It had all begun in such an unsuspecting and sweet way. I thought about it, while trying to find a position that wasn’t too painful as I crouched in a cage. Yes, a cage. Me inside a cage. Locked in and left alone by Tom, the man I met not so long ago and who had taken me on a journey into something unknown by me, but intense and filled with life, a life I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave again. 

I had gone to a concert, an open-air festival, eager to see one of the groups and hoping to meet up with a friend there. When I got her message saying she didn’t feel well and wouldn’t come, I decided to go alone.

It was one of these slightly messy but incredibly colourful festivals and I had a lot of fun. I was queueing up to get a pint of bitter before “my” band came on when I saw him. Tall, slim, dark hair and looking straight at me. Feeling happy and light that evening, I smiled at him, and he walked over and stood in line with me. 

Meeting and talking to him was easy, and although I can feel awkward at times with strangers, He made me feel as if we had known each other for a long time. He paid for my beer, and declared he wanted to see the same band I was heading for. We were soon chatting and laughing, and I almost forgot about the music. 

There were so many small things that made me feel like I was the winner of the big lottery, from his way of looking at me to his humour. The fact that I liked his looks and felt a familiar tickling sensation whenever his body brushed against mine weren’t bad news either. We stayed on and on, drinking more beer, getting food, and talking. He knew how to make me laugh and I felt incredibly comfortable with him. I hoped the night wouldn’t end. 

People were starting to leave while we were still listening to a street artist playing a mournful song about the state of the world. Tom pulled me into his arms and started a slow, half-mocking dance. His body against mine made my heart beat faster. I knew I wanted him and felt scared that it might end how it started – out of nowhere and into nothing. 

He looked at me and smiled. “I really don’t want this evening to end. And I want to fuck you hard. Badly.”

If I had liked the beginning of what he said, the end did somewhat… surprise me. My face must have told, because I could see he was amused by my reaction. 

“Aren’t you supposed to say something about coming over for a good-night drink?” I said.

“Maybe I am, but I don’t mean a drink. I mean I want sex with you. Does it bother you it’s put bluntly like this?”

“I… no, I guess not.” I knew I was blushing and cursed my genes.

“And?” 

I took a deep breath. “Do you want to come over to my place?”

He smiled. 

We decided to walk the short distance. I began to feel nervous. I didn’t know the guy, only his name. Tom. He had put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me towards him. He is tall and strong, and I am small and slim, no match for somebody like him. And I was going to let him into my apartment, with no life-line, nothing to make sure this was safe? 

But then, there was this evening with him, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes, his body, his manner of listening to me, his kindness. I wanted him, wanted what he wanted, wanted to undress him, discover his cock, enjoy it… 

“Are you ok?”

I looked up at him and nodded. 

“Let me guess. You’re telling yourself you’re a fool for inviting a stranger to your place, right? And that I might be a serial killer out to rape you, kill you, cut you in pieces and store you in your freezer.”

“Yes, kind of… only my freezer is way too small.”

“I could go over to your neighbours and borrow theirs!”

“I see you got it all planned.”

He stopped but didn’t take his arm off me. “Look, Jen, I’m enjoying this evening. I like you. I’m horny, I have admitted that, and I want to get you naked sooner rather than later. I think I have been very direct about that, which might sound extremely creepy. If you prefer, we’ll meet some other time and I’ll have to wank myself off on my own – which would be horribly disappointing, especially as I haven’t even seen your breasts yet.”

“Oh, and we don’t want you to be disappointed, do we?” I replied in a feeble attempt to be witty.

“I don’t want to for sure. So, do we walk on or do I give you my phone number so you can call me back?”

I wanted him, too. Badly. And I was curious. And nervous. “Let’s… walk on.”

“Tell me,” he said. “What are you into?”

“Into?”

“What do you like?”

“You mean… what?”

He laughed. “Girl, I mean, what do you like, what gets you off or turns you on and what do you enjoy in bed?”

I didn’t know what to say and felt very stupid. “I, uh…”

“Wait. I’m sorry, Jen, but how old are you?”

“Twenty-three," I blurted out, feeling a little desperate. “Why?” 

“Because I was scared all of sudden you might be under eighteen. You look young enough.”

“How old are you, while we’re at it?”

“A little older than you. Old enough to know what I like. But I guess I’ve had more time to find out, so my question was unfair.”

“And now?” I said, feeling I had made a fool of myself and somehow disappointed him.

“And now, we’re on a mission to find out what you like and are into. Very enjoyable.” He seemed unperturbed. 

We had arrived in front of my building. I fished for the keys in my pocket. Somehow, the dynamic between us had changed from equals to him being in charge and me being the scared youngster. I wasn’t sure I liked it but showed him the way up into my flat, thinking about his question. Why didn’t I know what I liked?

I had been with men before him. Coming from a very strict and religious background where sex was not to be talked about, and if it was, then only to remind that “it” was for married people only. “It” was supposed to be bad, dirty, and sacred somehow at the same time. I had always asked more questions than were welcome. 

