“Are you nervous?”
Morgan dropped her car keys twice before finally sticking them in the zipper pocket of her purse. She wished for the fifth time since she’d left the apartment that she hadn’t worn her new boots. The first time in 4 inch heels was always murder.
“I’m not nervous. I’m – curious.” She grabbed the handle of her roll around cart and swung her bag over her shoulder. The wind picked up the edge of her sheer skirt and exposed her buttocks to the autumn air.
Gwen laughed, following close behind. “Well, just remember: you got yourself into this. I tried to talk you out of it.”
The two women moved towards the warehouse. Other people clad in black leather were milling about the double doors. The sound of music could dimly be heard from inside. The taller of the two, Morgan, wore a black corset that pushed her sizeable bosom so close to her chin; she could feel them jiggle with each step. Her brand new thigh high boots creaked at the knees, the narrow heels causing a sharp pain that ran up each calf as she climbed the steps to the front of the building. Gwen, the tiny red head trotted behind her, wearing a lacy black mini dress that Morgan suspected was actually a negligee.
Once inside, Morgan searched the throng of people dressed in black for Derek. It was her first time doing these charity raffle things and she needed to know the ground rules.
“There are ground rules, aren’t there?” she asked Gwen.
“How would I know? Paul doesn’t let me watch these things never mind take part in them.” Gwen scanned the moving masses. “Where is my dear lord and master, anyway?”
“You’re going to have to watch my stuff while they hold the raffle. I have to be on stage with Derek and the rest of them – there he is!” Morgan pushed her way past scantily clad people holding drinks, huddled in conversational clutches and moved towards the main platform.
Master Derek was tall, dark and very young for a man with his reputation. He’d been voted Leather Man of several southern states and became an immediate sensation when he reached the east coast. The line of submissive females waiting to play with him was staggering. The number of disappointments once they learned he preferred the male variety was just as impressive.
“Derek! I tried to get here earlier, but it was hell getting out of the city,” Morgan started to say, but Derek raised one finger while he perused a legal pad scribbled with illegible names. Finally he nodded and looked up at her.
“You’re fucking late.” He turned to a young blonde boy dressed only in black jeans sitting on a bar stool nearby. The boy handed him a felt tip pen. “I needed you here earlier to go over the guidelines for tonight’s auction.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “I thought it was a raffle.”
“Raffle, auction. What the fuck does it matter? You’re late.”
“Okay, okay. So what did I miss?”
Derek continued to rifle through the pages of the legal pad, checking off several names. He turned to the boy and said, “Where the hell is Leo? Did anyone call to remind the bastard he’s on the block tonight?”
Gwen tugged at Morgan’s bare arm. “I think I see Paul. I’ll be right back.” Like a pixie she disappeared into the leather clad crowd.
Morgan realized Derek was speaking to her. She quickly turned back to him and tried to catch up.
He was saying, “we’ve got twenty-six people on the block tonight. You’re number eleven. And you’re one of only three dommes up for grab tonight. “
“Okay,” Morgan made a mental note to be aware she was number eleven. “So what do I do?”
Derek smiled, his dark eyes flashing. “Nothing. Stand there and look desirable.”
“Do you know who’s bid on me? I’d like to get an idea of who I’m dealing with.”
Derek handed the list to the blonde boy and shrugged, “all I know is you’re a hot item tonight. Thirty-two people bought bidding tickets for you. I’m really glad you finally agreed to do one of these.”“ He smirked and tugged on her dark locks. “A lot of people want a piece of your ass.”
Morgan wasn’t flattered or amused. “Funny. I just want to know what kind of subs I’m up against. I don’t want any of those icky subs who want their balls stepped on or who just wanna crawl around and be told they’re worthless.”
Derek laughed. “Yeah, well, you don’t have a choice now, do you?”
Morgan laughed and glanced about at the noisy crowd. “You wanna bet?”
The smile slipped from Derek’s face. “Seriously, Morgan. You don’t have a choice. Whoever wins the raffle gets to play with you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to play their way.”
“Yes, you do.” Derek folded his sleek arms across his chest. “The way we do this is anyone can bid on anyone up for auction. Dom, sub, male or female. And whoever holds the winning raffle ticket calls the shots.”
“Whoa!” Morgan grabbed Derek’s forearm. His eyes dropped and stared at her hand. Slowly she lifted her hand and took a step back. “Anyone can bid on me? But I’m a dominant.”
