Purple Silk

She had been there for days, or was it merely hours; time had become a blur as she stood there impatiently waiting. She had never seen a lair like it before and she had been in several in her lifetime. The tiled floors were a deep earthy mauve; the wooden columns were painted a dark purple and lavender silks were draped about the walls. The rosy flesh of the captives stood out in stark contrast to the hue of the room, and the reddened flesh of the recently flogged stood out even more.

The silk cords wrapped around her wrists exactly five times before being knotted at her palms. Her arms were stretched straight out from her body forming a tee and then tied to round wooden posts. Her fingers were wrapped around the silk knots and then bound to them with a small piece of silk fabric. Her ankles were also tied with silk and tethered to the ground behind her. A silk gag muffled her voice. She wondered how many others were with her in the chilly room besides those she could see and tried to listen for their breathing by quieting her own. It occurred to her that the others might be doing the same and that she would not hear them because of it. Nevertheless, she still tried to listen for them.

When she heard footsteps approaching, she sighed, as much as she could sigh, and hoped that she would be attended soon. She felt rough hands upon her breasts and long fingers pinching her nipples. She moaned as her nipples hardened. Rough hands grabbed her thighs and parted them. A long supple tongue darted between her legs teasing her silky mound. She wanted the tongue inside her, but it did not enter. She writhed where she stood and struggled against her bonds. “Take me,” her muffled voice pleaded through the silk. Her plea fell upon deaf ears as the footsteps wandered off.

She listened as the footsteps moved somewhere behind her. She heard the rush of moving air and the crack of leather hitting flesh. She heard the muffled screams of another captive and knew that she was not alone then. She counted each stroke of the strap as it struck its target. She wanted to know what to expect when it was her turn. “…Eight, nine, ten. Exactly ten strokes.” She made a note of that for future reference.

She listened as the footfalls moved again and stopped somewhere else behind her in the room. She heard the thud of a wooden paddle accompanied by loud moans as another captive received her treatment. She counted again, “seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. It had been ten before.” It occurred to her that it was useless to count but she would continue anyway. It was something to do. The feet moved again and she heard the rush of a cane and the sharp crack of its impact on flesh. “…Five, six, seven. Seven with the cane, ten with the strap, twelve with the paddle, at least this time. And three others in the room, maybe more.” She strained to listen, trying to figure out where the next captive stood in the room. She heard the footsteps disappear and tried to relax.

She couldn’t relax. The space between her legs ached for attention. Her juices dripped down her thighs. Her nipples throbbed. Her back began to warm in anticipation. “What would it be?” She wondered, “When would it be?”

She turned her head toward the approaching sound of footsteps, hoping to get a glimpse of her captor but all she saw was a purple robe approaching a nearby girl. She watched as he removed the girl’s gag. He pulled aside her hair and then took the tagger to her ear. She was a new addition and he had wanted to hear her cry out in pain when the needle penetrated the lobe. The young girl begged to be released. She struggled against her gag to offer kind assurances to the young girl. “Don’t be afraid,” her voice struggled through the muffling silk. She smiled as the girl wept.

The purple-robed Master turned toward her and, seeing her smile, came over to her. “You remember this?” he asked, pointing toward the frightened girl.

“Yes, my Lord,” her muffled voice replied as dragged the braided whip across her breasts, teasing her nipples. “I remember being afraid,” she continued as he loosened her gag, “but there was nothing to fear.” Her legs spread to accept the braided leather as he slipped the rough handle of the whip between her legs. . “I remember the first sting of the whip and the tears I shed.” He smiled as he cracked the whip against her belly. She continued, “I remember the first time that I found pleasure in the whip.” He walked behind her and began to whip her while she uttered through her moans of pleasure, “I remember it all.”