The vision of getting married and becoming a baby-producing machine didn’t fly with me. As soon as possible, I had moved out and passed from long skirts to short ones and, worse even, jeans. I had gotten an education and a job, and somebody to rid me of the sacred virginity. I had slept around for a while, thinking I knew all there was to know. Guys would kiss you, then grab your breasts, then undress you. You could or sometimes had to suck them, then they would penetrate your vagina and cum. 

Enjoyable, but often not fulfilling. Not as I had wanted or had dreamed it to be. I knew I loved to see, to touch, to feel a hard cock. I loved feeling it move into me, loved when it slammed into my pussy (bad word!), but was that what I was into? Was that what Tom wanted to hear?

I unlocked my apartment door, conscious of how small it was and imagining seeing it through Tom’s eyes. Messy, comfortable, colourful, stuffed with books, and with clothes strewn on the floor. Mine. I had been so proud when I had first moved in. 

He looked around and then closed the door behind us. Not knowing what to do, I took my jacket off, put it on a hanger and looked at him. 

“Keep going," he said. 

“What?”

“Keep going. Take your clothes off. Get naked. Whatever way of putting it you prefer.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I can either do it for you or leave, depending on your wishes.”

He smiled, and I tried to not show the mix of confusion, lust, fear, and insecurity I felt. I wanted to defy him. We had barely stepped into my apartment and he was ordering me around? But following his lead would also mean knowing what to do, which would be a relief. 

“I don’t want you to leave. But I am not sure I want you to order me around.”

“That’s what I am into though,” he said. He looked at me for a second, as if trying to make a judgement call. Then he stepped towards me, pushed me against the wall, pressed his leg between mine and caught my hair in his hand, forcing my head upwards to face him. He looked at me, as if trying to read my face. 

“I promise that, as soon as you say ‘stop,’ I will stop," he said. 

I didn’t want him to stop. Although it was scary, being in his grip in this way felt good. Without thinking about it, I tried to wriggle away from him, but he held on. 

“The word is ‘stop’,” he said. 

I swallowed hard, but didn’t say it. 

He bent down and kissed me. It was playful, but harder than what I was used to as a first kiss, and I could feel him smile, but the way in which he did it also held something else.

“I said undress," he said, as he let go of my mouth. 

I shook my head and gave him a defiant smile. It would have been too easy otherwise. 

With a quick move, he gathered both my hands into his and shoved me around so that I was now facing the wall with his body holding mine. He pulled the zip of my dress down and then lifted its skirt. He rubbed the skin of my bottom, pushing the fabric of my panties aside. My skin warmed under his touch as I tried to free my wrists from his grip, and then, suddenly, he slapped me right on the cheek of my ass. Hard. 

I shrieked a little, both from the surprise and the sudden stinging sensation. 

“What?” he said, while slapping both of my cheeks now. Again, I shrieked, and the almost forgotten anxiety rushed back into me. 

“Talk to me,” Tom said. “What is it?” 

I didn’t understand what was going on. “You hit me!” 

He laughed, holding me firm.

“I spanked you. I don’t ‘hit’ women. Has nobody ever done this to you?”

He pressed against me, and I felt his cock on my backside, hard and big.

“No," I said. The stinging had stopped.

“I’ll show you more, and how to enjoy it. But now let’s take this off.“ He shoved the sleeves of my dress down one arm, then the other. My dress fell to the floor at my feet. He let go of me and took a step backwards, I felt him looking at me before I turned around to face him again. I crossed my arms over my breasts, all too conscious of my cheap cotton bra. 

“Sweetie, get naked.”

I shook my head. “No. You first.”

There was the twinkle in his eye again, the one I had liked all evening long.

“Okay, I accept, but you do it.”

“Okay,” I said. “But bon’t you want to come in just little further?” I had realised we were still standing in my minuscule entry.

He followed me into the only room I had. Large windows, my bed, an armchair, desk and wardrobe. He stood next to the bed and motioned me to come. I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His energy and body warmth seemed to envelop me; I breathed his scent and loved touching his skin as I uncovered more of him. He was strong. I could feel his muscles as I caressed his arms on my way towards his pants. I could hardly contain my excitement. This man was for me, all for me. Tonight at least. 

I almost trembled as I undid his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free. It was… amazing. Properly shaven, it stood long and hard, waiting for me.

I don’t know how much of my pleasure and amazement he felt. He didn’t say a word and let me do what I wanted, he only sat down on the bed when I put my mouth on his cock. 

My first boyfriend had taught me how to suck. We had long and crazy “lessons” during which he instructed on just how to do it, and I had enjoyed every minute despite the pain in my jaw that inevitably set in after a while. A cock in my mouth was almost as good as a cock in my pussy. It was fulfilling, dirty in my book, almost symbolic for nourishment… and, hence, I had spent a lot of time feeding on cocks. 

I knelt in front of Tom and started to embrace the tip, licking, enjoying the taste of the heat, and the heat I imagined would come. Then I sucked him right into my mouth, as deep as I could, fighting my gag reflex. I couldn’t take his full length and had to pull up to breathe, but I wasn’t going to give up. I worked my tongue up and down his shaft and continued to suck him in as much as I could, taking him deeper and deeper. My eyes teared up. With each sigh and moan, I got more and more pre-cum. 

“Girl, don’t make me come,” he sighed and again grabbed me by my hair to stop me. I smiled at him. 