Derek snickered and nodded. “Yes, Morgan. But if another Dom, male or female has the winning ticket then they call the shots. They can play with you any way they want.”
“You mean they can bottom to me any way they want.”
Derek slowly shook his head, his black curls bobbing in his face. “Noooooo – they can bottom or top you. And if a sub has the winning ticket, male or female, they can bottom or top if they want. Them’s the rules.”
Morgan looked ill. “The rules suck!”
A slow smile spread across Derek’s face. “You agreed to the rules when you signed the application for the auction back in July. I asked you if you were sure you wanted to do this.”
“Yeah, but wait! What about consent? The bottom line was that this was completely consensual.”
Derek nodded, “Right. But then there’s consent and then there’s given consent. You know how that works.”
Morgan’s corset felt way too tight. “Please: refresh my memory.”
Derek sighed and stared straight ahead. He spoke as if reciting a grocery list from memory.
“The person with the winning ticket cannot take the prize home without his or her consent. They can’t expect sexual intercourse or oral without your consent. They can’t lend you out to others without your consent. However, given consent is already assumed as a willing participant of the charity auction. By agreeing to be a willing participant you agree to play on the terms of the winner, allowing them to fully enjoy their prize without being a friggin’ stick in the mud, cry baby, sore loser.”
Morgan fought the urge to pout. “Derek, there happens to be a few people around here who would love to make a fool of me. You can’t give them free reign to do whatever they want!”
“I’m not, Morgan. That’s why we have guidelines. And if you have enemies in this community, then it’s your own fucking fault. You shouldn’t be so friggin’ high and mighty, always bragging about your high standards as a dominant.” Derek pulled the blonde boy to his feet and began to walk away. He turned and moved his face closer to Morgan’s.
“And you had better not pull any shit tonight, Morgan. These people paid twenty bucks for every raffle ticket they bought. I know for a fact some of them bought as many as seven for you alone. That’s a lotta money so don’t fuck up. I mean it!”
Derek and his boy strode away. Morgan glanced over her shoulder at the people standing about, waiting for the auction to begin. Some of them held handfuls of colorful tickets like children at an amusement park arcade waiting to claim a prize.
“Sonovabitch,” she hissed.
The auction was painfully slow to proceed. Morgan stood with more than two dozen other participants, some she knew and a few she’d never seen before, as Derek grabbed the microphone and played master of ceremonies, ushering each one out by turn and offering their skills to the audience.
“Welcome everyone, to Cirque d’Noir’s annual charity auction! We’ve a long list of promising prizes waiting to be used and abused so we’re going to begin in a few moments. Please if you haven’t made your bids yet, there are slaves walking around selling tickets. Make those bids now. And if you’ve already made bids, keep in mind this is a charity auction! All proceeds will go to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital so please bid some more! The more tickets you buy, the better your chances of winning the person you want for the night!”
Morgan felt uncomfortable as she waited for her number to come up. She was standing next to a book mark of a woman wearing nothing more than patent leather strips covering her privates. Morgan felt as if her hips were spreading, getting wider by the second. Her corset seemed to bulge over her waist, exposing every roll and wrinkle. This was a mistake, she thought. Derek was right. I’ve got a big mouth, she thought. She spotted several female dominants who’d love to watch her squirm. They were all holding tickets. Could they have bid on her just to make her suffer in public? Am I that much of a jerk, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized Derek had called on number ten.
“Here we have Haley, a lovely little pain slut I’ve personally beaten. I can promise you her tolerance for pain is high, but her ability to control herself is low. Let’s see who the winning bidder is.”
The blonde boy rolled a plastic bingo ball that sat on a chair on the main platform. Haley, a plump girl in her early twenties stood uncomfortably clutching at her short black dress. Morgan spotted a tear in the girl’s black stockings just below her chubby knee.
The colorful raffle tickets spun three times and the boy reached in, plucking a yellow ticket from the bowl. He handed it to Derek, turning his back to him, baring his leather sheathed buttocks.
“And the winner is: “ Derek used both hands to slap out a drum roll on his boy’s ass. “Mistress Raven! Raven, come collect your eager prize.”
Morgan noted that Haley looked disappointed as the large woman stuffed into a black lace cat suit led her from the stage.
“And next is number eleven,” Derek shouted, sounding more like a game show host than a leather master. “Number eleven, step up to the platform.”
