Submissive Beth Ch. 4byRoissy001©
As I waited in the Punish Room the following night, a teardrop slipped from my eye, rolled carelessly down my cheek, and fell silently on my naked breast. I knew at once it was a happy tear, because I was David's full-time "Sex-Slave". Sex-Slave. The words were new to me, but the meaning was clear. I was his, to do whatever pleased him, whenever it pleased him. And pleasing him was now my sole mission in life.
I stood there, naked and shivering, my hands at my sides, waiting for my beloved Master. The single overhead light bulb, directly above me, illuminated my body. My chest heaved. He kept me waiting for almost twenty agonizing minutes, knowing that with each passing moment my mind would be racing with thoughts of what he might do to me here in this scary room.
The door opened behind me. I shuddered reflexively. He moved stealthily behind me, his feet almost silent on the carpeted floor. Without a word, he placed a blindfold over my eyes, then tied it behind my head. All of a sudden my world was darkness. The cuffs were next. The fur-lined leather was drawn tightly around each wrist.
"Raise your right hand above your head," he commanded.
I complied, only to find him tie a rope, hanging limply from a rafter above, to the chrome right wrist cuff. As soon he tied it, the rope tightened considerably.
"Now your left hand," he ordered.
A moment later I was standing there in the middle of the room, naked and blindfolded, my arms over my head, tethered by ropes to the wooden rafter.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked, still standing behind me.
I had to laugh to myself. Is one ever "comfortable" hanging naked from the rafters? But I nodded affirmatively. Yes, I had already learned to speak only when given permission. And I was to learn that "comfort" was really only a small part of my new world. I had readily agreed to his terms: he would never permanently mark me and my safe-word, "Mercy," was my way out of anything I found too painful or too demeaning. I trusted David implicitly.
He stood behind me, his voice barely above a whisper in my ear. "Tonight you are going to learn about pain and pleasure, and how these terms are interchangeable. I am going to whip your body as I please, to test your limits, to teach you things you could never have imagined. We will start out slowly, but by the end of this session you feel such exquisite pain that your mind will spin. You may speak, Beth. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," I replied, the only words I had exchanged with him in over an hour.
"Spread your legs wider," he said, in a firm voice.
I grasped the rope above me in my hands for better balance, then opened my legs as best I could. Immediately, David's hand moved between my legs, from behind, and flattened against my vulva. His middle finger stole easily between the puffy lips and into me. I gasped out loud. His finger made a familiar squishing sound inside my vagina.
"My, isn't my little Beth wet this evening. Even the thought of a whipping turns her on, you sweet slut!"
I threw my head back in pleasure as his finger circled inside me, gathering my moisture from within. A moment later he withdrew the finger abruptly, then brought it upward in front of me, glistening, to my lips.
"Open," he commanded.
I did, and his finger entered my mouth.
I sucked on David's finger like a baby with a pacifier, tasting my own juices.
"You are wanton," he hissed in my ear.
He held his hand tightly over my mouth, his finger sheathed inside, while I greedily sucked. Yes, I was wanton... Lustful... Shameless… I needed this humiliation more than anything I had ever needed in my life, and David was not oblivious to my needs. I was a pawn for him, his ever-willing slave. What would have been total humiliation for me merely a month ago was now the source of a strange, new, wonderful pleasure. I was so glad I had taken that first frightful step.
He stepped back, leaving me alone in my nakedness. I sensed movement behind me and my ears strained to discern what he was doing. I had no sense of time or place. The whole world swirled around this room tonight. It was me, bewildered by it all, breathlessly wondering what might happen.
The faint whisper of movement in the air was followed abruptly by a room- deafening, co-mingled sound of his swishing whip and my screaming voice. The eight-stranded whip bit sharply into my ass. The sudden surprise of it had caught me totally off guard, and my scream was as much of shock as it was of pain. I grasped the rope above my hands tighter, trying to brace myself for what might come next. I waited for the pain once more…
Instead, David's fingertips ran lightly over the red stripes he had just left on my alabaster buns. His touch was at once soothing and refreshing. As he softly brushed my ass with his fingers, his other hand moved up the front of my body, light as a feather, over my abdomen, across my stomach, in soft, delightful concentric circles. His hand finally cupped my waiting breast, holding its weightiness like a small pineapple, then kneading it gently. He was giving me pleasure after pain, as he told me he would. My reward for being such a good girl...
