Blood Red Stripes

Our relationship was fine until I saw him eat someone. That does tend to put a damper on things.

I was...well, still am...his Domme, and he is still my boy. It's just a little confusing.

The first time I met Dominic was at a Leather Forever convention, a group I had been a member of for many years. That particular weekend, I had gone to the slave auction on a whim, hoping against hope to find someone there who would entertain me, if only for a little while. It was very, very crowded as was usual because it was the first "official" event of the weekend. Finding a seat proved difficult, and I had to settle for one in the very back of the room. The moment I saw him, I knew I had to have him. You know the feeling. Gracefully--much too gracefully for a man--he walked up onto the stage, dressed in tight, faded jeans and a leather vest. Nothing else. Not even any shoes. He skirted the Emcee's hand and strode into the spotlight, then placing his hands behind his neck; he arched his chest out and took a wide stance. His cock was outlined under his jeans, and he was hard and hung, let me tell you. Black hair, a little long, was in his eyes, and I was too far away to tell what color they were. He grinned, and his perfect white teeth shined in the lights. Well, needless to say, I got wet just looking at him and squirmed just a bit in the uncomfortable plastic chair I was sitting in. So the bidding started, the Emcee teasing and taunting the crowd into frenzy over this unknown man, and the bidding was fierce.

But you see, I had already decided I had to have him. There was just something...off... about him.

The money that is used for the auction is Monopoly money, and everyone gets a certain amount when they check in the hotel. In order to earn more, you had to perform stupid stunts, like flashing the bartender your tits. That had never set well with me as I am not a "stupid stunt performing" kind of gal, but I was so enthralled with this man, I bribed/cajoled/threatened all my friends for their money.

And then went and flashed the bartender my amble breasts.

I was a little insulted as the man merely winked at me and then went back to his job, flipping bottles and filling glasses. Some men just do not appreciate perfection. Or perhaps he was just so used to seeing us perverts year after year, nothing fazed him anymore.

$100,000.00 dollars of play money was the price for a night with this submissive man. The bidding finally ended up between me and a couple I knew well, both Tops, both hard core Dominants. "Uber Dom" stood across the room from me, staring daggers at me while his lovely wife screamed and railed, her frilly black tutu riding further and further up as she jumped around. I merely smiled, and upped the bid.

I could relate the back and forth of the bidding, but other than the crowd roaring us on, and the woman calling me a few unpleasant names, it was all standard fare. Ten dollars was all that separated our bids. I had just ten more dollars than they, and no one would give them anymore. The bartender deal had paid off.

$100,000.00. He had better be worth it.

I walked up onto the stage, and he winked at me and grinned wider.

"Never look me in the eyes unless I tell you to." I declared, harshly. He had no collar, so I fetched one of my own out of my toy bag, and wrapped it around his neck. Placing the lock in place, I leaned close and whispered in his oh-so-perfect ear, "Do I need to teach you manners, boy?"

"No..."

"Ma'am will do for now."

"No, Ma'am." You could hear the capital "M" in his voice. He was staring intently at my shoes.

"Look at me."

He looked me in the eyes...green eyes...like the finest cut emeralds. Gazed locked, I just knew I had him. No one can look a vampire in the eyes without being completely mesmerized.

But--his gaze shifted back down to my shoes. He should never have been able to do that.

Shocked, I took a step back.

"Ma'am...is everything OK?" he asked, his baritone voice raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

"Yes." Attaching my leash to his collar, I pulled hard, my mind reeling with possibilities. What was he? He wasn't human. What in the hell did I purchase? I owed at least four people big favors--one of which included shaving my friend's boy's balls with a straight razor--for the money they had "loaned" me. "On all fours, boy. Keep at my heels."

Again, gracefully getting on all fours, he came down the stairs. Now, it is very hard to look graceful when going down stairs. I know. How many times had my Master made me go up and down the stairs, practicing, so many years ago? You usually look like you're going to tumble over at any time. But he...he glided...slid...I don't know. All the same, he looked like liquid muscle flowing down those unstable stairs. Walking through the crowd, I heard mumbling, several people unhappy I had won the bid. The couple that had fought so hard for him sneered and whispered in my direction. Oh, well. They'd get over it. Besides, I wanted to...test...this boy; needless to say, I was curious.

"We're going to the dungeons, boy."

"Yes, Ma'am." came the deep reply. Glancing down, I saw he was staring up at me.

OK, rules are rules. Whipping out my English cane, I laid one crisp stripe across his ass. Yes, he wouldn't feel too much through the jeans, but I had to prove a point. "Disobey me again, and I'll give you Six of the Best, boy."