Morgan stepped up without hesitation. The flood lights hit her and she suddenly realized her skirt was too short, her legs too heavy and her breasts were nearly popping out of their leather cage. She swallowed hard and blinked at the crowd.
“Here we have the lovely Lady Morgana, a lusty dominant, ready to be pawned off to a lucky bidder. “
Derek’s boy reached into the bingo ball and pulled out an orange ticket and handed it to Derek. Derek turned the ticket over and silently read the name. His face split into a wide, toothy smile.
“And the winner is –William Glenn! Will, step up and collect your prize.”
The crowd broke into a series of cheers and jeers. Morgan’s heart beat faster. Who the hell was William Glenn? She peered into the audience, looking for the man with the winning ticket.
Out of a sea of black leather and bare flesh, a large man stepped forward. He was wearing what could only be described as a Hawaiian shirt, aqua and yellow in color and a pair of chinos. Morgan flinched. This was someone she didn’t recognize. He didn’t even look like he belonged at this gathering. His hair was sun-bleached curls, hanging well below his collar. His beard was dark and grizzled. The lights flickered off the thick lenses of his glasses as he stepped up to the platform.
A grinning Derek grabbed the man’s hand and helped him onto the stage. He was a big man. A very big man. His chest was broad and the suggestion of a pot belly pressed against the colorful shirt he wore. Up close, he looked older than Morgan first thought. From the audience, she thought he looked like a college student. Closer he reminded her more of a college professor.
“Will, congratulations. The Lady Morgana is yours for the night.” Derek put a gentle arm around Morgan’s shoulders. When she didn’t budge, he dragged her forward, her boots skittering on the wooden floor.
William Glenn simply smiled and gestured with one hand for Morgan to follow him. Morgan looked up at the audience and could see Gwen and Paul standing in the back by the bar. Gwen waved and motioned towards Morgan’s roll cart to show her she had her bags in safe keeping. Morgan blew a puff of air across her lips in disgust as she trailed behind the man who won her for the night.
Time to slave
She followed the bright design of the shirt on his broad back through the boisterous crowd. The auction continued behind her. Morgan refused to look at the faces of the people watching as she passed them. She knew there were a number of them laughing as she was led through the warehouse like a pet collie.
When the man finally stopped at a table where a slighter man in jeans and a black tee shirt sat, Morgan tapped his shoulder. He turned and looked at her with curiosity.
“Listen, I just want to get something straight.”
“Nobody gave you permission to speak.”
Morgan blinked and stared at him. His eyes were a frosty blue behind the wire frame glasses. His expression was benign.
“Right. I’m just trying to get a few things straightened out before we go any further.”
The big man turned to the other man and motioned with his hand. The man in the tee shirt pulled a leather bag off the floor and began to rifle through its contents.
Glenn repeated himself. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”
Morgan nodded, “Fine, but I need to explain something.”
His meaty hand reached out and slapped her on the left cheek. Morgan gasped. A tiny fire bloomed on that side of her face.
“You’re to speak only when I ask you to speak.” William Glenn, the man with the winning ticket, turned back to his friend who had retrieved a slender piece of leather from the bag. Glenn took it and held it up in front of Morgan’s eyes.
It was a black leather collar.
Without thinking, Morgan said, “I’m not a submissive.”
The hand struck her again. This time tears glittered in her green eyes.
“Tonight, you belong to me. Come here.” He motioned again with one hand for Morgan to come forward. The gentle smile never left his face.
Morgan opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. She stepped forward, straining not to breathe too hard. Her mind was racing furiously. Where the fuck was Derek?
Glenn placed the collar around her neck. He produced a tiny black lock from his pocket and clasped it in place. Morgan flinched when she heard the snick of the tumblers connecting.
Glenn’s companion pulled a braided leather lead from the bag and handed it to him. He attached the lead to a dee ring on the collar and gave it a tug, pulling Morgan towards him.
In her four inch heels she was nearly the same height as he was. Her eyes met his and she was startled by how riveting they were. An icy blue, but kind and soft looking, they never strayed from her face. His face was broad and young looking, but traces of gray in his beard and at his temples suggested he wasn’t too young. His long honey blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail. Morgan gasped when she realized his hand was sliding down her waist and curving over her buttocks.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said, turning her around.
His big hand cupped her buttocks and he patted her ass. Morgan winced as the flesh jiggled. She regretted again wearing the wispy mesh skirt over nothing but a thong.
