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The ContractIt is next month, but soon it will be next week, and then tomorrow and then today. The ceremony will be private and small, just the two of us. The room will be rented, and I don't have to worry about buying a dress. I don't have to worry about anything at all . . . no gifts, no cards, no announcements, no thank you notes.
All I have to do is make sure my hair is clean, my skin is soft and smooth and my pussy is shaved.
And when it's over, the only thing I will have done is signed my name to a contract. A slave contract.
The ceremony will be private because my acceptance of the contract has certain requirements. The room will be rented because it requires special equipment: a cross I can be bound to, for instance. Perhaps a whipping bench or hooks in the ceiling from which I can hang by my wrists, my ankles bound to distant shackles in the floor or on the walls.
I don't have to worry about buying a dress because my only clothing will be restraints, rope and, if I am lucky, a collar. Perhaps a blindfold will add a festive touch. I doubt there will be a gag, since Master likes to hear me moan.
Of course, gifts will be exchanged; they just don't have to be purchased. I will give myself to my Master, and he will give me the gift of caring and attention. He will also give me the gift of one lash for each of the parts of the contract, 65 in all. When the ceremony is over, I will be marked with his love for me.
I can just imagine how it will go . . .
He looks over at me, waiting for a moment until he has my complete attention.
"Call and rent the room," he says. "Make it for Thursday at noon. Take it for three hours." My heart races. I have been waiting months for this moment, and my patience is finally being answered.
I make the call, identifying myself as a slave, and ask for the room for myself and my Master. There is no problem, and all is easily set. He doesn't have to tell me more; I will make sure we have enough money, and that I am prepared in a way which will please him.
He says nothing more until the day before. He tells me to wear what I wish, to be comfortable, and to remember that my clothing should not be too restrictive. I swallow, and try to think about how I will feel after 65 lashes. Our new safe word runs through my head. I will not use it. Master will not give me more than I can handle.
The day finally comes, and we take the train into the city. Master sits next to me, but asks nothing of me, allowing me to drift in my own head. I look at him often, drawing strength from his calmness. Every once in a while he smiles at me, making my heart sing. I can feel love radiating from him.
We arrive and take the subway to our destination. As we approach the building, I feel lightheaded and struggle to stay in the moment. We enter, and all is cool and dark. Master approaches the desk and makes whatever last-minute arrangements are necessary.
From nowhere, a male slave, dressed in a maid's uniform, high heels and a mask, appears at Master's side. I turn to follow, but one of the Mistresses places her hand on my arm to stop me. I look at Master with a question, but he smiles and raises his hand, which tells me to be patient and do what I am told. He follows the slave down a hallway, and I turn to the Mistress.
"While your Master gets settled, he's asked us to look after you," she says, turning and motioning to the two other Mistresses behind her. "Come." She never lets go of my arm, just turns me in the direction away from my Master, and starts walking. I follow her, since I have no choice, and the other Mistresses come with us. I don't want to be separated from my Master. I don't know where I am going and I am confused and frightened.
The Mistress who is holding my arm opens a door, and we walk into a large bathroom, with a deep tub, a shower and, in the middle of the room, what looks like an examination table made of chrome. The other Mistresses follow us into the room, and stand around me. One of them reaches out and grabs my hair, holding it tight. The others quickly remove my clothes, and suddenly I am standing there, naked and shivering. The one holding my hair leans toward me.
"Get on the table," she orders. I hesitate, and all three of them move at once, placing me on the table on my back. One of them raises my arms over my head and cuffs my wrists to something; the others are spreading my legs wide and attaching my ankles to pipes that are far apart. I am helpless and wide open. The lights are dimmed, and they surround me. One reaches out and pinches my nipples, making them hard and making me squirm. She squeezes my breasts, pulling and twisting them.
Another hand is rubbing on the inside of my thigh, while still another is squeezing my ass. I am consumed with sensation. Fingers are everywhere. Now it feels like two hands, maybe four, rubbing my pussy, pushing into me, twisting into my ass. A mouth leans over mine and kisses me deeply. I respond to everything and wish I could grab. My hands make fists in frustration.
