1 Mayıs 2024

Afterwards – The Prequel

Blonde

The taxi journey to the club was quiet. Besides checking in with me my mistress was content to look out of the window and watch the world go by and I, never to speak without permission during these times, sat silently, hands folded in my lap. Once we arrived she was welcomed into the club with a grace and courtesy befitting her status and I followed silently in her wake, not taking my eyes off her feet. We were both often too busy with work to perform at the club but when the opportunity arose we made sure our absence would be missed.

The public lounge descended into a hush at her entrance – a natural response to mistress entering any room she walked into. Presently standing at 6 foot 7 in her heels she commanded attention and presided confidently over the space she inhabited – from the red soles of her shoes to her matching red lipstick and every devastating inch of silk and lace in between. It wasn’t until she had travelled the length of the room and stopped at the bar that the other patrons remembered themselves and the room ticked back into motion. As ever I stood silent and close to her heel whilst she ordered a drink.

Tonight she had dressed me relatively demurely in flat pumps and a loosely draped maxi dress, like the Roman stolas and tunics of old, held together by two silver clasps which sat atop my shoulders. The plain virginal white of the fabric wasn’t lost on anyone. The look was completed by four simple silver bands around my wrists and ankles. Whilst they looked delicate they were sturdy enough to be used as cuffs should the want arise (my mistress had tested their capabilities. Rigorously). My bands matched a silver thread on her otherwise black corset and we would both shine when the light flashed correctly, further highlighting our presence. I am far from the statuesque beauty that is my mistress – when I’m not slouching I just reach 5 foot 1 and spend a lot of my life feeling generally shy and easily overwhelmed. But here, standing proudly as the other half of her with my precise appearance and tidy posture I feel powerful.

I stood obediently as she chatted to friends and acquaintances, her stance casual and relaxed. I wasn’t paid attention to much – I didn’t mind, though a passing comment about my behaviour or appearance would be made when her fingers would reach out to trace idle patterns over my skin, attracting their gaze my way. She smiled, not directly at me though I knew it was because she felt the goosebumps across the back of my neck. Each brief caress was making me hotter and when the back of her hand finally traced the outline of my breast I thought I would melt.

“Drink.” She said when we were alone.

I brought my mouth to the glass of water she tipped towards me and took a few sips. Her own glass of wine stood empty on the bar. When she removed the glass I licked the drops slowly from my lips. I know she finds it seductive, I did it to tease. I lowered my gaze to hide my small smile before seeing if she had witnessed it.

“Thank you mistress.” I hadn’t been asked to speak, but she prides herself on my good manners. She set the glass down next to her own and stepped away towards the upper floor, towards the smaller and more private lounges. I followed her up, eyes firmly fixed on the curve of her tight skirt, unable to pull my focus anywhere else like a dog to a bone. Half way up the stairs she paused and turned towards me with a wry smile. The quick aversion of my gaze told her everything she needed to know, and I knew the extra sway of her hips up the remaining few steps was as much for her benefit as it was for mine.

Once in the room I shut the door and stood with my back to the wall. Her impenetrable exterior quickly changed to one of clinical efficiency and she set about arranging and checking the room to her safety and satisfaction. The lounge was warm and softly lit. Cosy. You could see people knitting over tea here. Were it not for the rack of canes my mistress was currently manoeuvring into position. Once satisfied with her display she placed a hand on a crop and turned to look at me hard for a moment. My body shivered involuntarily and she spun away with another deliciously sadistic smile. I had gotten my answer about teasing her in the bar.

“The chairs darling.” She waved an arm around the lounge. “In a semi-circle facing the fireplace.” She pointed to near where a considerable collection of toys were arranged on a small table.

“Yes ma’am.” I said as I pushed off the wall.

Each of the eight wingback chairs were almost the size and weight of me. I think she enjoyed the flushed look of exertion the task left me with.

“Come here.” She pointed at a spot in front of her once I had finished setting up the space.

When I was standing before her she gently cupped my cheek in her hand, raised my face up to hers and leant in for a deep kiss, her tongue slipping over mine and leaving me breathless. Her other hand skimmed up and down my arm in Kartal Grup Escort contrasting tenderness.

