tagBDSMNo Safe Words

No Safe Words


I knelt beside my master in the attitude he had prescribed. Eyes cast down to the floor at an angle of forty-five degrees. Heels together, knees fifteen inches apart, my butt resting on my knees. My arms behind my arched back, left wrist laid in the palm of my right hand.

My master who was drinking beer from a German stein had not spoken since I entered as the clock struck the appointed time. It was now fifteen minutes past that time and within me the tension grew. I had been warned in his peremptory e-mail that tonight was to be special. Yet so far nothing had occurred, in fact he had not even acknowledged my presence.

It was twenty two minutes past that time when my master spoke. “Zero do you recognize this?” He said handing me a manila envelope, it was not sealed.

I opened the envelope and took from it a sheet of heavy velum, the paper legal documents are written on. I unfolded it with care. “I recognize it master, it is the contract we agreed.”

“Look at it Zero it is invalid.”

I looked I read and reread the document. I looked at the stated terms and at the signatures and could see nothing wrong, it was as we had agreed. I deeded myself into servitude giving him exclusive use of my body, he undertook to take care of me. I looked at it once more, if my master said that it was invalid then it was invalid. Then I saw the problem, the contract had been signed exactly twelve months ago, and tonight the time limitation came into force. My period of servitude had come to an end.

“Twelve months have elapsed master.”

“Correct Zero. You must decide whether you wish to walk away from here a free woman or if you wish to ask to continue as my slave.”

I did not need time to think. “I wish to continue as your slave master.”

“So the question is do I wish to continue as your master, or is it time to replace you.” My master spoke thoughtfully – I hoped that he was toying with me.

My master stood up and paced across the room, I began to follow on all fours. He looked down at me. “What are you doing Zero? Did I ask you to follow me? At this time I am not your master.”

His words confused and cut me. Like a whipped puppy I crawled on my belly back to the place by my masters chair where I had been kneeling. My master stood by the fireplace looking into the dancing flames, he often does this, he says that in the flames he finds inspiration and answers. My master picks up a poker and livens the fire by prodding at the hot coals. He walks back to his chair, from the table by his side he takes another manila envelope which he hands to me. “This is the new contract read it very carefully before you agree to sign it.”

I read it, at first it appears to say the same as the last contract. Once again I give to him full and exclusive use of my body. Again he promises to take care of my welfare. There is the same twelve month limit on the duration of the contract.

Then I see the new clause. I am to agree to be permanently marked as his property. I have no problem with having another tattoo, his name or monogram will complement the love bird that is tattooed on my left thigh.

It was on the fourth reading that I realize the safe words have been omitted. “Master there are no safe words.”

“Zero. If you trust me as you say you do then you should not need safe words. In the last twelve months have you ever invoked the safe word? Do you really feel that you still need the safe word?”

I did not like the idea of no safe word, it felt distinctly unsafe – yet to insist seemed at the time to be an act of betraying his trust. For it was true, in the last year I had never invoked the safe words - not even the caution, ease-up word. Whatever he had done to me I had never felt in danger, pushed to my limits yes, but endangered, never. I tried once more. “Master whilst everything you say is correct and therefore logically I do not need a safe word, I would still feel more comfortable with the knowledge that there was a safe word.”

“Zero can you not understand that with the safe word I am unable to explore and push your limits. The safe word acts as a cushion protecting you from the reality of pain and pleasure. There are forms of pain and torment I cannot begin to explore with you because I feel inhibited by the existence of your safe word. Does it seem to you that it is right for the master to be fettered by the slave? Because that is the invidious position you placed me in over the last twelve months.”

As I picked up the pen I could hear alarm bells ringing. Ignoring the warning I placed my signature on the two copies of the document. I watched as my master signed both copies. Despite everything I felt relief, I was not to be discarded, I was bound in service to my master for another twelve months.

My master drained his stein when he stood up he unzipped his pants. “I need to take a leak.”

Before he had spoken my mouth had been open. I was happy for once again I was being permitted to serve my master. I gulped down the hot acid tasting fluid, then I dried his cock with my tongue. “Thank you master.”

He nodded his assent. I went to the bathroom where I sat on the pan and allowed his fluids to flow from me. As I sat there I mused upon my good fortune in finding a master who met my needs so well. When I returned I expected that my master would be hard and awaiting his usual blow job. I loved the feel of his creamy come when he spurted over my face, I even enjoyed the stinging of my eyes.

My master was standing by the fire when I returned. He beckoned to me. “Zero come here.” I crawled over to him. “Turn away from me.” I turned. I could feel his hands stroking my buttocks, I wiggled my ass in eager anticipation it was not to be a blow-job, I enjoyed him fucking my ass. “Now is the time for you to be marked.”

It was then that I realized what he intended to do. A tattoo I did not mind, but a brand is another thing. In the first place I am afraid of fire. I do not like to get too near to heat, this probably stems from having gotten burnt when I was a child. “Please master not a brand.” I said.

“Zero I am going to brand you.”

“I refuse.” I was terrified.

He laughed, it was a hard, harsh laugh. “You cannot refuse, you have just signed to say your body is mine for the next twelve months and that you agree to being permanently marked with my mark.”

“Master I assumed you meant a tattoo.”

“Never assume Zero it makes an ass out of me and out of you. Hands behind your back!”

Like a any well trained slave without thinking I complied. It was only when the handcuffs snapped shut that I realized I had placed myself further into his power. He looped a rope around my ankles, pulled the noose tight and fastened the tail of the rope to the links that joined the cuffs – I was sprawled on the floor hog-tied.

My master took the poker from the fire, I could see the end was an orangey red, as the temperature dropped it visibly changed color, I was fascinated by its apparent pulsations. Never have I felt such intense pain, it was as if the red-hot poker had been thrust deep inside me. I could smell the burning flesh, like bacon left too long on a bar-b-q. Then before I knew it he was done. My nerve endings must have shut down I did not feel the second or third stroke of the poker.

I was aware of my body reacting to pain in its usual way. My knees had opened and my cunt was gushing love juices. My master knelt down an arm around my shoulder. “There Zero it is done. Now every one will know whose property you are when they see the Zed on your flank.”

“Thank you master.” I said, for despite my tears I felt a warm glow of belonging – and I knew if there had been a safe word I would never have belonged so completely to my master.

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