In the Care of Miss Crimson

I moaned and panted as I twisted against the heavy rubber cuffs at my wrists and ankles, pulling fruitlessly against the chains holding me spread eagle on the upright cross.

"Awwww, does our boy not want to play?" Miss Crimson teased, raising her voice so I could hear her through the leather, as she ran her long red nails along my back, skating along my bare skin down across my ass cheeks. I flinched away, eliciting a bark of laughter from both her and our audience watching from elsewhere in the dungeon.

I was hooded, vision blacked out since she locked me onto the damn thing, but I could almost picture them. Tony, short and thick in his green robe, seated between Mel and Ros, his two gorgeous T girls. They'd be dressed identically in club dresses, but I hadn't seen them before Miss Crimson put me on the cross.

William, gray haired and slim, probably still in his suit shirt and slacks, with Jaime on his knees sucking him off. Even if his little boytoy wasn't blowing him yet I was sure he'd be wrapping his lips on that old bastard's cock before the first whip stroke landed. From a few squeaks I assumed Jaime was in latex tonight, if anyone was shimmying around in black latex shorts and vest it would be the little german youth look alike.

From a particularly loud cackle I knew Shannon was there. I could just picture her, black hair cascading down her broad back, striding confidently in heels and a leather dress. She'd never let her college volleyball muscles fade, and I shivered at the memory of the last time Miss Crimson let her hold the whip.

I didn't quite know who else might be there. Probably James, I could imagine him sitting nearest to the action, ready to pull out his cock and start stroking as I danced. The hulking bodybuilder really enjoys nothing so much as watching Miss Crimson work. Yu and Sung might have arrived, they too loved a good hard pain session, but they were almost always early. I wouldn't have missed their loud and excited chattering as Miss Crimson got everything ready. The pair of them were always on the lookout to expand either their toy collection or skillset.

I'm sure there were others I didn't know. It was a kink, a weakness of mine, and one Miss Crimson used ruthlessly. To be used and abused and degraded before an audience who were strangers to me.

Miss Crimson had teased me with the possibility of inviting Sarah, but I doubted it. She wasn't even into kink, as far as I knew, and we'd been friends for ten years. I was 99% sure it was Miss Crimson playing another of her complex and rather demented mind games with me.

But I'd learned too much about the dear, cruel, and inventive Miss Crimson to entirely discount it. The heavy leather of the hood around my ears kept me from being sure, but every time I caught a snatch of a feminine voice, or a high pitched giggle, I wondered. And as I wondered, I squirmed.

A slap to my bare ass brought me back out of my musings and I groaned around the gag. A bright red ball gag, quite traditional. Except for it, the hood, and the metal cage around my cock I was completely naked. Miss Crimson dug her fingers into my ass and rested her chin on my shoulder.

"I am going to fucking ruin you, slave," she hissed in my ear. I trembled under her focus. She wasn't kidding and I knew it.

"Be a good boy and put on a show for our friends," she tapped my balls with a long lacquered nail and I nodded. As if I could do otherwise.

Then she retreated, and the crowd grew hushed. I knew she was withdrawing the first of the implements she would use. I shivered as I thought what she might pick. Could it be a paddle, a flogger, a small whip? She'd started on me with the long single tailed whip last time, so I doubted She'd repeat herself, and even she wasn't sadistic enough to use the cane before I was good and warmed up.

Or, well, I hoped she wasn't sadistic enough.

The first hit came without warning, a stroke across both my ass cheeks, flat and stinging. I knew instantly it was her slim wooden paddle with the word 'bitch' carved out of the middle.

It should really tell you how well acquainted I am with Miss Crimson that I knew it from the first stroke. I jerked against my bondage and let a wordless sound break from my gagged lips, spittle dribbling around the gag as I shifted position.

The paddle landed again, and again. A pair on one cheek, then the other. A pair of blows angled up, then angled down. I jumped as, without pause, the next stroke drove powerfully into my now smarting buttocks.

The firehouse, heavy rubber cored with a thick fabric covering, all attached to a wooden handle. The king of thud.

I didn't jump at that, just tried to curl my legs into my core, and it landed again. I was dimly aware of more chatter, cat calls and laughter, but as always once Miss Crimson began her work my world shrank to a few square feet of skin and the efforts she lay on them.