“Are you ready, little one?” She asked, looking into my eyes. Her thumb traced my jaw as she waited patiently for me to reply.

I could say ‘no’ if I wanted. This was my chance to say so, if I was feeling too overwhelmed. I knew she would still love me either way. I thought for a moment about what I wanted. There was a fluttering of nerves in my chest, however there was a much larger and more urgent throbbing occurring lower down between my legs and that made my answer much easier.

“Yes, Miss.” It came out sincerely. I needed to be touched. Needed whatever she had planned.

She held my gaze. I saw the intensity and lust in her eyes – surely a look reflected in my own.

“But will you help me down, please?” I asked quietly. I wasn’t quite there yet, still hovering on the edge between being her private little one and the public sub she wanted to show off.

“Of course little love.” She pressed a final kiss to my temple then, quicker than I could register her grey eyes changed to ice and a firm hand gripped the back of my neck. I shivered again at the difference.

“On your knees.” Her voice was colder, flintier, as she pushed and I let myself drop. “Lower.” I sat back on my feet. Not satisfied she pushed again. “I said lower.” I bent forwards in her grasp until my nose touched the carpet and steadied myself with my hands. I felt the briefest of strokes on the back of my head as a final reassurance.

“You will not move until you are told. Do you understand?”

“Yes mistress.” I replied quietly.

For a while my mistress didn’t move and I calmed myself by being able to see her shoes in what little view I had. But then they were gone and I knew better than to look where she went. The door to the small lounge opened shortly after and I heard a number of people file in, though their footsteps were muffled on the carpet and I couldn’t tell who it was or how many. Encouragingly, as I remained stock still in my low bow I heard a few murmurs of appreciation as the group took their seats. I felt a firm hand run over my back and down my sides, like an owner inspecting the flanks of their pet.

“Up.” That was her. Voice of velvet and steel.

I rose up to sit straight back and settled neatly on my heels, eyes on the floor.

“You can look.”

There were four men and three women. Two I recognised, the rest I did not. They were all dressed smartly and appraised me with hungry eyes. As my gaze moved between each one my brain put the pieces together and the intentions of my mistress became clear. All seated on the chairs. Fully clothed – no collars or cuffs. Doms, then. The cane – canes. A selection box of toys . Training and demonstration evening. With me as the live canvas . At my revelation my body practically hummed with excited energy and I ended my assessment with a brief glance at my mistress before returning my eyes to the floor. I sat up a little neater, ready. With this action she had my consent, and my blessing. I could already feel a warm wetness between my thighs in anticipation of bearing their marks.

“Stand.” It was only a whisper but I was on my feet before she had finished the command. I stood, hands at my sides as she came up close behind me and tipped my head back to rest against her chest, making the tendons in my neck stand out. I could feel the heat radiating between us, the spark of anticipation. Slowly she brought a hand over my shoulder and began to tease my nipple through the fabric of my dress. Her other arm locked around my waist. There was a sharp nip to the shell of my ear.

“You can make noise for them pet, let them hear you moan.”

I did. It came out breathy and needy. I felt her lips twitch up in approval.

Her nimble fingers worked their way in the side of my dress, stroking over the soft flesh until they reached their target. There was a sharp pinch and pull and I wanted to arch up for more. The action elicited another moan but I kept myself still – I had been given permission to make a noise, not to move and she was expecting my best. Fingers unhurriedly roamed around and moved higher, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake until she reached the silver clasp. Her hand paused on the catch and I held my breath in hope. After several agonising beats she moved and in one easy motion a breast was bared and displayed to the group as her fingers danced their way back to my nipple. She cupped and lifted the flesh in one hand and brought her mouth down to taste, tongue taking over where fingers had previously teased. Oh god. The other one. Please. Touch the other one .

As if reading my mind the hand around my waist was removed and the second clasp unceremoniously undone and I was exposed to the hips – her arm returning to its place the only thing holding up the remaining fabric and keeping me partially and tantalisingly Kartal Manken Escort covered. I could feel my pulse throbbing in my breasts with each pull, my nipples hardening under each lick and pinch. With my focus on the sensations of her swirling tongue and vision obscured by her leaning over me I sensed rather than saw the small crowd becoming more attentive – the shuffling of fabric and shifting in their seats. I took it to be a favourable sign. My body did too and I felt another warm pulse slick the top of my thighs.