“You surprise me,” he said thoughtfully, before unhooking my bra and taking it off. My breasts sprang free, but he was already busy pushing my panties down,. He pulled me up and pushed me belly down on my bed. He adjusted my position and opened my legs. I felt his cock at my pussy, gently for a second, then firmly as he pushed into me. 

I had been waiting for and wanting his cock, and this first moment penetration never fails. Forbidden and so powerful, being “had” by somebody, feeling full and more complete. I moaned. He moved me, adjusting my position, moving my ass up. He gripped my hips and slammed himself into me several times before stopping.

“Tell me you like it," he ordered.

“I do," I moaned, head pushing into my mattress, breathless, and ready for more. 

“You like my cock?”

“I love your cock,” I said. 

He pulled out of me and I tensed. I wanted him inside me. I wanted more of him. Suddenly, he slapped my ass, as hard as before. He hovered over me, his hand on my neck holding me down. Several other slaps followed. I winced.

“Feel it," he said. “Your ass is getting red, it’s hot, there is pain, but you also feel like you are completely there, and you like it somehow, right? Tell me!”

“No!" I blurted, but I did. “Yes… yes.”

He paused, then another round of slaps rained on my bottom. Wincing and moaning, I wanted it to stop, but as soon as it did, and drunk with sensations, I wanted him to do it again. 

Tom’s cock slammed back into me, stronger this time, as if I had been fine-tuned in between. This time, he fucked me for good, his balls slapping against my ass as he accelerated. 

I was riding on his rhythm and arousal when he reached beneath me and grabbed one of my breasts, squeezing it hard. It hurt, and the only thing that counted was that and his cock and the feeling of being mounted in this way. I came moments before his cock pulsed and unloaded his semen into me. 

“Oh fuck," he moaned, as he let go and gathered me in his arms. We both struggled to catch our breath.

“Did you come?” he asked.

“Yeah," I said, trying to figure out what had happened here. 

“Next time tell me when you do. It’s a rule I have. Always tell me.”

“A rule?”

He gave a soft laugh. 

“I think my world is a little different from yours. I will tell you about it. Before we get going again.”

----------------

The door opened, and Josh walked in. He appearance brutally brought me back into the present, this present in which I was in a dungeon, in a cage, handed over by Tom to his friends. And with a butt plug in my ass, although I didn’t know that this was what it was called. 

He offered me a sandwich and a glass of water. 

“How are you, girl?”

I reached through the bars for the glass and almost emptied it in one go. I didn’t feel hungry but took a bite of the sandwich. I needed the energy. Josh pulled a chair close, sat, and looked down at me. 

“I asked you how you are.”

“I am sitting in a bloody cage, what do you think?”

He seemed amused. 

“I once left a sub of mine in there for two days. She needed a lesson.”

“You what? Two days?”

I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t to find a position that wasn’t altogether uncomfortable after twenty minutes and he had locked somebody into this for two days?

He nodded.

“Why?”

“She deserved it.”

“How about food? Bathroom?”

“I took her out twice a day.”

“I would have peed myself.”

“That’s not something I would mind.”

“Was this in here?” and I pointed at “my” cage.

“Yep," he smiled. “But if it helps, it’s been cleaned since.”

Somehow, I hadn’t altogether taken in the fact that I wasn’t the only one, that there was a system, something that was done regularly and as a norm. I had experienced each minute as something unique, something particular and special just for me. The idea that this was a world of its own made things seem bigger, and it was intimidating. 

“Did Tom approve of that?”

“He did.” He looked at me thoughtfully, as if hesitating whether to continue. “You know, he is extremely careful with you. I have never seen him plan and consider so many details and steps in the making of a sub. He believes you can go very far on this journey.”

I knew he meant it as an encouragement, but instead, it made me feel desperate. I didn’t believe I could, and I feared that I would disappoint him. I wasn’t good at this, and I hated sitting in that cage.

I handed the sandwich back to Josh. 

“You’re done? Oh well, up to you. I’m going to take you to the ladies room now and then get you ready.”

He ate my sandwich, bent down, opened the cage and I crawled out and stood up. He took me by the collar and led me along. 

“I can walk on my own," I said. 

“You should be on your knees, young lady.”

“No!”

He looked at me again, with that same considering, thoughtful look. He shrugged his shoulders. “Your choice”. 

Why did he let me? I knew I was going to have to pay for this, but why did he let me have it my way? I felt miserable and angry somewhere deep down, in a way I wouldn’t have been able to express. 

When we got back, he sat me on the floor, facing that bloody cage again and attached my wrists to it with something that looked like padded handcuffs and was closed with a buckle. He left me there, and I heard him open what sounded like drawers and shuffle stuff around. 

It was then that I realised that he hadn’t properly buckled my left wrist. I had to pull hard and felt a little pain, but I freed my hand and immediately set out to get my other wrist off as well. I didn’t think about it, I just did – because I could. 

Josh hadn’t noticed. I made for the door, silent on my bare feet, my heart beating as if it was going to explode it. I didn’t know why I did it, I didn’t know where I would go. But I had to – because he had let me. 