The hose landed a few more strokes, pummeling my glutes, before she switched to a flogger. The trailing end of the leather straps landed from my shoulders to the small of my back, and I hung my head. She used two, one in each hand whirling through the air to impact, and I moaned again, this time with relief. After the intensity of the paddle and hose this was almost kind, waves of heat and energy flowing down my body.

Then, a stop. Silence. I lifted my head and exhaled, consciously driving all the stress and tension from me in anticipation of the next stroke.

Something snapped behind me, and I felt the barest touch of air between my shoulder blades. I knew instantly what it was and froze. That was the sound of the long, single tailed whip.

More snaps, and now the tip raked my skin. Miss Crimson was a virtuoso with the whip, I'd seen her put out candles without spilling a drop of hot wax. The strokes, bright sparks of sting that blotted out everything else, landed sharper and sharper, lower and lower.

I couldn't avoid thrashing as the next set landed across my already reddened ass, each crack of the leather accompanied by a burst of pain that tore through my focus and resolve. I found myself babbling through the gag, wordlessly venting myself, writhing on tiptoes.

Just as suddenly, she stopped. Silence. I relaxed again, letting the heat and lingering sting pervade my mind as my skin burned from her ministrations. I got my breathing under control, taking in deep and leather scented gulps of air through my nose.

Then I felt it. She was resting a long, thin rod against my ass, as if promising where it might land. I couldn't help myself, I jerked despite the fact that it hadn't actually hit me.

A cane is no joke, even to an experienced submissive. I heard more laughter, closer, and then the first real touch of the cane.

I knew instantly it wasn't Miss Crimson's wielding the cruel cane. She knew me back and front, probably understood my limits and the turns of my kink better than me. But this person was timid. The first stroke was hardly more than a tap, and the second only a bit harder.

Miss Crimson must have given them some pointers, because after the space of a deep breath the third hit hard. I let out a whine as the wood crashed into my buttocks, the flash of agony erasing all my dignity at once. The next one was even harder, and I started gibbering. I have no idea what it must have sounded like to the audience, but the wielder of my torment seemed to like it. The next stroke came at nearly the same spot and just as hard. My cock, caged and bound away, bounced as my body bucked.

My knees bent and hand curled into fists. I shook my head and grunted, lost in the flood of adrenaline. There was nothing for a breath, then two, and in the middle of the third a new stroke of the cane landed. This was the heaviest of all, and I saw stars within the darkness of the hood.

I trembled, almost hanging off the cuffs that held me, utterly spent. I was lying limp for a full twenty seconds before I realized no more strokes had come.

Then, fingers. Soft, caressing fingers rubbing my poor abused butt. I knew from the lack of long nails it wasn't Miss Crimson, but I had no idea who else it might be. Ros and Mel wouldn't be doing aftercare, Jaime would be tickling William's pubes with his nose, and Shannon would probably be trying to break out more toys.

The fingers led to hands rubbing ointment from my shoulders to my thighs, tracing the welts of the whip and the bruises of the cane. Then they washed me down with a wet hand towel, warm and calming.

Finally, I felt the cuffs being unlocked, each padlock in turn being clicked away. I got confirmation that the hands weren't Miss Crimson's, as her familiar strong presence helped me off the frame as the soft hands continued soothing me.

"Now boy, I'm going to take the gag out but not the hood,' Miss Crimson murmured in my ear, in that rumble of a voice that told me she was basking in the afterglow of the scene as much as I was. "You get some water, then are you up to eating some pussy?"

I nodded, and I felt the gag's lock being opened. I rolled my jaw as the gag came out, savoring the freedom, and to my surprise the soothing hand wiped my face with another, fresh towel.

"I bet you're wondering who that is," Miss Crimson giggled. "Patience boy. You'll know soon enough."

I nodded, and gulped greedily as a water bottle was presented to me. The cold shocked my skin, refreshing every part of me as I drank.

"Thank you," I gasped, water dripping down my bare chest. I felt two sets of hands, one the talon of Miss Crimson and the other the soft hands, guide me across the space.

Now that I wasn't as distracted, as closer to the center of the action, I could make out individual voices. Jaime gagging on William's cock. Tony cooing and egging on Ros. Shannon grunting as someone or something plowed her. My pain had kick-started their night, and it was far from over.