She placed her hands on the sides of my hips and took a step back.

“Shoes off. Hands behind your head.” More steel than velvet this time.

I interlaced my fingers, my breasts rising and standing out with the action. The room was warm but her wet sucking had made my nipples stiffen and I let out a mewl as the air hit each peak.

“These guests are here to train, pet.” She began clearly and firmly, speaking to both me and the group. “I’ve generously offered use of your body, to help them with their studies.” Oh . “You should be honoured they’ve accepted pet. You will listen to their instruction and obey them as you would me.” Oh yes, please. My mind wandered at the potential. A hand pulled me sharply up by the nipple at my silence and I rose on my tiptoes, barely biting back a hiss. “Do you understand?” Her voice was colder and I needed no further warning.

“Yes mistress. Of course.” The thought of being used my so many had turned me on more than I thought possible. I let out a moan of pleasure at her rough treatment, trying to disguise it as an affirmation of my attentiveness though I knew she wouldn’t be fooled so easily.

“Good.” I felt her smile into my shoulder and with a swift bite to the junction of my neck she released her hands and my dress pooled around my feet, displaying me utterly and completely to the audience.

As I looked back down to the floor I saw a few nods of appreciation and I knew I had started blushing. My skin flushes in patches of pink, a trait I know my mistress likes to see and by their nods these new visitors did too. I’m sure their appreciation was helped by the slickness between my legs and down my thighs they could undoubtedly also now see. I wanted to be touched. I wanted to be used.

One of the doms I recognised, Master Black, stood up, taking off his jacket and carefully folding back shirt sleeves before stepping towards me. Strong hands ran over my torso and sides, dipping briefly into my wetness to tease just enough to elicit a quiet moan before pulling away. I imagined this to be the man who first inspected me when they entered.

“Good.” He said simply. My mouth flickered in gratitude. “Mr Blue,” he looked at one of the men I didn’t recognise, a slightly younger man leaning forwards attentively in his seat, “warm her up with the crop.”

A clever test for the newcomer. Was he skilled enough to tease me and leave me begging and moaning for more? Warm me enough to take me down but still alert and ready for the sting of harder things to come? I hoped so .

The man, Mr Blue, walked briskly towards me, unable to hide his eagerness. He rolled up his sleeves in an imitation of Master Black and accepted the proffered crop. The leather was deep red in colour. I knew it wouldn’t be long before we matched.

“Bend over. Forearms on the table.” Mr Blue directed.

I settled into position quickly, facing away from the hungry group, Master Black to the left of my peripheral vision, Mr Blue behind and my mistress to the right.

“You will take twenty strokes with my crop. I want you to count them.”

“Yes sir.” I replied. He knew by having me participate it would stop me slipping away somewhere fuzzy and blissful too soon. A promising sign.

The first strike was delivered evenly across the middle of my backside with a satisfying snap and I dutifully counted “one, sir” at the motion. I felt the sting of the next four – felt their warmth spread across my cheeks, but it was not as hard as I had received before – there was no bite yet to his swing and his rhythm was steady enough not to catch me unawares. Still, he was good enough that I knew if I rubbed my thighs together they would be wetter than ever. I heard him shuffle and readied myself for the next few. Master Black had taught him well – the following five were delivered from different sides – the tab of leather landing exquisitely on my folds making me let out a low breathy moan. I would have stuttered with my counting were it not for my resolve to be perfect for my mistress, instead breathing out a restrained “nine, sir. Ten, sir.”

I waited for the next lot of five, buzzing in anticipation, wanting more, wanting to be good. I relaxed as I heard him move, becoming pliant for him when instead of feeling the crack of leather I felt a hardness nudge up against my lips. I moaned, clenching my muscles as he dragged the handle of the Kartal Masöz Escort crop through my slit, sliding easily through my wetness as he ran it back and forth through my folds. I gasped as it pressed against my clit, the noise turning into more of a strangled moan as someone, possibly my mistress, whispered “good girl” close to my ear.