“Nice.” He squeezed one butt cheek. “I like a meaty bottom.” Morgan whirled around to look at him, but he’d turned to his tee shirted companion who handed him some straps of leather.
Glenn turned to Morgan holding up several wide bands of leather and buckles. “Turn around,” he ordered.
Morgan stared at the contraption in his hands. “I’d feel a lot better if we could lay down some ground rules here.”
His hand swatted her face again. For a moment Morgan was stunned.
“You don’t learn easily. Now turn around.”
This time a single tear did leak from her eye as she turned her back to him. He pulled her arms behind her and locked them into the leather straps, one forearm over the other. Two bands of leather encircled her upper arms and were latched by connecting straps. It was uncomfortable, but tolerable. He twirled her around and cast an approving eye over her breasts. Several thick fingers probed her cleavage, folding back the leather cups of her corset, exposing her nipples. Morgan was shocked for a moment to see them so hard and vulnerable looking.
He flicked a finger at one nipple making her jump. “These need something.” The man in the tee shirt handed him a hinged leather box. Glenn opened it. A display of jeweled nipple clamps was laid out on the golden satin lining of the box. He chose a pair with alternating red and green crystals dangling from them. Morgan watched with apprehension as he slowly attached them to her nipples. The flesh surrounding her nipples felt tight as if it was winding in a spiral around the clamps.
Glenn gave a tug on the leash and pulled Morgan along his side. He plopped himself down in a chair near a small table. He hauled her across his lap, face down. Morgan couldn’t help but grunt as her belly flopped across his knees. His hand slid under her skirt and gently kneaded her buttocks. Glenn’s friend spoke for the first time. Morgan could hear his voice floating somewhere above her head as she stared at the floor beneath the big man’s feet.
“Will, want me to see what they’re serving at the grill?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his finger tracing the crotch of her panties, pressing against her anus. “See if they have chicken fingers or something like that. And get us something to drink. I’m really dry.”
His finger stretched across the material between her legs and Morgan found her breath coming in short gasps. He began to trace the outline of the lips of her vulva pressing against her panties. She moaned, mortified as she felt moisture escape her and spread across the crotch of her thong. He chuckled above her and patted her twat several times before massaging her vulva with what felt like genuine affection.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
A flame of rage flared in Morgan’s mind. Her face felt hot. How the fuck dare he? She couldn’t believe the gall of the man, holding her twat like a baseball in that big mitt of a hand of his. She shifted her weight, but he gripped her tighter putting pressure on her aching clit. Heat filled her groin and Morgan managed to strangle a moan before it escaped her throat.
She could hear voices nearby. To her horror, she actually recognized one of them. Two men were standing very close by and they were addressing Glenn. Morgan felt as if she were completely naked lying across the big man’s lap.
“Hey, Will! Nice to see you on the east coast again. How’s it been?”
The other man, the one she was sure she knew had a more nasal voice and a heavy New York accent.
“Yeah, long time no see! What brings you all the way back here?”
The man went by the handle of Master Wayne and he expected everyone, male or female, to call him “sir.” Of course, Morgan always referred to him as “Wayne” and never once addressed him as “sir.” He went nowhere without his patchwork leather vest and his Doc Martin ass kicker boots. Although Morgan couldn’t turn to see him standing there, she could picture the over head lights bouncing off his bald head.
Glenn’s deep voice rumbled on about passing through on his way to Canada when Master Wayne interrupted him.
“So what’cha got there? See you won yourself a dom-may.”
Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed.
“This is my toy for the evening,” Glenn said, patting her ass. The impact of his hand on her butt cheek made an obnoxiously loud slapping sound. Morgan nearly bit the tip of her tongue.
Wayne snickered. “Yeah, maybe you’ll let me take a crack at her later on? You gonna put her to good use?”
Glenn’s fingers tickled her ass. “I’m sure she’ll be very useful tonight.”
Wayne’s voice rose to a shout. “You don’t look too comfortable, Morgan. How you doing? Ya comfortable there, Morgan?” He spoke as if she was so far across the room she might have trouble hearing.
“She’s been instructed not to answer unless given permission.” Glenn’s voice had a frost to it.
“Yeah, well, good to see you, Will.” Morgan waited for the annoying man to leave. “Maybe we’ll stop by and watch you scene.” She could feel him lingering for a moment before moving on. Glenn didn’t say goodbye.
