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Click hereThe Hurdles
Gazing at the people strolling by my window I can't help but wonder what their lives are like—especially the women. Have they ever experienced five heart stopping orgasms in one day? When their bottoms touch a seat do the memories that instantly materialize cause them to secretly smile? Stupid really: to wonder about other people's lives when my own has more than enough to ponder. I find myself smiling and again look down at the letter.
I'm not afraid to open it, but every time I glance at the name I am transported back to that weekend three months ago. The visit to Darquesied's ranch; the "attack"; the bondage; the whipping; the orgasms; the wonderful shower. At the beginning I thought I was going to die. At the end I felt I had never really lived. In the span of less than a day I had run the emotional gamut from uncontrollable fear to unbridled pleasure and even now, retrospect brings arousal. I am thoroughly convinced that, on that Saturday, the moment I decided not to drive away, my life changed forever.
Sliding my hand beneath my panties, I reminisce...
When I went back to the house that afternoon Sam had already prepared a simple pasta and sauce lunch which I attacked with the gusto of a three hundred pound linebacker. It was clear that a couple of hours under Darquesied's "guidance" really worked up an appetite. We talked of many things. I had asked what he meant by "role playing" when he mentioned it earlier in the day. He said it varied for different people but most often it was "perfect slave".
We laughed again over his name and how and why he came up with the anagram.
We talked more of Kristel and how she had duped us both; me thinking I would be looking at a fine hand-crafted armoire and Sam thinking that I was here to voluntarily experience a "session".
The subject of Kristel took a strange turn when I showed Sam a picture of her and me at a gallery opening. His jaw dropped and he exclaimed; "Son of a bitch! That's Mardi Dimanche. She's a client! Actually... that explains a lot now."
He went on to explain that he didn't really enjoy his times with "Mardi". Her sessions were very intense; geared toward pain rather than orgasm and, where most women would be screaming STOP PLEASE STOP, she would curse and swear like a sailor. Yep, that was definitely Kristel.
At that point we still hadn't decided what to do about her, so the conversation moved to my session. He asked if I wanted to continue now that I knew the rules and, through a mouthful of pasta, I instantly answered that I would—a little embarrassed by my all too apparent eagerness.
Knowing the rules made all the difference, changing the experience from one of fear and despair to one of pleasure and anticipation. The "out" word, "Philadelphia", when uttered in any way whatsoever, caused everything to stop. If a gag was present it was immediately removed so one could explain why the brakes had been applied. It could be a minor thing like a little discomfort with one of the binds or a cramp or it could be more serious. Maybe the set was a little too intense, the pain a bit more than one could bear. Regardless, it was engraved in stone; "Philadelphia" meant STOP.
There were a couple of other benefits to the out word. First; it was a word that Sam could easily make out through any kind of gag, whether whispered or screamed. Secondly; it allows the victim (Sam prefers "client") to scream stuff like "STOP, PLEASE STOP!" without the set actually halting. This lets her suspend reality for a time and experience the activity fantasizing that she was really under duress.
It still strikes me as ironic that, if I had known what "Philadelphia" meant, I would have stopped the session before it began and never realized what I was missing. And... I sure as hell wouldn't have been "branded"!
The word that I wish I had figured out though, was "Chicago". I'm an idiot really because Sam had said, after an intense orgasm, "Don't forget Chicago. It's better if I know." It seems so obvious now that the word is a signal to him that an orgasm is commencing. It gives him the chance to do things to intensify the event from its outset. It was hard to envision that particular climax as being any more exquisite but, as I found out later, he can prolong the gush by as much as a factor of two. Bless this man.
After lunch I had a refreshing little nap in my room. The accommodation was quite nice and well appointed with a large bed and a down filled comforter. When I awoke I took a shower and then we continued my session in the studio. No fake kidnapping scenario this time, just a couple of sets with interesting binds, the last of which resulted in yet another stupefying orgasm. The most memorable time for me however; came after supper.