I got to the door, tried to open it, and failed. It was locked, and of course now Josh noticed. I heard him swear and knew he was coming after me. I turned the lock, opened the door and ran… 

“Whoa!”

I had run straight into Tom who was followed by Marc. I managed to not lose my balance and escaped Tom’s grip, turned around and was caught by Josh. My vision and my mind had tunnelled. All I knew, all I wanted was to win this one, manage to get away from them this one time. I fought Josh’s grip, but then my legs were caught from behind. I lost my balance and fell to the ground and someone pretty much slammed his body on mine. Tom. 

I almost passed out from the pain and the double impact, but then was back into wriggling and fighting my Master with all I could. I was no match though, and knew I wasn’t, but I still had to do it. 

He adjusted his position on me several times until he pretty much had all of me in his grip and pinned to the ground. His knees and elbows bore into my legs and arms and then he caught my hair, immobilising my head. He wasn’t as measured as usual, weighing his gestures carefully to impose just the right amount of control and pain. He was hard, and he hurt me, but it helped clear my mind. 

“Say the bloody password and you’re out of here,” he ordered. 

I shook my head. This was not what it was about. 

He pinned me down even harder, looking at me as if to read my face.

“You can use the password if you feel it’s too much and you need a break. For fuck’s sake, you can use words, you can talk. If this is what you need, just say it!”

I couldn’t say anything, but I stopped struggling underneath him, hypnotised by the way he looked at me. He didn’t seem angry. 

“Why? Why now?” he asked, softening his tone. Had he understood what I couldn’t express?

“He let me!” I almost wailed, trying to summon whatever strength I had, using the flood as a leverage to push him off me, to rid me of his hands – anything really. He didn’t let me.

And then I realised they were laughing, all three of them. Tom bent down and kissed my cheek, brushed my hair with his lips. Although his grip on me hadn’t lessened, his voice was soft as he whispered something into my ear, as if just between him and me. 

“It’s alright, I still got you.”

He either didn’t notice or else ignored the tear that escaped my eye. Relief had caught hold of me, both by his hard grip and by his understanding this demon in me that I didn’t understand myself. 

Tom turned he is head to the others. “As I am just a little busy here, would one of you mind bringing me a blindfold? I guess the lady here needs taking care of.” He then proceeded to turn me onto my belly without ever giving me slightest bit of space. I still struggled, but at this point, he had understood enough to not let go. 

A blindfold was brought and tied over my eyes. 

“You don’t mind if I take over for a bit, do you?” he asked.

“Of course not," I heard Marc answer. “Brat is your speciality, not mine. What are you up to? ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose?’” 

“Something like that, yes. Or let’s call it flying lessons for Angry Bird.”

“Better get a straitjacket then," Marc said. “Jesus, why go through the trouble of breaking a stubborn spoilt little brat when you can have so many well-trained subs at your feet?”

“Because this one is special. And because it’s worthwhile, and because I find it amusing.”

“Your choice, I suppose. Just make sure you tie that runner down properly.” 

I was stood up, hands on my wrists and the collar, and walked back into the room where one of the iron grips turned me around and around until I almost lost my balance. Hands held me and lifted me up on something. A table? Once the dizziness had stopped, I had no idea whereabouts in the room I was or what I was on. Whatever I had seen before didn’t help decipher where I now was. 

I was on my knees with my head held down by the collar. Hands moved over me, checking my ass and the plug that was still in there. 

“It’s going to be very enjoyable afterwards” Marc pronounced as he – I guessed it must be him – toyed around with the plug, pushing and pulling it. “On the other hand, I still don’t get how she has any brains left after the fuckfest you’ve put her through.”

Tom spoke. “I know, right? I thought that should be quite enough, but this girl loves cock. We’ve had her airtight, and she still wants more afterwards. Even after last night I still got her going when we got back. A cock slut if there ever was one!”

I hated hearing them talk and laugh like this about me. It was humiliating. The spark of everlasting anger started burning again and got stronger as they continued. Ropes were tied around me. I tried to shake them off or wriggle free, and was mocked. They were generous with slaps, no matter where it was on my body. They talked about me and about different ways of placing or tying the ropes. Ropes were tied around my calves, upper legs, and arms, but I couldn’t figure out what they were really doing to me. 

-------------------------------------------

After that first night, Tom left. I felt confused, tired and incredibly happy with my body and the satisfying sensations it offered me during the day as a reminder of the night. I could smell his scent on me, and in my panties when I went to the toilet. He was everywhere that day, in my mind, on my skin, in me. 

But when he had closed the door behind him in the morning, he hadn’t left me anything else. No phone number, no name, nothing that would allow me to find him. The thought that he had just been out for a night of fun and nothing more slowly took over and left me desperate. I had never met anyone quite like him and had never felt what I had that night. 

I got home and tried to calm down and read. I had stopped by the gym on my way back and tried to work my frustration into oblivion, but the only thing I had achieved was for my aching body to long for him even more.

At around 8 that evening, my door bell rang. By then, I had been so sure that he had just toyed with me and wouldn’t be back that I had made no effort to look nice just in case. I wore an old pair of torn jeans, a tank top and had tied my hair in a pony tail. While I was racing towards the door I quickly though about changing into a dress but dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t be him anyway, and there was no time. 

