tagBDSMThe Key

The Key

bytheMasterBaiter©

Preface:

I have mixed feelings about humiliation.

On the one hand, the absolute last thing I would want is to humiliate anyone, especially women; women suffer far to much humiliation in this world. My greatest hope and joy is the empowering of women, including my wife and daughters. A good look around shows us that when women have more power, violence and poverty are reduced. Men need good women to temper and augment their power. And women need good men, as accepting partners, as well.

On the other hand, I recognize that a great many women have what might be considered a strange reaction to humiliation; they are massively turned on by some forms of it. One has only to look at the number of lovelies who prance around after bad boys, players, and cads to see that sad truth. And in the Lifestyle, that is magnified. Many submissive women are more than willing to specify directly that they are looking to be "put in their place" and made to do things most would consider degrading.

On the gripping hand, every life may be improved by some level of humiliation, in the same way that what doesn't kill us can only make us stronger. My own life was probably saved by a very humiliating incident which allowed me to finally admit my place and give up the weight I was foolishly attempting to carry. We must all face humiliation, and lessons on how to do that well are therefore worthy.

This is a story about a love that starts with such a lesson. The story does not continue into the ongoing benefits of the lesson learned, but you may trust that the relationship which results is a positive one, for both of the participants, as may be expounded upon in upcoming missives from this author, depending on the strength of whatever reactions this story gleans.

Finally, I want to point out that although the story is written from the first person point of view, the man in this story bears no more resemblance to the author than is necessitated by the limits of my imagination. If the language of this introduction provides no clue, let me say this: Our subject is a bit stuck up, a proper man, although a quick learner and flexible. He is also an incurable romantic and completely obsessed with the books of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jane Eyre and others of the romance era; so much so that his speech is, at times, archaic.

And I, embarrassingly, have gotten somewhat stuck in that wording as a result of trying to write from his point of view. Our subject is not a hater of women, although his past gives reason to distrust the fairer sex. He is a bit traditional in that he assumes that women are better suited for some roles and men for others. He admires strong women, and those in positions of leadership, but he feels they must be rare and must have overcome elements of their basic nature to have attained power. In short, he is somewhat sexist, but in a manner which is most subtle and difficult to discern. This lesson helps him to grow as well, for he sees the power of submission and the strength it requires.

I must credit Mrs. Ember (Jaily) Flameman and YummyBomb with their assistance in editing and writing this piece. It would have been laughably inaccurate as to the female perspective without their help, and rife with spelling, tense, punctuation and grammatical errors. Any errors that remain were introduced by my final tweaking.

I do hope you enjoy it. Writers are sustained by feedback.

THE KEY

I was leaving the office about 8pm, having worked late on a proposal to help the community, which was not coming together well. In these hard economic times, empty buildings and broken homes had resulted in an increase in vandalism and graffiti. Now, with the opening of a nightclub a block away, our area was becoming increasingly unsafe at night. I began to fear that aside from the cost of replacing windows and painting over the taggers handiwork our business might be robbed or some violence done to our happy little group.

As I turned and walked into the last light of the evening, a voice floated to my ears from the alley between mine and the next building.

"Excuse me... Sir?"

It was the voice of a women, not shrill or rough, but soft and with a hint of panic and despair. Not a hooker nor a sales pitch, which could leave only two possibilities -- a damsel in distress or bait to a trap.

I shaded my eyes from the street lamp and looking deep into the alley. There I saw a lovely woman. She was standing just in front of the retaining wall which runs about waist high at the end of the alley. Although her face and body were not really visible, her clothes and her stance left a distinct impression of class, delicacy, and attention to detail.

I cleared my throat and called out "yes, hello... how can I help you?" as I turned and walked into the alley toward her.

She leaned forward slightly, her arms behind her back, her chin raised and hesitatingly said, "I... seem to be in a bit of a... predicament... which will require the assistance of a trustworthy person to resolve."

I could see more of her now, a lovely face

She continued, "I called out to you because you look... honorable and trustworthy. I dearly hope that I am not mistaken."

"Uh oh", I thought. "This sounds like something just out of a fairy tail."