We had retired, with a couple of after dinner drinks, to the front porch and admired the evening sunset, Rather than wear the robe to supper I thought it more appropriate to put my clothes back on although they felt oddly restrictive. I realized I would have liked to stay in the robe. In fact I would just as soon have been naked. It occurred to me that this spoke of the trust I had developed for this Sam Darquesied fellow. It was not that I thought I could trust him; I knew I could trust him. Almost perfect serenity is the only way I can describe the feeling that accompanies this kind of entrustment. The worries of the outside world just slide off, unable to stick to this shield of faith. It's like jumping off a building in complete confidence that Superman will catch you before you hit the ground.
I had also developed an almost overwhelming desire to please him. For the entire day he had worked very hard to bring me the most pleasurable time of my life. He took me to unimaginable highs then to the most delectable tranquilities—all without asking anything in return. I knew he had received a substantial amount of money for the session but, still, it didn't seem fair. I really wanted to correct this imbalance somehow.
It was a lovely evening and we just sat quietly for a time until I broke the silence and asked about "perfect slave".
Sam responded; "Well, it depends on the client's... that is... your desires of course but essentially it is you becoming a complete submissive within the boundaries of any parameters that we may set beforehand."
"How long does it last?" I asked.
"Again it differs for everybody but for most it's an hour or two. Longer for some and, for a couple, it's the whole session."
Sam, noting my obvious curiosity, continued; "The most popular and relatively short scenario is that I send you to your room to undress with the understanding that, when you return, you will be completely obedient to me and that any failure will result in punishment. And, normally, there is some sort of end goal."
"End goal?"
He elaborated; "I would instruct you to think up something that you will ostensibly refuse to do. It can be simple like 'I will not say the word banana' or it can be more intimate. As always, it's restricted by any parameters that you may have set before we start. But, the ultimate goal is to force you to relent and do, say, or submit to whatever you said you wouldn't."
Then he asked; "If you would you like to try it then we should set the restrictions now."
Suddenly this changed from idle conversation to impending reality and I immediately felt excitement and... I am such a slut... arousal!
"I can't think of any restrictions off hand. I... I have no experience so I don't know how much I can take..."
Sam stopped me right there; "Sylvia, you may have the wrong idea. I know this is all fairly new for you but you have to see that it's not a matter of how much you can take. There is no score card here. What I try to do is to take you to the edge—your edge. Not just the edge of pain tolerance; in fact, it's not about pain at all."
I could see that he felt it very important that I truly understand all this. He continued; "Most people, men and women alike, think of pain as the opposite of rapture. As you have recently discovered; that isn't necessarily the case. If all you wanted was to hurt yourself you could just go and bang your head against a wall. But, when you are bound in a manner in which you are immobile and experience pain in degrees—pain that does not cause injury—then it is like... a cable car."
"Yes... a cable car. Pain is your cable car; a cable car that collects your sense of pleasure and slowly transports it up the mountain. It is unimportant how high the mountain is for everybody else—the only thing that matters is... how high it is for you. The higher we go; the more your pleasure is magnified. The summit of your mountain is, of course, ecstasy. And; even the ride back down will be euphoric."
Sam looked straight at me and said; "Do you understand what I'm trying to say Sylvia?"
"Yes; I think so Sam."
I went on; "Sam, it's obvious that you are very experienced and awesomely good at what you do here. I trust you... I trust you unequivocally. I have no experience really and I don't know 'how high my mountain is' but I absolutely know that you will know it when you see it. I really want to do this... I really want to do this with you. So... can we just use the out word?"
Sam answered; "Yes of course. 'Philadelphia' always applies."
After a fairly long moment of silence he asked; "Would you like to start now?"
Sheepishly I whispered; "Yes."
Darquesied's tone changed to one of command as he said; "Very well then. Please put your drink down and stand, facing me."
I complied and he continued; "From now on you will address me as 'My Master'. You will always look down to the floor, never looking me in the eye unless instructed to do so. Any mistakes or failure to obey will result in increased punishment. Do you understand?"
"Yes." I respond.
Sternly Sam asks; "Yes what?"
"Yes, I underst... er... yes, My Master."