The attention to my breasts stops, and I feel a blindfold covering my eyes. I turn my head, but not even a glimmer of light gets through. Suddenly there is a new sensation. Something warm and wet is snaking up the inside of my thigh. It moves higher, and I realize it is a tongue as it reaches my clit and flicks back and forth, teasing me, making me arch into the air, reaching for more. It plays with me, maddeningly, still teasing.
I feel more warmth, and the table shifts slightly as one of the Mistresses climbs up. She must be straddling my chest, and I feel her weight as she brings her pussy down on my mouth. I immediately lick her, and taste the salty wetness, swirling my tongue around her pussy and making it my own.
Fingers have now joined the tongue in my body, and I feel an orgasm building. I am powerless to the sensations setting me on fire. My tongue dips into the pussy above me, I stretch my thighs wider, I can't stand it any longer. And then everything stops. I moan in frustration as the Mistress climbs off the table, and my head whips back and forth. What has happened?
I feel a warm, wet towel on my body, wiping off my juices and sweat. A Mistress removes my blindfold, and I feel my wrists being released.
"Now you're properly ready for your Master," she says, smiling. "Come, we'll take you to him." They help me get dressed, and walk me to the room where my Master waits.
I open the door and relax as I see my Master. I don't know what the room looks like or what is in it. There is just Master. I kneel before him, bowing my head and waiting for his instructions. My body is on fire with fear, with longing, with excitement.
"Present yourself to me," he says. I stand and remove all my clothing, folding it neatly and placing it on a chair by the door. I walk to my Master, and kneel at his feet.
He reaches down and lifts up my chin so I am looking into his eyes. "This is your last chance to change your mind," he says. I shake my head no. "I am here freely," I say. "I want this more than anything." I feel as though I should have said something more profound, but my brain has stopped working and I cannot think. I have placed all my trust in Master; at this moment I am completely unable to care for myself.
He pulls me up so I am standing in front of him, and grabs my hair with one hand and my throat with another. He kisses me deeply, and I start the slow slide into another world. Every piece of me, every hair, every pore, is attuned to him. The slightest touch of his hand sends me into a frenzy of desire. My pussy is still dripping, my nipples are hard and I am panting.
"Suck my cock," he says, and I reach up and unzip his pants, pulling them down and kneeling again, taking his cock into my mouth and running my tongue along its length. He grabs my hair again and holds me while I suck, slowly, feeling my own power as he becomes hard in my mouth. I reach up to grab his ass, and he pulls away.
"Stand up," he demands. I do, and he turns me away from him and pushes me across the room until I am standing in front of a large wooden X.
"Will this work?" he asks aloud, and I think he is joking with me. "No, this won't do," he answers himself, and moves me again, until I am standing in front of a waist-high bench, with a bar across the top for my arms.
"Yes," he says, "this will work. You have to be able to read the rules." I swallow again, and nod. He reaches and brushes stray hairs from around my face, bending to kiss me again. I am enveloped in his love. His power surrounds me, creating an electric force I am helpless to escape.
He takes my left wrist, and leans me forward until he can buckle it to the bar. I move closer to the bench and grab with the right hand, looking for balance. He cuffs my other wrist to the bar, then bends down and binds my ankles. I am stretched tight, and must bend far at the waist to feel relaxed. The bench is comfortable, and holds my ass out, inviting.
He steps behind me, and slaps me, then rubs the insides of my thighs, making me squirm with need. He leans close to my ear and whispers, "Perfect." I am melting.
Quickly he moves away and finds a tall table on which he places the rules. I can see them if I bend my head down. I suddenly realize I will have to be aware of where I am, what I am reading, and what I am agreeing to. I will not be able to float away in the pain and pleasure of the moment. I will not be allowed the privacy of a blindfold. A chill of fear runs through me and I stiffen.
Master doesn't acknowledge my fear; he is walking around the room, teasing me, looking for the proper implement. He picks up a heavy flogger and swings it before shaking his head and putting it back on its hook. He tests a long, flat paddle on his thigh before also rejecting that. I watch as he scans the walls, and can see him finally stop.