Long years of bitter experience have taught me to distrust this sort of thing, and this was really starting to sound like a scam. I stopped and glanced to the sides, looking for a man or men hiding, waiting to rob me. Looking back at her, I could see a look of fear and almost panic pass over her striking face.

She pleaded, "Please don't stop, Oh God, don't leave. I really do need YOUR help, Sir."

Tilting my head to the side, I replied, "Yes, well... this requires a certain amount of trust on my part as well, doesn't it?"

She blanched and then, looking down, whispered "Ah... I hadn't thought of that... how embarrassing" then nodding her head she continued, "but I suppose you could see this as an attempt to maneuver you into a compromising position"

Suddenly she laughed; it had a bitter, almost gasping and ironic nervousness to it. She looked directly at me and said, "But our positions are a bit different, in that you can always walk away, whereas I..."

At that point she moved slightly to the side allowing me to see that her hands were handcuffed to the wrought iron railing just beyond the top of the retaining wall. My eyes widened in amazement, and I exclaimed, "Well! I see what you mean about finding yourself in a predicament. How on earth did you end up handcuffed? Are you in trouble with the police?"

She laughed bitterly "No, not the police... my ex husband. The courts just awarded me the house and a portion of his business in our divorce. It was unexpected and he didn't... take it well"

"Ahhh... he is the vindictive sort?" I said, looking around and behind me again.

She bit her lower lip and replied, "Apparently... Although he really has no cause to be, considering that he cheated on me, repeatedly. He even made a pass at my sister. You have nothing to worry about" She said, noticing my concerned glances "as he will be well occupied for the night with the tramp who accompanied him when he locked me up here."

I nodded, then said, "I will call for a locksmith and get you released quickly."

A look of panic passed over her face. "Please Sir! Thank you, but the idea of anyone other than a gentleman of your stature seeing me like this... I would be so afraid that it might be reported to the press."

"The press?" I asked, obviously confused.

"Oh..." she smiled with a little pout, "you don't recognize me..."

"No, I am afraid I do not..." I replied, trying to place her face against the media images that I desperately try to ignore.

She smiled softly, "I am your city council women, a respected member of the community and the mother of 3 fine young men."

Recognition dawned.... and along with it, an understanding of the delicacy of the situation. No matter how little she had done to deserve this treatment, the fact that it had happened at all, and her ex husband's apparent motivation... It would be a major blow to her standing.

If it became public.

"Now you see why I must hope that you are an honorable and trustworthy person" she said, as she looked up at me sadly. Her face softened and her chin dropped a bit as she ended her sentence with the whispered word... "Sir."

"Very well then, no one else shall know. I have a hacksaw at home, a few blocks away..." I had started to suggest, only to be interrupted.

"Oh, please, no! Please, Sir, do not think again of leaving me here alone?" she begged and then, flushed and with a quivering voice she admitted, "I have the key..."

"Ahhh! Excellent!" I said "Of course! I'll just unlock them then, where is the key?"

A strange, bitter and twisted smile passed her flushed cheeks. "Well Sir, that is the tricky part... the key is... " she was breathing rapidly, and I am sorry to say that I was momentarily distracted by the sight of her chest rising and falling.

Then she blurted out, "the key is... inside me."

My eyes snapped back up to hers, and I stared for several seconds before what she had said could sink in. "um... Inside you?" I dumbly repeated.

"yes Sir" she shook, completely crestfallen and appeared to be on the edge of tears. "My ex is a respected gynecologist, and had been my OB/GYN for many, many years. Even after our marriage failed, and I filed for divorce, we maintained a professional relationship as patient and doctor. I trusted no one else with myself. He had been the only man..."

She cried, quietly and with a dignity not often seen. As tears flowed from her bright eyes and down her lovely cheeks, the thought passed the back of my mind -- even if this was a trap -- I was lost. Nothing destroys a man like the site of a spirited, lovely woman -- sobbing. I was so moved but could do little other than first offer her a handkerchief... then, realizing she could not take it, I hesitated, and finally dabbed her cheek, saying "there there" in the most ineffective manner imaginable.