I opened the door. Tom stood there smiling with a backpack and a bag from a Chinese take-away. I blushed. He was back. I could almost feel my body calling for him.

Over spring roles and chicken rice, he cut out the small talk and reverted to his direct manners from the evening before.

“How did you enjoy last night?”

When I didn’t answer right away, he laughed. “If you’re blushing, does it mean you liked me and my cock, or does it mean you hate us both and want me to vanish?”

“No! Don’t leave.”

“Then tell me about it.”

I looked at him. Why did I always end up in the part of the schoolgirl who hadn’t done her homework? I didn’t know what I was expected to say. 

“Jen,” Tom said. “I loved being with you. Your tits are wonderful and getting into your pussy is an experience by itself. I love how your body reacts and how you resist and give in, how wet you get, how you smell, the sound you make when I slap you and when you come like there is no tomorrow. See, it’s easy. Just say it.”

I couldn’t look at him. 

“Jen, look at me.”

I did. 

“Takes those jeans off and come here.” He said it softly. 

Although I had refused most of his orders so far, I was relieved he had taken over this time. I pulled my jeans off and stepped towards him. He pulled me down on his knees and I felt a wave of happiness upon feeling him so close. He embraced me and then his hand went into my panty, right to the centre. His fingers caressed me before coming up again. 

“You’re wet again, girl,” he stated, in the same way he had commented the long wait at the take-away. He held his fingers under his nose, inhaled, and then under mine at which point I jerked my head away. 

“Jen. You smell delicious. You are delicious. You are deliciously inexperienced. I enjoy all of that. Have you thought about what I told you last night?”

He had told me about BDSM. About rules, about domination and submission. About pain and pleasure. I had been shocked to learn that most of what he described actually existed — a world that seemed so close and so far at the same time. 

“What do you think?” he asked.

Nervous, I was scared of making an idiot of myself. 

“I like what you describe. I liked last night.”

“And?”

“And I would like to… to continue.”

He smiled. “You need to warm up a little! What counts most is being yourself. Stop being so nervous. I won’t go anywhere you don’t want to, okay?”

I nodded. His hands were on my breasts now, slowly massaging them. 

“I brought some toys and stuff I want to try. I would like us to get a safe word.”

He had explained about safety and safe words last night. You might want to say ‘no,’ but not mean it. Or ‘no’ could be part of the game. Hence a safe word.

“Robin Hood,” I said. We had been making jokes about it during the evening at the concert.

“Alright”. 

He grabbed the backpack he had put under the table, opened it, and took something out. A rope. 

I must have looked as scared as I felt. And excited. 

“Hold this," he instructed. 

I took it from him. It was soft to touch, and very flexible. Friend or foe?

Tom pulled my tank-top and bra off, leaving me nothing but panties, and I felt vulnerable again. He must have seen so many sexier women, whereas I was just plain and boring, and didn’t know how to act right. I covered my breasts with my arms, hoping his judgement wouldn’t be too harsh. 

“Sweetie, stop doing that.” His voice was soft, as was his hand on my skin. But I had already learnt that that hand could be hard, harsh, and painful. 

“You’re beautiful. Don’t try to hide. Don’t forget that this is the body that made you wince and scream yesterday, that made you come, the body that gives you all the sensations and emotions. Give me your wrists.”

I held my hands towards him. He grabbed them and started binding them together. His moves weren’t hurried; he took his time. My palms touched, and I watched the rope trailing around my wrists and getting tied into a firm knot with a length of rope hanging from it, leading into his hand like a leash. 

“How does it feel?”

I felt strangely calm. This was firm, but not painful. It felt safe. And it looked beautiful. I smiled. “It feels good.”

He smiled back. 

“Let’s play then,” he said, getting up and leading me to my bed. 

-----------------------------------------

“Now let’s see…” I heard, and something was stuffed into my mouth. I pulled away from it, but my head was held, and the object forced into my mouth. It was round and hard, a ball of some sorts and, once inside, it wouldn’t budge. Straps were buckled behind my head. 

“Little bitch doesn’t like her muzzle,” Josh said. 

“All bitches get used to it.” That was Marc speaking.

Then I heard Tom and knew that the hand on my back was his. “If you need your safe word, you have to go “ahm ahm ahm," three times, ok?”

I nodded, whatever little I could manage to move. I was scared. They were preparing something, and I had no idea what. 

Then I heard a count of three and felt myself hoisted upwards, which gave me the horrible sensation of an imminent fall. I screamed, and, free of their hands, tried to move, to protect myself. They laughed, but the panic wouldn’t let off. The ropes bit into me as they held me. I seemed to be swinging, and slowly grasped that I was suspended somewhere, and, although I could move and although my legs or arms were not actually tied together, I was dangling like a puppet on a string. 

The swinging slowed, and I struggled, trying to find a way to stabilise my position and getting my head up instead of down, avoiding getting my arms pulled backwards too much, avoiding the bite of the rope, and not succeeding. I fought, frantically, angry, and painfully. Nobody intervened, and the ropes held fast. My struggling prompted laughter and lewd comments, which stoked my anger. Soon tears were wetting my blindfold. 