A moment later, Glenn slapped her ass and said, “sit up.” She quickly sprung to her feet only to be hauled back onto his lap, her cheek close to his. He playfully spanked her breasts making the nipple clamps feel like winches gripping at her teats. He ran his hand up along her throat and cupped her chin, gently tracing her mouth with one finger. Morgan’s eyes were fixated on his face. He looked so gentle. He forced her mouth open and slid his finger in. She could taste the salt on his skin.
“Now suck on it like a good girl,” he whispered into her ear.
Morgan’s first inclination was to clamp her teeth down on his finger. She stared at the icy flecks in his blue eyes and thought better of it. Her lips closed around his finger and she slowly sucked.
“Good girl,” he cooed. Morgan felt her heart beat a little faster.
His friend returned with a tray of food and Morgan made note, only two frosty glasses of some beverage. Glenn continued to watch her suck on his finger and then gently withdrew the digit, sliding it over her lower lip, moistening it with her own saliva. His other hand tangled itself in her hair and pulled her head close to his. He pressed his mouth over hers, slightly bruising her lips.
When he finally released her, Morgan drew in a sharp breath. Casually Glenn leaned forward and grabbed one glass, taking a long draft of the fluid. Tiny drops of cold liquid spilled onto her naked thighs. Morgan smelled birch beer.
“Derek says he’ll have a station ready for you in about twenty minutes, Will.” The other man was seated, tearing into what looked like a tuna melt. Morgan realized she hadn’t eaten before she’d left. Sitting in front of Glenn’s place was a towering plate of chicken tenders. A small lotus bowl of what could only be honey mustard sat next to the plate like a lone sentinel. Morgan’s stomach made an audible growl.
Through conversation, while the two men ate which didn’t include her, Morgan learned that the man in the black tee shirt was named Ben and that Glenn was his mentor. Ben had a submissive he was working with who was several years older than him and had some experience. Ben, on the other hand, had just gotten involved in SM and was literally just learning the ropes. Derek’s blonde boy wonder showed up at the table. His chest bore fresh stripes from a single tail. He informed the two men that Glenn’s station had opened up.
Ben immediately stood and began to gather up the three leather bags that were lying on the floor. Glenn slid one hand between Morgan’s thighs and inserted his index finger between her panty crotch and her flesh.
“This is going to get in the way. You don’t need this do you?” She was startled to realize he was addressing her. He repeated the question, “do you need this?”
Morgan shrugged and shook her head, unsure of how to answer. With that he removed a large hunting knife from a sheath attached to his leg. He slid the cold blade against her thigh and neatly sliced the leg band of her panties. Morgan gasped. He pulled her to her feet and sheared off the other leg band. Her black panties fell to the floor like a dead leaf.
While Morgan stared at her useless underwear, Glenn replaced the knife and spoke to Ben. “Find my fur plug, will you?” Morgan’s head snapped forward. Fur plug?
After some rummaging through one of the bags, Ben produced what looked like a fuzzy white and brown ball. He handed it to Glenn who held it up for Morgan’s inspection. A slow horror spread over her. It was a butt plug with a large, fluffy rabbit’s tail attached. Ben also produced a box of rubber gloves from the bag and pulled one out for Glenn.
Without hesitation, Glenn bent her over the table. Ben had handed him something else. Seconds later Morgan felt the cold, wet sensation of greasy lube being applied to her anus. She grunted as Glenn’s cigar like fingers probed her. She then yelped audibly as he inserted the plug firmly between her buttocks. He took some time to adjust the plug and fluff up the tail to his satisfaction. He then pulled her to her feet for inspection.
Morgan was unwilling to lift her head. She could feel the many eyes on her. Her face was hot and she was angry. Her mind was racing. She could put a stop to this right now. This was beyond what she’d signed up for with this ridiculous little game. Charity, my ass. This was humiliating and she had a strong suspicion that Derek had set her up to teach her a little lesson. Any other dominant wouldn’t put up with this, she thought, when she realized that Ben had bent down on his knees in front of her and was fastening something to her ankles.
A pair of leather cuffs had been wrapped around her ankles and were attached by mere inches of leather. She had been hobbled.
Glenn tugged at her leash and propelled her forward. She could barely walk with her high heeled boots, now she had to take tiny Geisha like steps as they moved through the crowds. Morgan kept her head lowered, painfully aware of the plug in her ass and the bunny tail that bobbed behind her, tickling her bare buttocks. She heard whispers and snickers as she nearly tiptoed past people who seemed to move in slow motion. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She watched the floor beneath her feet and saw that they were moving into another room. She lifted her eyes as they into what was known as the “Cave.”
