouth. She felt only despair. She heard Master move to her rear.

She didn't have long to wait. A terrible thwack landed across her ass, the lower, tender part of it. The pain rose, far beyond anything she had prepared herself for. A massive fireball at its center, and it seemed to radiate everywhere. She screamed through the gag.

Then soft hands took both of her forearms, right behind her tied wrists. Mistress said softly, "Little Girl, you can get through this. I've done it, and I know you can, too."

The second blow landed. If anything, it was worse than the first. Tears rushed into her eyes. She could not remember ever suffering pain like this. She made a noise deep in her throat, but she didn't scream. It wouldn't do any good.

"It will be over soon, Little Girl. Be brave. Hold my arms."

Desperately she grabbed for Mistress' forearms. The third blow landed. She and Mistress tightened their hands simultaneously. She held Mistress in a death grip. Mistress was all she had. Oh, God, flames a foot high were burning her ass.

When the fourth blow landed, she sobbed in anguish, as much as she could through the gag.

"Little Girl, it won't be long now. It will be worth it, I promise. Trust me."

She trusted Mistress, she thought as the fifth blow hit. It was Master was the problem. He was a fucking torturer.

"Honey, your fear makes it hurt more. Don't fight it."

In spite of her pain, she caught that "honey" and clung to it. She wasn't alone. Mistress was there.

Thwack. That one delivered a searing pain, towering above the pain already burning. She wept and sobbed "guh, guh, guh" through the gag.

"That was six, Little Girl. Almost there!"

I have two more?? She felt more hopeless about those two than she had about the eight.

The seventh crashed into her. It didn't seem quite as bad as the others. And the eighth landed immediately after, seeming almost perfunctory.

Immediately, Mistress removed the gag. Miriam gave a loud wail, followed by anguished, convulsive sobs. Tears poured out from under the blindfold. Mistress stroked her hair and caressed her shoulders. "There, it's over now, and you did great, Little Girl. I'm proud of you."

Mistress' words were welcome, but Miriam's ass was still a mountain of sheer pain. It was completely awful. She wanted to cry forever. Mistress stayed with her, touching and comforting.

In a few minutes, her restraints were removed. The blindfold, though soggy, stayed on. Master and Mistress helped her stand up, and supporting her on each side, led her to something padded, about bed height. They eased her onto her side, put a pillow under her head and another one between her knees.

Mistress sat down beside her, holding her hand, and said, "Cry as long as you want, Little Girl. It will make you feel better. The pain will die down fairly quickly. You'll be mostly numb for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, you'll be so sore you'll have trouble sitting, but should be able to tolerate what you need to. You don't work on Sunday, do you?" Miriam shook her head.

Mistress continued. "There will be big red marks. In a few days they'll turn into bruises. Then they will fade. Nothing permanent."

Miriam only half-listened to what Mistress was saying. She just craved the soft tone of her voice. And the touch of her hand.

After Miriam stopped crying and had rested for a while, Mistress removed the blindfold and helped her to her feet. She walked her to the bathroom and held her hands as she sat down, very, very hesitantly, on the toilet. Mistress was right, now she actually couldn't feel her ass much at all. Or, more exactly, she couldn't feel it if she didn't move. Otherwise, it was excruciatingly tender. Mistress told her to take her time, wash her face, come out when she was ready.

.........................................................

Miriam came out, and to her absolute shock, Mistress was now stark naked. Even her mask was gone. Mistress' body was bigger and more athletic-looking than Miriam's slender, pale, almost childlike one. Her skin had a healthy, outdoor glow. Her breasts were big, with conical nipples. Miriam's breasts weren't bad for her build, but not nearly as big as Mistress'. Mistress' pussy was shaved.

Master was not present. Mistress held out her hand to Miriam, smiling, and said, "Come, Little Girl, let's play."

Well, if Mistress was nude, it wasn't hard to guess what kind of play it would be. Miriam's gut gave a leap. She had thought carefully about this, and was skittishly interested in being with another woman. Even if her ass seemed, at present, to be missing.