Then, out of nowhere came a pain on my feet, as if a knife had cut into their soles. I screamed, although the ball in my mouth stifled it. My body reacted and once again I ended up fighting a useless struggle against the bonds that held me. The pain diminished slowly, but the fire stayed. Then came another horrible whipping sound, and it started again. Again on my feet, again flooding my whole body, again the biting in my skin. And again I fought it.

“It’s called a flogger, sweetie," I heard Tom say calmly. “I will use it on you until you let go. We’ll see how long that takes, angry bird.”

Another blow swished from below and hit my breasts, untouched by ropes and hence totally exposed. I raged, and heard another swishing sound, and fire broke out on my bottom. I raged and protested, my spit running down over my face as I tried to scream, to talk, to plead as the pain searing itself into my body. I tried to remove myself, away from Tom, away from the sound of the flogger, the laughter, and I knew I couldn’t. I still tried. 

Tom waited until I calmed, then hit again, this time on my back. The rage returned. I made sounds I didn’t think I’d ever produced before. I beat the air, pulled on my bonds, tried to catch my breath only to fight windmills all over again, unable to find a loophole that would get me out, unable to not rebel against the humiliation and the pain. 

My feet received several blows in a row, overwhelming me with the pain that flowed into the rest of my body. At the fourth or fifth whipping direct on my soles, I gave up. I would use the safe word, get of out this. I had to catch my breath, my will, my voice and managed to get out one non-screaming, croaking sound. I knew I’d have to try again.

But I didn’t. 

The second I had used to focus on something besides the pain and the grip of the ropes had done something to me. I didn’t want to use this way to get out. Tom’s voice came back into my mind, his calm instructions, telling me to breathe, to feel, to accept. I breathed. 

Tom must have sensed it, because I felt him waiting, watching. I knew what he must look like, the slightly mocking expression of his face, the intent gaze from his eyes, the way he would stop and observe. 

“Breathe, girl. Pain is your friend,” he had said. 

I waited for the next blow. It didn’t come. I still felt the burning sensation all over my body, felt the fire from what must have been a whip eating into me and moving around as if it had a life of its own. “It’s waves” my mind with Tom’s voice said. 

I realised I had completely tensed up. While focusing on breathing and feeling and waiting, I had unconsciously relaxed a little and this made me understand how much I had tensed up, as if my whole body was one taut knot. It was then, that I let go. I surrendered to the ropes, let them hold me, and found that when I didn’t fight them, their grip was equally distributed and much more bearable. 

And just then, the thing Tom used hit again. I realised that it wasn’t just a whip. There were too many stings at once, all over my back. I reacted by clenching up again, but this time, it only took me a little while to overcome the fighting reflex. I knew then that I wasn’t going to fall, wasn’t going to drown, that I was held and lifted and supported. I didn’t need to fight this. I let myself go, waiting for the next swishing sound which would announce more sensations. 

Each of them hurt in their own way, each burned me, made me tremble and scream – and each was another step into an encounter between me, myself and my body. Instead of hanging in ropes and fighting them, I was flying, totally submitting to what was done to me, totally trusting Tom’s voice, his real voice, and his voice in my mind.

I don’t know how long it lasted. I know there was no part of me that the whip hadn’t visited and set on fire. I know that I was dripping with tears, saliva, sweat, and juice from my burning pussy wanting relief and finding only pain. There was a hand caressing my hair and then turning my head sideways, and I imagined Tom’s searching look at my expression, beneath the blindfold and the gag. 

Something moved over my body, visiting it, soft and I recognised it as the instrument that had been used to inflict the pain. It felt soft, so soft, before it was lifted and brought down on me again, calmly and systematically. How could he be so calm when all of me was being burnt by his hand?

His hand on my face, his voice in my ear. Him, He, His. Tom. My mind was swirling, I felt drunk, exhausted, aroused, lost and found. There were more hands. I was lowered until I rested on a solid surface. Some of the ropes were untied, hands roamed my body, testing the wetness between my legs, rubbing their fingers in it. 

The ball in my mouth was removed, my head was lifted, and I was given a drink of cold water which tasted delicious in my dry mouth. 

I laid there, no strength left. 

Tom spoke to me, quietly. “So surrender feels good?”

I managed to nod.

“I am not done with you. But I want you to know that I am going to do this as often as you need it. Tell me, what are you?”

I didn’t know what to say. His words had a profound effect on me. No matter how good or bad I was, he was going to be there. 

“I am yours," I whispered. 

“That’s good enough for now,” he said, and there was a smile in his voice. 

I was again lifted and carried. then my burning body was put down, arranged, and tied eagle-spread on something. The upper part of my body was stretched on a soft surface, but there was nothing under the lower part of my belly, my pussy, and my legs. I heard a clicking sound and my head was lowered as my ass was raised. The ropes pulled at my wrists and ankles. 

This time I knew what was coming. I was going to get my brains fucked out, both in my pussy and in my ass. The position was as practical for them as it was humiliating for me. 

Exhausted, I heard Tom speak again. 

“Back to you.”

