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Chapter Four
The first time I chain and whip Delia, the extremes of the circumstances almost make her panic. But it’s a good scene. We’re in the cavern at Tethers inside a small subterranean alcove away from the rest of the activities.
I knew it shook her when I mentioned at work that we’d be going out for the evening. She had other plans which needed to be canceled, and I could see she was in a tailspin before she left the office that night. Her clamped dark hair was falling loose as though she were anxiously tearing it out of the tortoiseshell clip. There was a damp spot on the skirt of her dress, pussy juice saturating a quarter-size spot in a very embarrassing place—if she’d been aware that it was there. I was tempted to tell her, but she was already too undone to take more sexual input. Her impending evening was enough to unhinge her after what I’d already put her through that afternoon.
I invited her into my office where she sat in front of me, at first quite pertly—expectantly awaiting some order, and then quite disconcerted when I finally told her what I wanted her to do.
“So, do you masturbate now about the two of us?”
“All the time, Mr. Keller.”
“Then do it for me now. I want to see what you look like.”
She didn’t just hesitate; she totally balked for two uneasy minutes while trying to decide if I was really joking. And because I didn’t say another word, she finally understood that I was completely serious.
“Right here in the chair?” she blurted out.
“That’s just fine. Raise your skirt and let me see how your fingers move on your cunt.”
An inch at a time her skirt moved up her legs. I didn’t mind the slow process since her raw innocence was a seductive charm all its own. The flesh of her bare white thighs caused my crotch to jolt, and as she pulled her thong bikini aside to expose a blanket of jet-black hair. I had the urge to go to her with my hands and find what was inside that dark fur. I didn’t have to be that bold, however. She parted the sides of her pussy for me and found the center with a long middle finger, the shiny red nail disappearing inside for a while then returning to the surface as though it were coming up for air.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, though I made her open them, “I want you to remember I’m here.”
The reality made her blush, but she obeyed—a good sign for the future. I know this was a tough assignment. But apparently not too tough—she was obviously quite horny. Her hands worked her crotch, pulling labia, pinching her clit, fingers running down her thighs and back to the center again where those painted nails disappeared again and again. After five minutes she began rubbing herself in earnest, while several fingers continued to jab at her insides. With her eyes focused on me, my expression was grim—as relentless and unbending as she wanted it. Kept her from fleeing in fear. Her hands poured over her flesh, getting wet from precum, and then that slight black bush bucked high, ass off the chair altogether, as though she were reaching for something to draw inside the hole. Her gasp of pleasure was muted, and there was a little cry, then she slumped back down in the chair. Realizing that her eyes had closed while she climaxed, they popped open suddenly to stare at me.
It was then I knew we’d get serious. And I had no intention of waiting.
She’s come far quickly. I suggested she wear leather tonight—if she had anything, and it didn’t surprise me to find her dressed in a short leather skirt and halter when I picked her up at her apartment. The club almost makes her faint the moment she walks through the door. I give her an hour to adjust to the surroundings and feel her relax just as I decide to act. Her first scene will be one she’ll never forget. This will be hard on her, so much stimulation coming all in one day. But she can’t stand more waiting as much as that would please me.
The snap of leather on flesh resounds everywhere tonight. Fierce scenes are going on in all directions, even one Delia can see as she hangs for me in our more secluded retreat, her arms gracefully above her head, tethered with ropes to a hook a few inches from the wall. Her generous and now very naked body shines in the dim candlelight, the skin gleaming and flawless against the dank background of stone. She twists gracefully, waiting for me to use the whip in my hand. There are tears and fear in her eyes, and she grits her teeth breathing deeply so her chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm. Silver clamps dangle at her nipples, others cut the flesh of her labia. I watched her hold back her response to the pain as I turned the screws to tighten them to her flesh, and now see her silence become more difficult each time I slap her pussy.
“Turn around and press your face to the wall.”
As she obeys, I stand back with my buggy whip and wait until she eases again. Then with a quick flick of the flexible little instrument from hell, I snap it meanly on her buttocks and her body jolts. She gasps loudly.
When I repeat the strike, another slight scream of terror joins the others in this cavern of slaves and masters. The strikes come fast now—my arm and this extension of it feeling fused to what she gives back to me in terror and pleasure. The whip sizzles, her body jolts. Red lines begin to appear, one after the other on her fleshy buttocks, and then her thighs and on her milk white naked back. Everything in her shivers as she cries. I wait for her to stop me, her safe word suddenly screamed. But she can’t. For the all the ruthless energy I pour out on her, she loves it and wants more. Never have I seen an initiate so willing in a first session. Her response electrifies my body.
I stop with one last powerful stroke across her welted ass. Her feet dance wildly and her terrorizing cry stings my ears. I move to her side as her body stops its wild gyrations and her breathing calms. She twitches as the air around her tickles the roughed skin. When she feels my palm on her ass, she twists again, her empty pussy thrusting forward against the stone wall.
“Ride it, Delia.”
She answers pressing her cunt against the cold, looking for anything that will slip inside and send her orgasm over the top. I reach for the crack of her ass, and part her swollen cheeks.
“Oh, my noooo!” there’s another kind of agony in her voice as my fingers finds her anus and press against the unyielding opening.
“No anal sex?”
“No, sir. Never.”
“My, then, we’ll surely have to do something about that, won’t we?”
“Oh, please not that.”
“Such fear,” I mock her.
“But I can’t.”
Smack! My hand hits her ass. “A slave makes no excuses. And any master worth the title wouldn’t listen to a submissive beg for mercy. You’ll do as I say, or be punished. Is that clear?”