A whistle breaks the silence as he slashes the air with a black leather crop. Smiling, he taps the leather end in his palm.
He walks back to me, and stands where I can clearly see him. He rests the crop over my forearms, balanced, and reaches down to remove his shoes. He takes off his shirt, and I run my eyes over his shoulders, my favorite part of his body. His arms are strong, and I know they will not tire today.
"My pet," he says. "I will give you a choice." I raise my head and look into his eyes. "We can do this two different ways. It's up to you." I wait for him to explain. "You can read the rules one at a time and tell me if you agree to be bound by each rule as you read it. Then you get this," he pauses, and quickly picks up the crop, bringing it down across my ass before I have a chance to prepare. I gasp with the sharp pain, but remember to thank him.
"Or," he continues as if nothing had happened, "you can read them all at once and agree to them in total. And then you can count out loud."
I can't decide. I don't want to decide. My brain is racing with nothing in it. He owns me. He knows which way is best. Why is he asking me to make a decision? I am taking too long and I know he is becoming impatient.
"Master, please," I start, and he raises a hand.
"I will not decide," he says firmly.
I take a breath. "I will read them all at once," I say, hoping I will be better able to fall into the pain if it happens quickly. He nods his head and places the crop back across my arms. I take a deep breath, bend my head, and start to read.
"One," I say. "I shall never . . ." as I read, I realize Master has gone to stand behind me, and is leaning against my body. He reaches around me and takes my breasts in his hands, squeezing my nipples and making me gasp. I stop reading and he immediately removes his hands. Slowly gaining control of myself, I begin again, and continue reading.
He runs his hands down my back, scratching lightly. His fingers smooth over the curve of my ass, and gently tease the insides of my thighs. Concentrating is incredibly difficult, and I struggle to keep my place.
"Fifteen," I read. "I have no will . . . " His fingers reach my pussy, and he slowly rubs my clit. I feel him lean further over my back, and whisper, "Do not cum." I shudder with frustration and need. He keeps teasing me, listening to me struggle with the words. His fingers continue their exploration, and two of them dip inside me. I moan aloud, and he stops.
Catching my breath again, my body screaming in frustration, I continue to read. Master keeps pulling his fingers in and out of me, and I realize that he has somehow removed the rest of his clothing and is naked behind me.
"Thirty-two," I say, "My place is before . . ." I try not to gasp as he pushes a firm finger into my ass, and pulls it out again before pushing in two fingers. His other hand is still working in my pussy, and he is talking to me as I read. "Don't you dare cum. You have no idea what will happen if you lose control."
My mind is whirling. My body needs to orgasm so badly it's starting to hurt. "Forty-five. I must always respond . . ." I don't know how I am going to go on. Master is rubbing his body on mine, his cock teasing along the backs of my legs. I push myself backward as far as I can, stretching against my bindings. "Fifty-six. I shall learn to endure . . ."
I cannot endure this. My heart is pounding, racing in my chest as Master speeds up the motion of his fingers. His body's weight is on mine, and he is nibbling at my neck, running his tongue up and down my shoulder. I cannot breathe.
Finally, I realize I am reading the last rule. "Sixty-five. My life is empty . . . " I read through the longest rule and finish with a sigh and close my eyes. Will Master let me cum now? But no, he stops. I can't help myself. I start to cry.
"My pet," he says. "You want to cum, don't you?" I turn as far as I can to look at him. "But this isn't about you, is it?" I hang my head in shame. "This is about me. This is about your willingness to become mine. Mine." He pauses. "This is your last chance. Are you willing?"
I lift my head and start to say yes, but he is already behind me. I hear the whistle of the crop as he lands the first blow on my ass. God, it stings! Master rapidly lands blows, one after the other. I am so far gone in pain, I can barely count. I pray that he takes a break, or moves to another spot. It's hard to remember how many times the crop has fallen, and I am gasping by the time I count to 25.