Someone began to finger and fondle me, immediately reviving me, or rather, the hunger that had built up in my pussy while I was being whipped out of my wits. My poor little pussy, whipped and fucked so hard today, raw and sensitive, and now prodded again. There was a buzzing sound and something pressed against my labia. Something was pushed inside me and the vibrations made me moan as the fingers continued to caress my raw flesh. 

A hand grabbed my hair, and there was Tom’s voice again. 

“You are not to come without permission, or you will have to pay for your disobedience.”

I didn’t want to disobey, not now. But I had an intense need, and felt the wave building up in me. 

The hand stroked my pussy, up and down, then disappeared. The weight of a body pressed on me and a hand covered my face, rubbing my pussy juice over my mouth, cheeks, nose. 

“That’s your juice, girl, your smell,” Marc teased and mocked. “Remember how you didn’t want to enjoy it? It’s all over you, little slut.”

I helplessly submitted, my nose filling with the scent of my pussy. 

Marc thrust his fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”

I did. I needed all of this so badly that I was now ready to obey these orders. 

He got off me with a satisfied “Good girl” and then his hand found my ass, playing with the plug. It had been in there so long that it felt like a part of me, but his game of pushing and pulling it awoke the circus of sensations once again. Unable to reason, I felt like I was made of emotions and senses only. 

He pulled the plug out and my ass was free. I moaned, but he wasn’t done. They weren’t done. 

His finger penetrated my brown hole, then a second one; and his voice pronounced satisfaction as to how much more open it had become. A third finger, slowly pushed in, then in and out, and it was then that I understood. He was going to fist my ass. 

He had done this to my pussy the night before and I heard my own scream echo in my mind. He was now going to do the same – there! He couldn’t do this, he would tear me apart, and I wriggled and struggled and tried to form a sentence. 

I was immediately rewarded with ten slaps on my bottom, which were painful to a point I wouldn’t have been able to imagine before. I began to feel that I couldn’t take it all any longer, that I was too drained, too tired, too wasted, but it was then that I felt Tom’s lips on mine. Soft, kind, and tender. 

“Trust me," he murmured into my mouth. 

And again, I let go.

Marc’s fingers were on and in my ass again, and he slowly stretched me further and farther. I don’t know how much of his hand was inside me as another wave of sensations and confusion washed over me. Tom, their hands, my ass, the vibrator doing its work in my pussy… I felt getting myself caught up in yet another strange world of pain and pleasure as Marc pushing his hand into me, tearing me apart while also massaging every sensible spot there was.

I didn’t know if I screamed from pain or from pleasure. He was inside me, exploring me and taking possession and I just know I screamed, and that earned another slap, and that I wasn’t allowed to lean into the orgasm building up within me but couldn’t stop. 

Then the pressure eased, and I realised he had withdrawn his hand, although I still felt his fingers inside me. 

“He is going to fuck you now,” Tom said. “And you are not allowed to come, remember?” He seemed to be sitting right next to me, with his hand in my hair and on my head. 

I moaned. Words were beyond me at this point. The vibe was taken off my pussy and then Marc’s cock slammed into me, making me rear against the ropes that held me. He fucked my pussy deep and hard, pulled out, spread my cheeks, and then fucked my ass. Offering little resistance, my ass felt lose and wide open and he seemed to enjoy it. Marc’s balls slapped against my skin and my orgasm built, stronger and stronger, until I became desperate both to let go and come and to resist and hold back. 

Tom must have seen my struggle. “Remember, remember, the 5th of November, the Gunpower Treason and plot," he sang into my ear. It was so absurd, but gave me his voice to hold on to. I had disappointed him today and didn’t want to do it again. 

“Oh, please," I ended up screaming. I so needed to cum. It had been building up for so long. 

“No.”

Marc’s body pressed me. He was sweaty and hot, and my stinging and burning body was crushed by his weight. “I’m going to come in you, girl, and you are not… ” he breathed.

I moaned from the effort of having to hold out. I had just learnt how not to hold on and now I wasn’t allowed to let go. It was hard, so hard. My whole body was tense again and I held on as his cock exploded in my ass, slamming his semen into me. I didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to respond. The wave felt like it would break any time.

“Tom…” I pleaded. 

“No.” 

“Please!”

“I said no.”

Marc slowly pulled out of me. “This isn’t a pussy, it’s a swimming pool!” he stated. 

I concentrated on breathing and holding still, while my tired body screamed in frustration, and while Josh replaced Marc behind me.

“Hi, girl," he greeted, as his hands wandered over my backside. “You’re quite a sight. You need to come? Oh, too bad…” 

His hand found my breast and squeezed. It was painful, as his touched revived the whip welts, but the stinging helped me keep control. Some of the orgasm wave quietened, but then he positioned his cock and pushed into me, and I screamed again. 

“Oh god, this pussy… “ Josh moaned. His reaction fired my desire. 

“You are NOT going to come now,” Tom warned. “You will come when I tell you to, and for me, not before.”

It was the first time I had to do anything of that kind. How could I hold on, stop this, when all I had done before was trying to ride that very same wave and happily accept it when it arrived? I knew I was crying into the blindfold from the sheer effort and the exhaustion. 

Josh moved from my pussy to my ass, my raw and widened brown hole that had been stretched beyond its limits. It was painful, yet my urge to come grew more intense with each thrust. Yet I managed to hold back until he ejaculated in my ass and pulled out, leaving me with an aching desire to come. 