The Cave was the largest playroom in the Cirque d’Noir warehouse. It was for private use and reserved for Derek’s more elite friends. Morgan had never played in here herself, but had often stood outside the room, watching through the large window opening with dozens of other eager spectators. Only the best played in the Cave.
Ben was already setting up the station, pulling various leather implements from the bags at his feet. A whipping post dripping with chains stood in the middle of the room and Glenn led her straight to it. She stared up at the padded post and spoke without thinking.
“I’m not a masochist.”
Glenn’s hand shot out and slapped her on the cheek.
“Could have fooled me,” he smiled. He drew the highest chain from the post and snapped it to a dee ring on Morgan’s collar. He then pulled down chains with cuffs attached and pulled Morgan closer. His face was close to hers as he slid the cuffs around her wrists. He hoisted them above her head and hooked them to the post with a double end snap. Grabbing her chin in his hand, he kissed her roughly on the mouth. Morgan’s lips tingled.
She had to crane her neck around to see what Ben was removed from the bag. Lined up on a bench were several whips and paddles. Morgan could feel beads of sweat at her hairline. A crowd was pressing against the window, anonymous faces filling the space. Morgan heard a male voice shout out, “make her ass good and red, Will! Make her bleed!” The corner of Glenn’s mouth twisted into a smirk, but he didn’t reply.
Morgan’s mouth had gone dry. She could feel a cold panic spreading across her brain. Of all the times she’d tried out new toys on bottoms, she’d never really tried them out on herself. She took the word of vendors who told her “this is a vicious little toy” or “this one has some real bite.” She had prided herself on being a cruel and ruthless mistress. Now faced with having her own hide tanned by someone she didn’t know, her eyes began to tear. This was so unfair. How could she call this thing off without making a fool of herself in front of everyone?
Derek’s voice floated up from behind her. “You finding everything to your liking, Master Will?”
Glenn was slipping his hand into a fingerless leather glove. He glanced up and smiled. “Everything is fine, Derek. Everything is good.”
Derek raised his voice as he addressed Morgan. “How about you, Morgan? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Morgan had to catch her breath before she could speak. “Fuck you, Derek!” She could hear the terror in her voice and hoped no else did.
There was a burst of laughter from the crowd behind her. Even Glenn chuckled. Morgan propped her forehead against the leather padding of the post. She felt several tears slide down her face.
Close by she heard the whistling crack of a whip. Her body went rigid. She slid her eyes in the direction of the sound and saw Glenn trying out a shiny, black signal whip. He placed it on the bench next to his other weapons. She watched as he perused the arsenal of leather laid out before him and chose a heavy cowhide flogger. He hefted it in his hands for a moment and then walked up to the post. Morgan quickly focused her attention on the leather padding again.
Glenn slid the flogger around her neck and pulled her backward. He moved close to her. She could feel his beard on her neck. He whispered softly in her ear.
“What are you so worried about?” His breath lifted the hairs at the nape of her neck. “You think I’m some kind of sadist?”
Morgan strangled back a laugh. It sounded more like a sob. Glenn pulled the flogger away and ran a hand down her back. Morgan’s leather corset, a custom order from a California seamstress, was wide open in the back. The seamstress had told her it would push her ample bosom up and out, making her irresistible. Morgan wished it had been reinforced with chainmail, making it both shark proof and flogger proof. She shuddered as she felt the cold leather of the flogger being pressed against her skin as Glenn caressed her naked back with the whip.
He took several steps back and laid the flogger’s flails along her flesh. The first strike startled her but didn’t hurt. She felt a slight sting where the tips of the flails struck. The second strike hit the opposite side of her back. Each flail seemed to touch the flesh individually. She felt her skin warming, the bite of the leather becoming more intense. But there was no pain, no life-threatening agony that she had anticipated. In fact, it felt good. It felt wonderful.
Glenn smacked her ass with the flogger and that made her yelp. The flesh was more sensitive there. He hit the other cheek and she cried out again. Morgan was angry with herself. Mustn’t let them see it hurts, mustn’t show them weakness, she thought. Her ass was burning and just when she thought she couldn’t handle another blow, the flogger moved upwards again to her quickly reddening back.
The heat rippled down her body and Morgan’s breathe quickened with each strike. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth and gripped the chains attached to the cuffs with her fingers. She could feel her clit swelling and tightening.