Sounding like a teacher admonishing his student; "It is mistakes like that which will not be tolerated. It is important that you completely appreciate this. Now; do you understand?"
"Yes, My Master."
He continued; "When I tell you to, you will go upstairs to your room and disrobe. You will fold your clothes neatly and place them on the chair. You will see leather bracelets and anklets hanging on the bedpost which you will put on so that they are comfortable but secure. You will then check yourself in the mirror to ensure that you are presentable. Then you will look in the top drawer of the bureau and choose one of the punishment devices it contains. During this time you will be thinking up something that you will refuse to do. You will then return and kneel in front of me with your eyes down and your arms extended offering me the device you chose. Remember, any errors result in more severe punishment. Is all of this perfectly clear?"
"Yes, My Master."
Sam commanded; "Then go now and do not take too long."
I turned and went inside and, when out of sight, I rushed up the stairs. I undressed quickly but then took my time folding my clothes realizing that there might be an inspection. And, of course, failure would result in more punishment so... I mussed them up a bit. I put on the bracelets and anklets so that they were quite tight but not uncomfortable. I was SO excited!
In my eagerness to look in the bureau drawer I almost forgot to check myself in the mirror. I fixed my hair a bit then took stock of my reflected nakedness. I smiled at how nice I looked with the leather around my wrist and ankles. I was glad to see my nipples hard and erect, hoping this would please "My Master". Looking down at my bikini cut pubic hair I wondered if Sam would like it better if I was completely smooth. I regretted that I didn't have the time to shave.
I then went to the bureau and slid the drawer open. Neatly arranged were several floggers and some other devices. I examined a rather vicious looking, two-tailed leather tawse but I put it back and thought; "Some day, maybe." Instead I chose the horse hair flogger that I had experienced earlier in the day. One last check in the mirror then a deep breath and I turned and went downstairs. My heart was already pounding.
As instructed I knelt in front of Sam with my eyes to the floor, my arms extended offering him the flogger. He took the whip from my hands then instructed me to sit back on my heels with my arms down by my side. I could feel him looking me over and was glad my nipples were still erect. Not only were they hard but they also tingled. I never before in my life thought I could be so excited by this kind of thing.
My musing was interrupted by Sam asking; "Do you have something to tell me?"
I wanted to tell him what I was feeling. That I was already aflame with anticipation and that he could do anything to me that he wanted. He could have me any way he wanted. But I knew what he was asking and I knew what I was going to say from the moment he mentioned it earlier.
"I will not allow you to have intercourse with me My Master."
He paused for a moment then asked; "Are you sure that is the end goal you want?"
"Absolutely sure My Master."
Sam continued; "Your only desire now is to please me as much as you can... is that correct?"
"Oh yes My Master."
"I would very much enjoy making love to you but you would deny me that pleasure. Do you realize that my only choice now is to punish you until you relent?"
"Yes My Master."
Darquesied reaches for my chin and gently moves my head up and directly to my left. Suddenly, while still seated, he smacks my breasts hard with the flogger, alternating one then the other maybe eight times or so. The first one made me jerk and gasp but I steeled myself and took the rest with little movement except for wincing. He then stopped and asked; "What do you say now?"
My breasts were on fire and, still wincing, I replied; "Uh... thank you My Master?"
"Good answer; but do you know why I just whipped you?"
I wasn't sure but I answered; "To make me relent My Master?"
"That is incorrect!" he said sternly and immediately started to whip again, as hard as before only this time he kept the flogger further back so that it struck just the areola and nipples.
"Ow... oww... owwww..."; The pain was unexpectedly severe and, try as I might, I could not keep from cringing, trying to pull away from the blows as best I could.
Again he asks; "Do you know why you are being punished?"
I was crying a bit now; "No My Master. I'm sorry but I don't know why."
"I am very disappointed in you my little slave. You say that your only desire is to please me yet you bring me the softest device in the drawer. Now I have to work much harder to reach the end goal. A truly cruel master would punish you all night for that mistake alone and you would deserve every lash wouldn't you?"