I was guided and then encouraged to lie down on my back with a hand to my chest. I felt the soft cushion of the queening bench cradle me, and I smiled. I had actually built it for Miss Crimson, a solid wood construction with padding. A simple design but well carved for maximum comfort, where one person lay face-up and another sat on their face. I couldn't see it, but I could imagine the almost toilet seat-like opening, my hooded face framed by black cushion.

As I lay, I felt Miss Crimson and her helper restrain me. My cuffs were locked to eye bolts, a wooden inset slid into place to keep my head still.

I waited. I didn't have to wait long. Soon I felt someone take their seat, the sudden scent of musk filling my nose. I didn't hesitate before lifting my head and diving in. A slight click echoed in the small box as a headrest ratcheted into place, a necessary accommodation for nice long sessions.

I didn't recognize the pussy, I knew that at once. Just about every vagina that attends Miss Crimson's play parties I've dived into at least a few times. This one was bare, which ruled out most, and the shape of the labia lips ruled out Sung and Yu. It was dripping wet, but hadn't been creampied. I'd gotten plenty of experience with that too.

I had prided myself on being an enthusiastic, if relatively inexperienced cunnilingist when I met Miss Crimson. Under her, well, tutelage the inexperienced part of that description vanished.

Soon, the cunt I was licking, slurping, sucking, kissing, and teasing shook and I felt the warm glow of a job well done. It rose, and another replaced it. I knew Miss Crimson's snatch very nearly from the smell, and one good lick confirmed it. I began again with gusto, burying my lips into her lips, and was rewarded with a shudder from her.

Once Miss Crimson had her orgasm, someone gave me more water, then a break. I almost dozed off, the sounds of debauched laughter and muffled moans acting as a soporific.

Then I felt hands fiddling with my cock cage. I jerked in the cuffs, and I felt one soft hand gently placed on my stomach to reassure me.

Now I really had no idea who it might be. Just about everyone at Miss Crimson's parties is there because they get a kick from seeing a submissive struggle.

The hands unlocked the cage, leading to more questions, before freeing my aching cock. Those soft hands stroked and tickled, and in seconds I was hard.

Then someone sat on the box, from the wrong direction for it to be the same person who had soft hands. I lifted my head and took a well trained lick. 'Ah, Shannon', I realized from the thick bush and strong musk. After a few more licks I tasted a salty tang, and knew I was sucking a creampie out of her snatch. 'Definitely Shannon,' I knew. Miss Crimson might have quite enjoyed getting her boy to clean her out after a hard fucking, but for Shannon it was an integral part of her play experience. If there wasn't any other cock owner available, she'd even asked Miss Crimson for my keys upon occasion, so intensely did she want to get a hot load shot into her cunt.

The soft hands weren't very experienced as they made their way around my cock. Not the hands of a femme twink then, I knew. It wasn't hard to keep myself from coming as I diligently cleaned out the messy snatch before me.

Shannon grunted and rose. She hadn't cum, but that was never the point; I was pretty sure she could only come from a quite sizable penetration or really intense clitoral stimulation. I returned my attention to the hands massaging my cock. They were now softly handling my nuts, and gently stroking the shaft.

I was close. Just being out of the cage was a wonder, and between the lingering impacts, the taste of sex in my mouth, the atmosphere of an orgy, and the first hand job I'd received in a while I was nearing my limit.

It was a test or game from Miss Crimson of course. A way to tease me, and either get my lust revved up before icing me down and locking me, or forcing me to blow a load against her standing orders. Either way, I was helpless against it.

Then a set of wet lips covered the tip of my cock and a tongue licked the slit. I moaned, and could feel those lips smile. I was screwed.

Just as I was sure I was about to shoot my load, a voice just above the queening box said, "go on boy. You have my permission."

I was so shocked I almost forgot to say "Thank you Miss Crimson," before allowing myself to be carried away as a second lick caused me to explode. I hadn't cum in two weeks, and jet after jet of semen burst into that lovely person's mouth.

They seemed to catch most of it. And unlike some of my expectations of where that cum would wind up, they must have either swallowed it or spit it out somewhere, for the mouth vanished. The hand returned to clean me up, then came the inevitable ice bag and the cold metal of the chastity cage.

But I was still basking in the glow of it. And by the time my cock was able to stir and hope for round two, another snatch appeared for me to service. I was pretty sure it was Yu's but it might have been Sung. I was quite lost by that point in the night, adrift in sub space and endorphins.