The beating stopped and Glenn ran his hand along her back. The sensation thrilled her. He dropped the flogger to the floor and enveloped her with his huge arms. Cupping her breasts in his hands he hugged her to him. She could feel the buttons of his colorful shirt digging into her sore back.
“Good girl,” he said in an approving voice. “That’s my baby girl.”
Morgan sighed. Her pussy was moist.
Ben handed Glenn another tool. Morgan could see it out of the corner of her eyes. She kept her forehead pressed against the thick padding of the whipping post. It felt safe to her. The weapon she saw pass into Glenn’s hand was something she’d never handled. In the back of her mind the word “Tomcat” drifted up from a well of information she’d stored over the years. “Oh, lord,” she whispered beneath her breath.
The Tom was a wicked collection of braided leather flails ending in nasty looking pointed edges. Morgan began to visibly tremble at the sight of the thing. Now is the time to end this charade, she thought.
Glenn lifted the Tom and the tips licked at her back, a very different sensation from the flogger. It had a mean bite. Her eyes watered and she clung to the chains, the metal biting into her palms. Glenn flicked the whip up and down her back, never striking the same place twice. Her skin felt raw and vibrant. As the Tom moved over her buttocks, an involuntary squeal escaped Morgan’s lips. She heard a loud guffaw from the audience at the window. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. It was over quickly and she sighed as she felt Glenn’s hand stroking the wounded flesh.
He was behind her, his mouth near her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s my girl. You look so beautiful like that, all tense and shaking.”
Morgan whimpered. Her clit felt like there was a tiny noose strangling it. She wanted him to run his lips along her back, kiss the soreness away. She felt his lips on her shoulder, too swift and brief. He cupped one buttock and gave it a squeeze and moved away.
From behind her someone shouted, “nice color!” Morgan spat back, “fuck you.” She leaned against the post and breathed deeply through her nose. Her back felt as if it was on fire.
She became aware of a sharp whipping sound, like something cutting into the wind. She glanced to her left and saw Glenn brandishing a bamboo cane, sharply slicing the air with it. The sound was alarming.
Glenn stepped to the post. He caught Morgan’s eye and smiled. She moaned and closed her eyes. She felt his hand on her shoulder and heard him whisper, “Stick your ass out, baby girl.”
Morgan had forgotten about the hobbles. She nearly fell backwards as she tried to back away from the post. She got her hips out and bent forward, leaning against the post. Her ass felt horribly vulnerable.
Glenn placed his hand on her back. The heat from his palm intensified the burning sensation she felt on her flesh. He began to gently tap the cane along her buttocks and led the cane down to her thighs. Morgan drew in a sharp breath. The bite of the cane wasn’t sharp, but her skin was raw. When the cane struck her thighs she hissed. The flesh was like warm clay there. She could feel the cane leave its imprint. The whipping continued, growing in intensity and speed. Morgan moaned audibly. The stinging sensation quickly became unbearable. In spite of the hobbles, she found herself dancing in place, unable to avoid the cane’s assault.
Glenn ceased the caning and slapped her butt cheeks with his gloved hand. Morgan wailed, “Ow!” and several spectators laughed. Even Glenn laughed: a deep, dark chuckle. He stroked her hair with his free hand. Morgan found the gesture unbearably tender.
Glenn picked up his next weapon and Morgan felt her knees buckle. The signal whip dangled from his meaty hand like a sleeping snake. Morgan had never used a single tail whip let alone felt one. She’d watched many a scene at Cirque d’Noir where some poor unfortunate submissive’s back was laid open by what could only be described as a flexible leather knife. The worst she’d seen was an older female dominant slice into a young male, a spray of blood painting the walls and audience alike. She wrapped the chains around her fingers and buried her face against the leather padding.
Glenn cracked the whip in the air close to Morgan’s head. She could feel her hair fly with the percussion. The sound of the whip breaking the sound barrier was deafening. Her ears rung. Tears threatened again and her face felt steamy.
The first lash bit into her shoulder. Morgan gasped. It was a quick sting that left a trail of heat on her flesh. He flicked the whip along her back and Morgan cried out louder. The pain wasn’t as terrible as she had anticipated, but her fear had grown to a sizable lump in her throat. She was aware that her knees were shaking and she held onto the chains for support. Glenn traced her back up and down on both sides of her spine. The whip sometimes fell with the sharpness of a blade and other times a biting kiss on her skin. Each time it fell, Morgan shuddered and cried out.