He pauses and I can hear him panting. Who has the harder job? The next blows don't fall on my ass, but along the insides of my thighs. There is another 10, then 15. I feel the crop start to creep back up, and my ass jiggles with the force of another set of particularly hard snaps. The crop continues to move upward toward my back.
I reach 50, and realize that I am now his, totally, and he can mark me anywhere and in any way he wishes. Master's aim is now across my back, my shoulders. The tip of the crop snaps itself around my sides, flicking at the swelling of my breasts. I am on fire with agony. The burning, pulsing, redness of pain makes me want to run away, to hug myself, to do anything, promise anything, to make it go away.
I could finally to 61, and then it's impossible but I am finished. I hear Master drop the crop on the floor, and stand behind me, breathing hard. Behind my closed eyes the redness starts to fade back to black, and my fists turn back to hands, unclenching slowly.
I hear Master walk away, and rummage through his bag. He walks back to me, and stands off to my side.
"Good girl," he says, leaning close to my ear. "Very good girl." I open my eyes and look at him. He is drenched in sweat. In his left hand he is holding a black leather collar with a heavy buckle, small silver studs and a sturdy D-ring in the front.
"You know you have always been mine," he says, reaching out and buckling the collar around my neck. "This is just a formality." The collar feels stiff, and tight. I stretch my neck against it, turning my head to get used to its weight. Master watches me. He does not smile.
He moves away again behind me, and bends to unbind my ankles. Oh! He is finally letting me loose. But instead of releasing me, he pulls my ankles out farther, stretching me and binding me tighter. My arms are no longer taking my weight, but are pulled to their limits. Before I can react, he reaches for a rope hanging over me, and loops it through the ring of the collar, pulling it tight.
I am completely bound, unable to move at all. I don't like this feeling, this total helplessness. I feel suspended. Master moves behind me, rubbing my back and my ass. I feel his hands push between my legs, spreading the lips of my pussy apart as he rubs his fingers against me.
"Still dripping, my pet," he laughs, and spreads my wetness onto my thighs and onto my ass. I can do nothing. I can't move an inch, can't react, can't encourage him or squirm away.
I close my eyes again as he leans away from me. When he leans back, he rubs jelly around my ass, working in one finger, then two. His other hand snakes around and twists my breast, squeezing. I can't even gasp I am pulled so tight. I hear him laugh again as he leans his whole body against me and pushes his cock into my ass in one quick movement.
I need to move, to respond. But all I can do is hang there as he works himself in and out of me, now slowly, now faster. His hands hold my hips as he uses me, for I am now his, and if this is how he wants me, I can only submit.
His thrusts gain speed and finally, finally, I can feel an orgasm building, releasing all the desires of the day. Master squeezes my hips so hard the pain cuts into the pleasure, and a scream pours from me as I cum, and he cums with me.
It is quiet in the room now as he moves away from me and quickly unbinds me before going to wash up. I sit on the floor in a daze, not believing this is over. I am his. It is done. When we go back to our lives now, it will be different. I stand up and turn to go wash up myself.
"Where are you going?" Master walks over to me. He has that tone of voice that makes me feel I've done something wrong. I look at him and gesture toward the bathroom. He gives me a look that says I'm being silly. "Turn around," he says. I do, almost hesitating, and he walks behind me and slips a blindfold over my head. Reaching forward, he adjusts it and smooths down my hair. He then takes my arm and walks me forward. I feel the carpeting under my feet give way to tile.
"Step up," he says. I do, and feel a smooth surface. Is it a tub? A sink? A ledge? I stand still and Master tells me to turn around. I do, and he pushed me backwards until I feel something made of wood come up firm behind me. He takes my arms, one at a time, and binds them tight to the wood. Once I am secured, he steps away from me and I hear water, pouring from a faucet.
Water. I am terrified of water and Master knows it. When we were discussing what each of us would and wouldn't do, water was at the top of my "absolutely not" list. But I hear a lot of water. I tilt my head up, trying to see under the blindfold, but it's no use. What could he be doing? Perhaps he wants to give me a bath and clean me from earlier. I take a deep breath. I trust him, and he knows my forbidden limits.