I almost fell asleep in the queening box, but was roused to do one last bow. Everyone gave me one good smack on my poor abused ass cheeks, ranging from a playful swat that I was sure came from Ros, to a powerful spank that could have only come from Shannon or James.

Only once her guests had left, did Miss Crimson remove my hood.

I blinked against the red light of the dungeon lamps, despite how low they were. She smiled and took my chin in her hand. "Did you have a good time boy?" She asked almost lazily.

"Very much Miss Crimson," I told her honestly. She looked about as tired and full of afterglow as I was.

"Good, let's get cleaned up. I ordered some Chinese delivery that should get her in about 20." She turned and started to wipe down some of her equipment.

Miss Crimson was a well preserved 40, a gorgeous woman who equaled my height in flats and towered over me in heels, as she did now. She favored red in everything; dyed red hair, red nails, red leather dresses and red PVC leggings. She even had red contact lenses to really trip out a submissive.

She had a great rack she'd paid good money for a few years ago, and a fantastic body and ass she worked hard to maintain. I still could hardly believe I'd wound up as her submissive.

Upstairs, tastefully covered by bathrobes and digging into Chinese delivery, she asked me, "did you guess who that was?"

I shook my head no, mouth full of orange chicken. It barely mattered, now that I was out of scene. I wasn't especially shy about my interest in kink, so most of my friends knew I was active in 'the scene'. If one of them saw me, hey, it'd be weirder for them than for me.

She smirked. "She enjoyed you. You might even play again. She was a novice but has some potential, calls herself Miss Lilac. Notice anything out of place while we were cleaning up?"

I thought about it. William left a few hundred dollars tucked out of the way as a friendly gift, but he always did that. There weren't any leftover underwear or jewelry that I had found.

"No," I said, gulping down.

That smirk grew wider. "Well, think about it," she teased.

I considered pressing her, but I dropped it.

I spent the night, made her breakfast in bed and gave Miss Crimson a morning orgasm as was our custom.

As I was climbing out of her bed, wiping her juices from my chin, she said thoughtfully "I'll miss this," as she took a sip of coffee and sighed.

I turned, and just raised my brow.

"Oh, nothing," and that smirk returned. "Just thinking that nothing lasts forever. You're more than a decade younger than me boy; you should find a domme your age and show her the ropes. Teach some young thing how to really own a man."

I shook my head. "I can't imagine another woman being anything like you, Miss Crimson," I said, as always careful to use her full title.

"Oh, nothing like me," she waved. "But consider it. Variety is the spice of life after all."

"Don't you usually say that right before testing some new toy on my ass?" I teased, and we both chuckled.

"Anyway, you have something today, right?" She said, glancing at the clock.

I followed her gaze and nodded. "Meeting Sarah for brunch, yeah. See you in a few days?" I asked.

She nodded, and waved again to dismiss me.

I was almost late to brunch, which shouldn't have mattered since Sarah was always late to everything in her life. But as I entered the Cafe there she was, dressed in a light purple sundress accented by a dozen or so pieces of metal and glass jewelry. She looked every inch the manic pixie dream girl, bubbly and a bit off putting, slim and petite.

"Hey," I said as I embraced her. She'd cut her brown hair recently, leaving just a bob.

"Hey yourself," she smiled and motioned for me to sit. I did, leaning back and opening my mouth to ask how her trip to Europe had gone.

But something caught my eye. It was a key, hiding in the debris of her bohemian necklaces. A steel key with a wide, flat base and a slim spine with one row of very precise sharp teeth.

I knew that key. And suddenly I knew what Miss Crimson had meant from the night before. Not something out of place from the dungeon, but out of place with her.

She had not been wearing my chastity key around her neck as she usually did. Because that key was dangling from the neck of my oldest childhood friend.

A dozen emotions crossed over themselves at once as my eyes roved over Sarah. I saw her hands, nails short and skin very well moisturized. The glint in her eye, playful, as she tracked my own gaze.

The smile, the same lopsided smile that meant she had some prank or game going on and wanted me to play. Only this time I knew exactly what game she wanted.

My cock throbbed in its cage.

"Well, hello, Miss Lilac," I said as she leaned in and beckoned me with a finger.