He had never even flinched when the cane came down. Interesting. I pulled him along, answering calls of congratulations from various friends. We went down several hallways and one flight of stairs into the largest ballroom I had personally ever been in. Oh, it was decorated the same every year--partitions had been set up and fabric hung strategically to provide a sense of privacy--even though more often than not, you could be seen from most anywhere by anyone. A section for light, sensual play, a section for heavy, a section for suspension, a small room for blood and medical play, and oh, ye Gods, even a section for age players...complete with coloring books and stuffed animals. I wasn't interested in any of this, even thought the smell from the blood play area was sharp and inviting. I would certainly visit that particular area before the evening was over, but for now...I was in the mood for something more...internal.

Leading him through the gathering crowd, I finally found an empty sling in the back corner of one of the empty smaller rooms. The sling, a leather hammock suspended by steel rods, looked very, very inviting. "OK, boy. Get up, and we are going to dispose of the clothes." He stretched up and was on his feet in a flash.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Didn't you hear me?"

"You, Ma'am...shall I undress, or will you undress me?"

Well, well...the boy did have some manners. "I'll undress you." Bending over, my little black dress riding high on my thighs, I took a buck knife out of my bag. Waving it in front of his face, a slight smile on my lips, I said, "Now, don't you move. Wouldn't want to cut you." Yeah. Right. He looked startled at the sight of the blade. "What? I can't cut your clothes off, boy?"

"It's...it's fine, Ma'am." he whispered.

The knife slid into the waistband of his jeans and ripped it apart. Oh, my...no underwear. Sliding down further, I cut down his outer thigh, causing him to tremble and wince, but he wasn't saying anything. Odd. Most people object loudly to my cutting their clothes. Object loudly and then stomp off to find someone else to play with. Finally, I worked my way down to the hem of his jeans. "Now, the other side." Again, working from the waistband, I slowly slid the knife through the fabric. The front flap fell open, and out came a good sized uncut cock, thick and long with a heavy ball sack. I began drooling at the very thought of it. Leaning over, I gave the shaft a small kiss...he jumped. Grinning up at the boy, I asked, "Like that?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am!" he sighed, his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

"Don't expect any more." I finished ripping the now-nothing-but-rags jeans off him. "Just take the vest off." He slid it down his muscular arms...where did such a perfect specimen come from? Nobody was this perfect! "Get on the sling." Sliding onto the sling and laying back, his cock and balls were completely exposed to me. I lifted his left leg, tying it to the suspension rod, and then the right one. Running my nails down the length of his thigh, over his abdomen, up his chest, and down one arm, I grabbed his wrist, and tied it to another bar. I repeated the action with the other wrist. My nails had left very few marks on him as they are notoriously short--if I wanted to mark him, I had better toys for that than my nails. "Now it looks like my boy is going nowhere. What is your safe word?"

"Pack."

"Pack???" It was definitely odd, but not the strangest I'd ever heard. Most people used the standard "Red", "Yellow", and "Green", and I used an unusual one when I played with newbies--I gave them the safe word, "Rumplestiltskin." Hard for them to forget that one. The oddest safe word I had ever heard was "Mulder, Help Me!"

"Yes, Ma'am. Pack." That brought me back from my memories of X-Files Freaks. "OK, little boy, I have one desire right now. To fist you."

He shook, and pulled at his bonds. "No, Ma'am...I can't do that. Anything else but that."

"So call your safe word."

Silence.

"I take your silence for agreement. And as much money as I shelled out for your pretty ass, you are going to do exactly what I ask." Pulling off my rings, and putting on hateful, but necessary medical exam gloves, I dug through the bag for lube. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his cock jumping, just a bit. Hmmm...even more interesting. Perhaps the boy protests too much. Unfortunately, that made my cunt just drip, and when I get too excited, my fangs tend to show, so I ducked quickly down.

"Ready?"

I turned the bottle up, and clear lube dripped down my fingers. Not that I could feel it, damned gloves.

"Answer me, my pet...are you ready?" I whispered.

"I suppose so, Ma'am." He blandly answered, eyes closed.

OK. The bitch in me decided right then and there he was going to respond to me with more enthusiasm. I drove one finger deep into his ass, and he gasped, eyes flying open, body jerking as much as the ropes would allow.

Much better. "Tell me your name, boy."

He looked at me and nodded toward the name tag around his neck, the same as we all wore. It read "Sharp Eyes". Again, very, very different, but...I'd known members named everything from "Bob S." to "Fuckable Poodle Girl".

"No, no, my dear. My Scene name is The Duchess, but I want your real name." Another finger joined the first. God, he was hot and tight. His eyes widened, and he looked cautious. Yes, I was playing against the rules.

"Will you tell me yours?" He whispered roughly.

"It's 'Ma'am'." A third finger. "Now tell me."

His body was jerking rhythmically against the ropes, his eyes squeezed shut. "It's Dominic."