He rubbed his thumb lightly over my nipple, and I felt it become turgid in an instant, sending an electric jolt downward. I had always suspected there was a nerve that ran from nipple to my clit, and David was verifying my suspicions. If I was wet between my legs before, I was soaked now. The juices running down my thighs soon cooled to the room's air, but the feeling made me acutely aware of how excited I was. I had just tasted the first whip of my life, and its affect still lingered, but there was something in me that wanted more. Much more... The proverbial light bulb had once again gone off in my head, and I was drowning in my own ocean of wants and desires.
David suddenly grasped my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed it tightly. I gasped out loud and winced behind my mask.
"Repeat after me," he hissed into my ear. "I am a wanton slut…"
"I am a wanton slut," I blurted.
"David's willing slave…" He squeezed the nipple even harder. Tears formed in my eyes.
"OH!" I cried. "David's willing slave."
"My mouth and my pussy and my ass are merely receptacles for his cum…"
'What else could they be,' I thought to myself. My breathing was becoming ragged now from the pain. "My mouth…" I swallowed hard, my mind searching to remember his exact words. "My pussy and my ass are merely receptacles for his cum."
I didn't even hear the whip this time, but it landed with a loud crack in a downward spiral right between my shoulder blades. His fingers never left my painful nipple. My body literally jumped from the floored as the new pain lit up my back. Hardly did he give me time to react when he reached back and drove another strike of the whip against my still tingling ass.
My breaths were coming in short, halting gasps as David's whip began a ceaseless drive from my ass to my back, up and down, bringing a searing pain that bore into my brain like a firestorm. I screamed so loudly my voice echoed in my ears. I lost count at the tenth stroke. Sweat poured from my brow.
When he finally released the nipple, the whipping also stopped. My backside must have looked like a road map. I moaned into the pain. I took deeper, more relaxed breaths now, and my screaming ceased.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Through my gasps for breath I somehow told him I was fine. Yes, fine. And proud. My first exposure to the whip, and I had managed to come through it relatively sane. In fact, and this was the hard part for my mind to accept at the time, there was a strange but definite sense that I could have taken more. Even, perhaps, that I wanted more, though I was somehow afraid to tell express this to him at this early stage of our new relationship.
He disappeared for a few moments again, and I heard a drawer open and close. Soon he was in front of me, and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "I am proud of you," he said, and his words were a balm to my still aching backside.
He pinched my nipple again, not as hard as before. All of a sudden I felt something sharp, biting into it. I moaned in pain.
"These are alligator clips," he said. "They might hurt a lot now, but when I take them off you will see stars."
He affixed the first one to my left nipple, then grasped my right nipple and clamped the jaws of the clip over it. I winced again.
"I have a tighter set of nipple clamps," he said, "but these will do for starters." Then he pulled what must have been a chain between each nipple clip. Little did he know I was seeing those stars already. "AHHHHH!" I cried.
"Is that a 'mercy'?" he asked.
Oh, did those clamps ever hurt! I sucked in a deep breath. "No," I blurted with as much bravado as I could muster. Then, and to this day I still wonder why, I said, "Never!"
Yes, I had resolved even at this early stage of my strange new world that David would never break me. That I would endure anything he might throw my way. That I was his, body and soul. My body for his use. Yes, my openings merely receptacles for his desires. That my pain, as much as I could endure, was his reward for loving me…
As he pulled the chain, my nipples stretched out from my breasts and real tears fell from my eyes behind my mask of blindness. I bit my lower lip to brace myself against the pain. Just when I thought I would almost faint, David's hand found its way between legs once more. His finger deftly moved between the folds of my pussy, then toyed with my clit, running circles around it, back and forth. The more he kept it up, the more the pain from my nipples seemed to ease.
He lessened his hold on the chain long enough to say, "You may cum."
My clit had never felt more alive. My whole body reveled in the pleasure/pain of David's ministrations. My knees suddenly became rubbery. I felt the orgasm take hold long before the waves of pleasure enveloped me. It shook my whole being. My body literally hung limply from the ropes above. I was panting like a dog. No orgasm I ever experienced, before or after, was anything like this one.
I came down slowly. David let the chain hang limply between my breasts. My chest rose and fell with each breath. I wanted so much to see him, to touch him, to feel him.
"I must go," he said, slowly backing away from me.
"Go?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yes," he replied. "I haven't had my glass of wine for the evening. When I come back, you can take care of my needs."
He walked out of the room, leaving me hanging there, in my shame and nakedness, the last vestiges of my orgasm still running through my mind.
Send private anonymous feedback to the author (to post a public comment instead).