Having crossed the threshold of her own volition, she needed to be made acutely aware of what it meant to be owned unconditionally, to be objectified, to be a possession without any right to complain or protest.
And so I strapped her tightly to a post in the hall before the soiree, gagging her securely with a ballgag which I then smothered with red tape. I blindfolded her and teased her mercilessly, with the leather strap that tightly bisected her cunt.
It was only as the guests started to arrive, to marvel at my new toy, that I turned my attention to her tits…and that was where the fun truly began…
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Sir and I had not had much experience together yet, but He already was learning me very well. He knew I would respond well to being tightly cinched in straps not just at the wrists and ankles, but indeed all over my body, and attached to something immobile. Then I would truly feel secure and possessed.
I could hear Him moving around me, and I could imagine Him organizing tools and toys. When He moved away, I would test the straps, but found little room to move. I realized that by revolving my hips I could generate a pleasant sensation where the strap rested against my clit, but I could not generate enough friction with the smooth strap to get any satisfaction; rather, it simply generated more frustration.
By contrast, my breasts were almost completely free, and they jiggled with every move I made. This in turn wiggled the nipple clamps, sending tingles of pain and pleasure into my breasts, through my torso and down through my belly.
After a time I became aware that Sir was speaking to someone else; then there were a few distinct voices. I felt a surge of fear and unease as the voices came closer. Sir had not mentioned having any company, and we had certainly not discussed having anyone else witness our session. That choice was moot, however, as I had agreed there would be no conditions upon my servitude as part of my agreement to serve penance to Him.
“Here she is,” he said, as they entered the room. I squirmed involuntarily as I tried to determine who, or how many, they might be. Voices murmured affirmation with overt comments upon my looks, my bondage, my curvy hips and full breasts. “Be still, and trust,” I heard his voice whisper in my ear as his hand glided over my shoulders, upper chest, and across my tummy—taking care not to touch my breasts.
More and more voices could be heard as more people came into the room, until they surrounded me on all sides, perhaps twenty or more. Their comments were mostly complimentary, but some were crude—even misogynistic in their descriptions of what they would do to me if given the chance…and would they be?
It was then I realized how little I knew of Him…He had warned me my treatment would be intense and with little mercy shown. But would He be a jealous Dominant, keeping me only for Himself, or would He allow the crowd, or individuals in the crowd, to join in my treatment…or worse yet, take me away and impose their will at His behest? I realized it was far too late for such questions, as whatever the answers, it would not be up to me.
A hush fell over the crowd, then, as I heard His footsteps before me. A slight murmur could be heard from a few others just before I heard the familiar whispering sound of the strands of His favorite flogger slicing through the air. There was a rhythmic, repetitious sound as He wound the flogger in a circle through the air.
Then in the absolute silence of the room I heard the whisper change to a whistle as the strands flew through the air, and heard—even before I felt—the strands make contact with bare flesh as they made the first of many slashes across my vulnerable breasts…
—subkatie
I love it when one of my older vignettes rolls across my dashboard unexpectedly. Worth re-sharing!
Credit to @josefk67 for writing the first part, too.
—subkatie
KatieD 