The final ten came swiftly and sharp, raining down across my backside and tops of my thighs. He was predictable but the even rhythm helped build a steady fire within the pit of my stomach and by the end my counting was sounding distinctly needy. I was desperate for more. For any kind of friction.

“Not bad.” Master Black assessed once Mr Blue had finished his masterpiece. He ran a smooth hand firmly over my backside and I keened softly at his touch. Without warning he entered me with two fingers, twisting up to press against my walls. His strokes were gentle, almost leisurely, a teasing preamble to what I hoped would be a satisfying and well-earned climax. No sooner had I leaned into the touch his fingers were removed and I ached at the feeling of emptiness. I let out a steadying breath and out of the corner of my eye saw my mistress quirk her lips in a knowing smile. Wet fingers trailed across my mouth and I sucked obediently, tasting myself. Master Black stared back, eyes becoming cloudy with lust and silent praise.

“Keep your hands on the table.”

“Yes sir.” It came out cracked and I tried again a little louder, eliciting another smile from him and my mistress.

“Mr Rose, Mistress Amber.”

Oh .

“If you would like to demonstrate the cane please?”

Oh no .

These two doms were new – I hadn’t seen them at the club before though they seemed perfectly at ease, like they’d been there for years. Must be some special innate skill doms have, to feel confident and at home anywhere they trod. I didn’t mind that I wasn’t familiar with them and after all it didn’t matter, my mistress had agreed to it and I would trust and obey. Hands traced along my reddened backside and I balled my hands into fists on the table, letting out a gasp of surprise before I could stop it.

Master Black spoke again. “Five each. Leave her wanting more.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I glanced at the two newest participants and they took their cue.

“Stand up straighter, hands on the table, come off your forearms.” The woman, Mistress Amber ordered.

I pushed up, stretching out as I went, spreading out my fingers on the surface as a brace.

The first two strikes came shortly after, nerves firing on the left and right sides of my backside and I dimly acknowledged they were left and right handed, alternating their strokes. Awkwardly the first thing that entered my mind at the contact was a curious and begrudging respect. This was quickly replaced by pain as a third strike was misplaced and whipped across my hip bone. I cried out, wide eyes looking to my mistress.

“Stop.” Called Master Black, just as my mistress took a step forwards. His fingers ran over my hip, inspecting the area. His hand was soft and well-manicured and I longed to see if his whole body was so well cared for. I saw them nod to each other, Master Black acknowledging I was largely unharmed and apologising for the mis-hit, my mistress, stony faced, accepting the slight.

“Let me show you again.” He said.

His hands once again traced over my body, fingers caressing the tops of my thighs, kneading the flesh, brushing against my folds. His actions took me back down, took me back into the space he wished me to inhabit, ready for more pleasure. When I shuddered and let out a soft whine he deemed me ready and stepped away. He demonstrated three steady strikes with the thin cane and I gasped after each one, automatically stammering out a count in the hopes of pleasing him. I heard noises of appreciation from behind me at my behaviour. His hits were delicious. Each strike landed accurately and I could feel the sting spreading millimetre by millimetre along the length of the line.

When I heard him step away I think I shed a tear at the loss.

Mr Rose and Mistress Amber began again. They were quick learners and I was soon panting and moaning at their rhythm, hissing at the sting and gasping at the burn of pain and pleasure. At the ninth and tenth my knees were buckling, fingers scratching at the table as an outlet. It was only the promise to my mistress to be good that was keeping me from prostrating myself at everyone’s feet and begging them to soothe the ache between my legs.

I stood hot and sweaty, damp hair stuck to my skin. My hands and toes felt cold in stark contrast to the heat radiating from my rear. Mistress Amber tracked a single finger over my backside and I hissed as she ran up and over the individually raised welts from bottom to top. She delivered a stinging slap over a cheek and I cried out loudly in pain. Its sting cleared my foggy brain and I bent lower over the table to further demonstrate my submission – she was clearly more of a sadist than Mr Rose and I had no desire to be on the end of any more of her hits. Seemingly satisfied with just the one slap she pulled me backwards to the floor and moved away with a dark laugh.

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