Mistress led her to a back corner of the big room, where a private chamber was formed by two black curtains that hung from ceiling to floor. They entered. Small dots of light filtered through the curtains. There was some kind of glowy lamp down low in the corner. She could see Mistress just clearly enough to make out the expression on her face.

Other than the lamp, the chamber contained only an odd-looking chair. It was shaped like a large seashell, with a tall, somewhat sloping, back, and sides that curled up to wide armrests. The seat dipped in the back and rose gently to a rounded ridge on the outer lip. Two rounded depressions cut through this ridge, one on either side. A padded kneeler ran in front on the floor.

Mistress gracefully sat down. She leaned back, semi-reclining, with her hands on the rests, her legs in the two depressions, and her pubic mound raised in the center. "Do you understand how this chair is used?"

Miriam smiled shyly and nodded her head. Then she remembered. "Yes, Mistress." She assumed that she was about to go down on her. She had butterflies--she wanted it, but was nervous about doing it right. Of course, she had masturbated, but she couldn't do that with her tongue. She had never tasted another woman. What would that be like?

Mistress stood up, and arranged some soft pillows on the seat. Then to Miriam's astonishment, she told her to sit down, and held her hands while Miriam gingerly lowered herself. Her legs were in the depressions, her womanhood raised up. In spite of her tender backside, she leaned back gratefully. Mistress knelt on the kneeler. She put her hands on Miriam's thighs and looked into her eyes.

"You need to learn this form of love, Little One. I'll demonstrate." Miriam could only smile in wonderment. This was so strange. She had never done it with a woman before, and here was her Mistress kneeling before her, to pleasure her! I'm supposed to be the submissive!

Mistress first parted Miriam's light, wispy bush and studied her. Then she looked up and said, "You have a beautiful pussy." Miriam blushed with pleasure. Still holding her open, Mistress bent and very slowly and softly drew the tip of her tongue over the most sensitive spot. A deep, aching need rushed through Miriam's loins. Her nipples firmed and her wetness sprang into action. She groaned.

"Lean back, close your eyes, Little One. Concentrate on what you feel. Let me do it all."

Miriam was more than happy to comply.

Mistress kissed her gently all around her mound, breathing into her, nuzzling her hair, stroking her inner thighs with her fingertips. Miriam set sail on a sea of desire.

Mistress shifted to the bottom of her cleft, first flicking a little outside it. Miriam's asshole tightened. Then Mistress began carefully licking up her juices.

Mistress' tongue moved deliberately, everything slow and precise, touching oh so gently, with an occasional faster, firmer flick. Miriam had never, ever been touched in such an ethereal way. By comparison, men were like oxen. Mistress' touch was almost too light to feel, yet it lit a flame of a hot purity she had never before felt.

Mistress' fierce concentration on what she was doing drew Miriam's own psyche into total concentration. It was like some solemn rite the two of them were performing together. She was no longer distracted by the strangeness of it all. It was wondrous, but that now seemed only as it should be. It felt as natural as water flowing downhill that Mistress should be carefully, gently pushing her toward what they both wanted to happen.

While she continued to trace, twirl and flick, Mistress slowly inserted two fingers into her cunt. Miriam gasped and groaned. She had had her G-spot stroked before. But men pawed it too hard, as if more was better. Mistress' touch was so light!--and far more rousing than the way men did it. Miriam was now very close.

Still stroking her inside, Mistress touched her enlarged clit very gently with the tip of her tongue. Miriam's orgasm blossomed suddenly but softly, gently, the warm ripples of her tunnel spreading through every nerve between her legs, into her asshole, up into her belly. It was like a resistlessly rising tide, rising and rising, and oh so sweet! Mistress brushed her clit gently a few more times, and the orgasm surged again and again, spreading like ripples in a quiet pond. Finally, Mistress let her start to come down. Only when Miriam stopped her rhythmic cries of "oh! oh! oh!" did she gently remove her fingers.