He returns to me and binds my legs to the wood. I am spread into a cross. I feel him grab my collar and turn it so the ring is in the back, and attach that to the wood also. He moves around me and takes off my blindfold. I keep my eyes closed for a minute and then snap them open as I feel him placing a strap across my forehead, keeping me completely immobile.
Moving my eyes downward, I see I am tied to a giant wheel. Underneath me is a tub, rapidly filling with water. What is he doing? Master stands directly in front of me, so I can look him in the eye.
"Remember, my pet," he says, reaching out to stroke the side of my face. "I own you now. I own your mind and your body. And this," he moves his hand down toward the tub, "this is what I want to do with your body." He places a clip on my nose.
I forget to open my mouth to get air, I am so wracked with terror. What is he going to do? Stepping away from me, he swings the wheel out so it's directly over the water. With one hand on the edge of the wheel, he starts to turn it. I am close to panic and close my eyes.
"Open your eyes," he orders sharply. I obey, and watch as the room slowly turns upside-down. I hear him lock the wheel in place so it will not spin. I hear a chain, a pulley, and little by little, the wheel moves toward the water, and my hair slips into the tub. Still more of my hair disappears under the surface as the wheel gets lower and lower.
Suddenly, my forehead is wet and I struggle with all my might to get out before Master lowers me into the water up to my neck and stops, leaving me there.
I cannot see. I cannot hear. I am going to die. Why did he want me to agree to the rules? Why is he doing this? I trusted him. How can I trust him?
I feel the wheel being lifted and blessedly I am out of the water and gasping for air. Master spins the wheel so I am upright, and releases my head and removes the nose clip. I am trembling with fear and anger.
"Good girl," he says, rubbing the water from my face and gently kissing me. "I'm proud of you." I am speechless. He leans down and unties my ankles and then unties my wrists. My collar is still clipped. "That was a 'no,' " he says, kissing me again. "And now you know that there are no more 'nos.' I'm going to push you to the very edge and dangle your feet over into space. But it's your trust in me that gives me the strength to never, ever, let you fall." I am still trembling, but my anger is fading quickly. I hang my head, ashamed that I didn't trust him and realizing that, rules or no, I still have a lot to learn.
Master unclips my collar and scoops me up in his arms, carrying me back to the other room, and placing me on a soft leather sofa. He leans forward and holds me tight.
"Wait," he says, and walks to the bathroom, returning with a warm, wet washcloth. Kneeling in front of me, he spreads my legs open and washes my pussy clean and dry. I feel myself relaxing as he moves the rough cloth between my legs. With his other hand, he pushes me back on the sofa so I am reclining, my ass on the very edge of the seat. I close my eyes and let him care for me.
After a few moments he tosses the washcloth aside and replaces it with his tongue. I suck in a huge breath and sigh as he pulls the lips of my pussy wide apart and runs his tongue all along me, stroking and then sucking, sending me off to the place I've been trying to reach since we got on the train hours earlier.
It feels like he's spending hours, working his fingers in and out of me, swirling and poking with his tongue, turning me into nothing but sensation. The orgasm inside me builds and builds, until all that exists is my clit, a tongue and nothing more. My entire body arches as I explode, reaching forward and grabbing his hair, all the stress and all the fears of the day leaving me.
As I return to reality, I see Master is sitting beside me. Looking at him, I watch as he leans forward and removes my collar. I tilt my head, asking him an unspoken question. He places the collar on the sofa, and holds out his hands. Cupped in them is a beautiful piece of woven black leather, on which is tied a silver Celtic eternity knot.
"This is your public collar," he says tenderly, as he leans forward and places it around my neck. "Just another reminder that I am always, always with you." He kisses the tip of my nose. "Now let's go. Let's finish this perfect day someplace special."
We dress and walk out into the early evening, and find a perfect little restaurant. He orders me a wonderful meal, and our conversation is light and loving. And when the waiter brings him the charge slip to sign, Master smiles and hands me a folded piece of paper and a pen.
It is our contract.
End of Story