I wanted another cock to take his place. 

I focused on not coming, not pressing my pussy against the surface of the apparatus I was on, on not doing anything that would add to the pressure, but I felt Tom get up and go behind me, position himself and run his hands over my back, over my sides, my breasts. He spread my cheeks, checking my pussy and ass with his fingers. 

“I think I know how Da Vinci must have felt when he was done with his Mona,” he said. “You are stunning, sweetie. It’s quite a picture. You are drenched to the core, and you’re trembling, and I know you’re waiting for me to let you come.”

He gathered the semen oozing from my ass and pussy. I heard him inhale and then felt him rubbing his hand and the mix of cum and my own juice into my skin. 

“Is there anything you’d like to say, my little slut?” He didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

There was so much I wanted to say to him. But I didn’t know what it was he wanted right then, what it would take to get him to relent and allow me to come. 

“I am so sorry, Master,” I tried.

“You have no idea just how sorry you’ll feel tomorrow.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. I tried again. “Thank you, Tom.”

“Thank you what for?” His voice was calm as usual, but I sensed I had struck the right cord this time. 

“For doing this to me.” 

“And what else?”

“Please, please, don’t let me go. Don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t.”

“And please give me your cock!” I wailed, unable to hold it back. 

His hands explored my back, my ass, probed my brown hole which felt strangely open. He wiggled his fingers into my pussy. 

“You are drenched, you’re open, you’re sore. It must be painful. Look at you, little girl. Nothing left of you, just a crying, begging, trembling little slut wanting my cock. Is this what you are? What you want to be?”

“Yes! This is all I want to be.” I couldn’t think anymore. I wanted him in me, to take me. The only thing that mattered. Him. 

Tom slammed his cock into me without warning. He fucked me deep and fast, until I felt I was going to explode – and then pulled out. 

“Come now, little slut," he ordered, fondling my pussy with his hand. I let go, used his hand as the road to paradise and felt the wave break and wash over me. My orgasm was strong, desperate, terrifying, and wonderful; it made me wail, feel like I was going to drown in it and like there was nothing else in the world. 

Warm wetness ran down my legs. I realised that Tom had stepped aside in order to allow them all to see my twitching, leaking pussy. I heard their comments, felt hands again, touching and collecting that wetness. I was exhausted and felt dizzy and simply couldn’t worry about being watched coming, being humiliated, or mocked. 

I was untied and the blindfold taken off. I collapsed to a heap on the floor, blinded by the light, and with my body trembling. 

“Isn’t there something missing, girl?”

I was hardly able to take the words in. 

“Is your Master satisfied?”

Then I got it. He hadn’t come. Had I disappointed him again? “I am sorry. I am so sorry.” 

He crouched next to my head. 

“Please,” I begged. “Just use me, tell me what to do, what you want.”

Tom knelt astride me, pinning my arms with his knees, and stuffed his cock in my mouth, pushing it deep, almost cutting off my breath, making me gag. 

“This mouth is for me, do you hear me? For me to stuff, for me to decide who you suck, for me to gag, for me to instruct when to speak or to shut up.”

His voice was still calm, but his cock was big and hot fucking my mouth. His thrusts choked me, making me cry, forcing me to gasp for air between plunges.

He pulled out. “Speak.”

“Yes, yes, yes…”

“Good.”

He moved down, raised his hand. He slapped my breasts. His hand was rough, the slap was hard. I bucked but was held down by his weight.

“Whose tits are these?”

“Yours! Yours!” 

“To bind them? To hurt them? To use nipple clamps on? To show to anyone I chose to? To let anyone I chose use them?

“Yes, Sir, yes.”

“Tell me about your pussy and your ass.”

“Yours, Tom, all yours, to do anything you want.”

“Will you come again without asking for permission?”

“No, no, I won’t. I promise.”

“Will you be available for me and anyone I chose anytime I decide?”

“Yes.”

“Will you accept without complaining whatever I tell you to wear or not to wear?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good, brat.” And with this, he moved down, pushed my legs up towards my head, leaned on them and fucked me. First my pussy, then my ass, until he came. 

The relief of receiving his hot cum, of having him in me, with me… his thrusts had set me to trembling as my body made its own waves again – of pain and of promises for other pleasures. 

“Well,” Marc said. “That was very enjoyable. To do and to watch. I guess you were right, and I can only bow my head to you, Master Tom.”

Tom smiled. “I think I got through to her today, maybe. Or else.”

“Yes, or else,” Marc said. “If else, please allow me join.”

“Of course.”

Josh had come over to me and wrapped me in a towel. 

“Put your arm around my shoulder," he instructed, wanting to lift me up. “You want her upstairs, I guess? Bedroom or living room?”

“Wait.” Tom looked at me. “I want you in the living room, my little brat. We’re not going to clean or arrange you. You’re going to stay this way, full of cum and disheveled. One huge mess for all of us to look at and enjoy.”

I nodded.

Josh moved to carry me, but was stopped by Tom. “I’m going to carry my little brat.”

As Tom gathered me in his arms and lifted me up, I knew I was happy.