"Yes, My Master. I'm very sorry." I braced myself for more but instead he abruptly told me to stand and follow him inside to the living room. As I walked I could easily feel the moisture between my legs and my heart was pounding even harder.
In the middle of the floor was a small frame, about three feet high and four feet wide, which I immediately realized was made of two track hurdles fastened together face to face. The top rails were padded and there were rings at each corner with short black bungee cords attached. Darquesied motioned for me to bend over the frame resting my tummy on the padded rail. Standing at my head, he pulled my left arm down and attached the bungee to the bracelet then the same for my right arm. This caused my feet to leave the floor. He moved behind me and fastened my anklets in the same fashion. He had to pull quite hard to get the last one attached which tightened all the others. While the bungees provide a little bit of give, for the most part I was stretched quite inflexibly, bent over the bar and spread-eagled.
I was expecting a ball gag but received none. Instead, I saw Darquesied go to a cupboard and return with a large sliver hook with a loop at one end and a smooth, rounded tip at the other. It was about a foot long and looked like a giant fish hook but, thankfully, it was not barbed. I saw him rubbing a lubricant on the end as he went behind me.
My eyes widened and I gasped quite audibly as he slowly slid the smooth end of the hook into my anus. I have never before had anything in my ass that wasn't supposed to be there and the sensation was very strange but... my excitement level was increasing rapidly.
Sam again went to the cupboard, returning with a short length of rope. He grabbed my long hair and twisted it then fastened one end of the rope to the makeshift pony tail. He slid the other end through the loop in the silver hook and slowly tugged on the rope pulling my head up and back; almost as far as my neck muscles would allow. He then tied off the rope making it almost impossible to move my head. I could feel the hook dig into my rectum with even the slightest movement.
Now Sam spoke; "I have chosen to forego a gag this time but I expect you to avoid crying out to the best of your ability. Is that clear?"
The tightness of the restraints and my head pulled back like it was caused me to breath heavily, as though I was exercising, but with a little difficulty I answered; "Yes My Master."
He continued; "I am going to start with one hundred lashes and it is up to you to keep track. Once in a while I will ask if you relent. If you do then you will indicate so in a clear and respectful manner. It is possible that I may have lost interest so you may have to beg. Is all of this clear to you?"
"Yes My Master."
Immediately he started the whipping, very hard, on my butt. Sometimes staying on one cheek for several blows; sometimes alternating. I forced myself to keep from crying out. Just some "Ohs" and Uhs" were choking their way out with my short hard breaths. The pain was severe and I could not stop causing the hook to dig inside my ass. Everything got so intense so fast. The pain was relentless, both from the whip and the hook. I could feel and hear my heart pounding hard and rapidly and my breathing became frighteningly laboured.
"I don't hear you counting my little slave."
Shit! I forgot to count. How can he expect me to count when I can hardly breathe?
Darquesied stated flatly; "We'll have to start again."
Immediately the whipping continued; this time on the inside of my thighs just below my butt. He had changed the direction, whipping in an upward stroke, but the pain was no less severe. This time I counted out the strokes; which made my breathing even more difficult. Each stroke caused me to involuntarily jerk my head which in turn dug that hateful hook into my ass. It seemed to draw the pain from the whip up to my abdomen and mix with that in my rectum. He stopped at twenty lashes.
"Do you relent now my little slave?"
The pain was excruciating and the discomfort of the restraints, as well as that damn hook, was almost unbearable but I was determined to show Sam that I could take this. To stop now would make me... unworthy. So, with all the defiance I could muster I gasped out; "No, My Master, I do not relent."
I could hear him winding up the flogger behind me then, with all his strength, he landed one unbelievably hard upward blow right square on my outstretched vagina. It felt like I had been kicked in the crotch by a mule. My mind went blank. The pain was the size of a bowling ball and it rolled like a nuclear explosion up the inside of my abdomen and exited my mouth; "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh... MOTHER FU..."
"DO NOT FINISH THAT!" he admonished.
The pain subsided a bit and I forced myself to regain a semblance of composure. My breathing was very short, hard, and rapid but somehow I was able to get the words out; "I'm sorry My Master. I meant no disrespect."