She recovered, smiled a rueful little smile and continued "Thank you. I went to his office today for a regular appointment. Things have been strained since the divorce, but I thought he was dealing with it. He started the exam, removed my diaphragm, which he had recommended after our separation, and then later he put the diaphragm back. I had no idea, at that time, that he had placed the key on top of it. Afterwards he offered me a drink and said he wanted to talk about the settlement. I accepted, trying to be polite. Apparently the court papers had been delivered to his office earlier."

I listened quietly as she continued her account.

"My lawyer had advised that I try for everything I could possibly be awarded, but said it was unlikely that the judge would award me very much considering that my salary is actually more than my ex's. Apparently the judge didn't see it that way. I was awarded the house, the boat, the children, and both child and spousal support. The pictures I had of him cheating on me combined with the testimony of my family and his ex-lovers may have influenced her."

She laughed a bitter, heartfelt laugh at that point which ended in a gasping sob as she continued, "He was enraged. I've never seen him like that. The things he said about female judges are not repeatable. He forced me out the back door of his office and into his car."

The memory of her fear was clearly etched over her lovely features.

"I was stunned!" She continued, "I've NEVER seen him like that. He's never been violent or angry in the slightest, as long as I've known him. He always said he is a lover not a fighter." she grinned sardonically.

"I just went along with him, expecting that he would calm down in time. He drove us here, into the inner city, then pushed me down this ally and before I knew it, handcuffed me to this railing. His little trollop showed up then and laughed at me, while she kissed him and groped him... and he was, of course, all over her. He said she was my 'replacement' and went on about how much better she was in bed." A bitter, sad look passed her face as she looked away to the side.

After a moment, she looked back up at me and continued, haltingly, "And then he explained that the key... He had placed the key on top of my diaphragm... I could actually... feel it... scraping. At first, anyway..." Her head fell down as she blushed deeply. "So that key will have to be... retrieved... by someone whose hands are free to do so... " She said with a nervous laugh

She looked at me, searching my face, and said, "He said something about depending on the kindness of someone from the city other than a... women judge... and now I am... I need you to... put your fingers... " Her voice trailed off.

I nodded, "I wish I could see another way of doing this, but... I'm willing to help... Um... I guess we will need some sort of lubrication... do you have a moisturizer or lotion in your purse?"

As I said this, another look of panic and terror passed over her features and she started shaking again, but then firmed up and looked directly at me. "Well, you will know soon enough. All this time that I've been here, waiting for someone suitable to come... I've known what was going to happen... what would need to be done to free me... And the most horrible thing about it is..." She shuddered and turned beet red. She gasped for air and continued, "The truth is... well..." A crooked little smile teased at the corner of her face, "Let's just say lubrication isn't going to be a problem."

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, I smiled, or almost smirked, despite myself. "oh... I see"

The shame now evident on her face was... well... the best word I can find is powerful. I felt sorry for her, I wanted to ease her pain, but I was also... more than a little intrigued. Here was a powerful woman. A leader. Lovely, but strong. And she was being humbled in a way few of us ever experience, but along with the anger and bitterness that one would expect She was also turned on. Wet. Horny. And without knowing why, I felt a rush of power and desire unlike anything I had previously experienced.

Looking back on the event, I recognize that I would never have felt that power or desire had she been simply a helpless victim. Without her deep if unexpected and somewhat unwilling enjoyment of the situation, I could not have reacted as I did.

As it was, my life, from that day forward, would never be the same.

I moved almost without direction. My hand came up to cup her chin and raise her face to me. As she looked into my eyes, with fear, shame, and... passion reflected in her eyes, I simply nodded and then reached down to pull up the hem of her dress. I stood close to her, and she leaned into me, turning her head to rest on my chest and shoulder while she lifted one leg, spreading herself, and giving me access to her most private depth.

I felt her rapid breathing, as her breasts pressed into my chest, then her gasping as my hand made contact with her thigh, then panties. Her panties were soaked clear through. She wasn't kidding... She couldn't have gotten this wet in the short time we had been talking. I realized that she had been horny from the moment she understood what she was going to have to do, what would be done to her. She must have known she was going to have to ask a random stranger to basically finger fuck her, and the thought had turned her on.

I pulled the material to the side, and felt along her lips. She was fully engorged; her pussy lips open and proud. How singular a reaction, I thought... She must have been terribly excited from the very point of realizing what was going to happen. Just thinking about what must have gone through her mind, the struggle she must have experienced between her own passions, made my head spin. And to have had the strength to resolve to do as she had done truly amazed me.

"Ready?" I asked. She nodded quickly, then held her breath. I gently pushed my finger inside her, easily penetrating her. She suddenly pressed her head down harder against my chest, prompting me to stop and ask "Are you ok?" Her answer started as a whimper which she quickly turned into a "yes, just do it! Please!... Sir, please...." I nodded and pushed deeper, wiggling my finger to try to feel for anything other than the warm, soft wet inside of a woman. She whimpered without finding a way to cover it up. "I'm not finding anything..." I said. She gasped out that I would need to go farther, but at that point, my palm was pressing almost against her outer lips. I tried, but when I pushed up against her, I could feel no farther, and her whimper sounded a bit like a moan. "I'm going to have to use my other fingers to get in farther" I said. "Oh my good freaking god!" she mewled with a breathless air "please, Sir, please, I'm not sure I can... please hurry, my good Sir" A little smile played over my face as I considered her dilemma, and suddenly I had a thought. This situation could end with her free, humiliated, and very sexually frustrated... or...

I pulled my finger out, purposely pressing it against the inside of her, running it down the very sensitive area behind the clit. Her squeal was delicious, and she did not otherwise object. I formed my fingers together into the smallest possible space and started up into her again, but before I entered, I found her opening by starting from the top and going down, flicking over her clit in the process. she jumped, shuddered, and moaned deeply but said nothing. As my fingers penetrated her again, spreading her more widely this time, I spoke softly into her hair. "It has come to me... that this can end one of two ways... I may find and retrieve this key, release you, and you will go your way. Free, humiliated, and very... ah... bothered, shall we say? Or, if you wish, I could spend a bit more time... searching, still finding the key, eventually, and you will go your way, free, humiliated, but rather more... satisfied." A moan of despair with a massive undercurrent of need was my only answer.

I wasn't going to allow it to be that easy. I brushed my lips against her ear, "No, this is your choice. I'll not force myself on you. Unless you specifically ask for... release..." "YES!" she almost shouted. "Yes, please, Sir.. oh god, how could I be such a slut... Yes, make me cum, I beg you, Sir" I smiled widely, pleased that I had guessed correctly. Holding her gently, I said "Now, there, 'slut' is just a mean word for a wonderful and responsive women, try to let go and enjoy yourself. On my word, I will never tell another living soul what happens here."

I thrust my hand up into her -- in and out, deeper and deeper. moving my thumb to brush against her clit. I had never before heard such a lovely series of moans, mewels, whimpers and panting curses. She had quite a vocabulary, it turned out, with all the naughty words that ladies just don't say, and she was spilling them all out. I grasped her leg with my free arm and laid it up along the top of the retaining wall, then held her close as I started to ram my fingers into her, harder and harder. I could feel her stiff nipples rubbing against my chest through both my shirt and her thin sweater top. Her increasing arousal gave me permission to do whatever I wanted to his lovely creature. I pushed her back against the wall and pinched her right and then her left nipple; harder and harder until she cried out.

Her face was a picture; a masterpiece. I touched her cheek then pulled her back to me. While her form bounced lightly up and down over my fingers her nipples became harder and her cries into my chest became sharper.

Suddenly, she stiffened, then a strangled cry escaped her mouth as her head snapped up and she froze, vibrating in place. I could feel her clamping down on my fingers, and I pressed in, holding her clit between my thumb on the outside and my fingers inside. Long seconds passed without any change... no breathing... no motion other than that rythmic clamping and her entire body vibrating. I suddenly realized that I was feeling wetness over my lower arm and down on my waist.

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bytheMasterBaiter© 7 comments/ 32511 views/ 6 favorites

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