Glenn moved the trail of the whip down to her buttocks. Now Morgan jumped as it snapped against her raw butt cheeks. She’d forgotten all about her delicate dignity and was squealing like a frightened pig. There were excited shouts and caterwauls from the audience behind her, but she hardly heard them. She writhed with each fall of the whip, nearly falling as her ankles twisted against the leather hobbles. Glenn caught her with one arm under her ribcage. Her breath was coming in short gasps.
He pulled her close to his chest and ran his hand along her ass. Her flesh ached against the warmth of his palm, but she felt secure in his grasp. He pressed his mouth against her ear.
“You can take a little more for me, baby girl. Can’t you? Just a little more?”
Morgan swallowed hard and nodded. Her clit burned and her pussy was dripping wet. She struggled to regain her footing and he helped ease her onto the post. His lips pressed against her cheek, wet with tears and she moaned, leaning into his kiss.
He stepped back and lashed at her buttocks again and again. Morgan yelped with each bite of the whip. Her eyes were clenched shut and sweat dripped down her neck, gathering in her cleavage. She was determined to tolerate the whip until he was through. She wanted him to touch her again, lay his hands on her, caress her neck with his mouth.
A fierce fire ravaged her flesh as the whipping ended. Glenn tossed the single tail aside and grabbed both her buttocks, gathering up the cheeks, gripping them tight. Morgan threw her head back and howled. The pain was exquisite. He slid his hands around her belly and grabbed her breasts from behind. He wrenched them, his mouth pressing against her shoulder. She felt his teeth gently dig into her flesh. She pushed her sore ass up against his groin. His erection felt like a brick.
There was a smattering of applause from the audience as Glenn and Ben unchained her and drew her away from the post. Morgan thought she sensed an air of disappointment from some of the witnesses to her first and only scene as a bottom. Her hands ached and she opened them. She could see the outline of the chains on her palms where she had held them so fiercely. Ben removed her hobbles and Glenn pulled her towards him. He sat down, hauling her onto his lap. The butt plug dug into her but she ignored it, leaning against his wide chest. His mouth encircled the flesh of her cheek. She could feel his teeth gently indent her skin.
“What a good girl,” he purred. He patted her wet twat and held her close. Moaning, Morgan turned her face to him and found his mouth. He forced his tongue past her lips and she thought his saliva was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted.
The remainder of the night she spent in Glenn’s lap. At one point he turned her over his knee and removed the plug, massaging her rectum with his thumb. He left her dangling over his knees, stroking her buttocks like he would a pet dog. Morgan simply lay there, limp. Her bruised buttocks burned. She actually felt content and for the first time that night, completely safe.
The warehouse was growing quiet and Glenn patted her ass.
She struggled to her feet. He removed her cuffs one at a time, placing them on the table. Ben whisked them away, storing them in one of the leather bags.
When he was done he took her face in his massive hands and kissed her on the mouth. Morgan kept her eyes open. She felt a little dazed.
“I know I enjoyed this,” he said, running his thumb over her lower lip. “Thank you for a lovely night.”
He released her face and turned away. Ben hefted two of the bags and Glenn hoisted the other over his shoulder. He chucked Morgan under her chin and winked as the two men walked past her.
Morgan stood for a moment unsure of what to do. Her hand fled to her face, stroking her mouth and chin. She ran her hand down her throat where it fell on the locked collar Glenn had placed on her neck earlier.
“Wait!” She called after him. She ran through the crowd, looking for the back of the colorful Hawaiian shirt as it receded through the throngs of men and women dressed in black. Glenn was nearly at the door when he turned, an inquisitive look on his face. “Master Will?”
He smiled. “You can call me Will.”
She stared into his eyes. They were azure crystals in the dim lights of the doorway.
“Oh, okay – Will,” she fingered the leather strap around her neck. “You forgot this.”
He nodded, “you want me to remove it?”
Morgan laughed nervously. “Well, you do have the key.”
Glenn nodded again and set his bag on the floor. “Do you want me to take those off too?” He motioned to her breasts.
Morgan glanced down. She’d forgotten about the nipple clamps. The moment her eyes fell on them they seemed to grip her nipples even tighter.
“Oh, shit,” she laughed and immediately regretted swearing in front of him. His eyes glittered and a small smile played at his lips. “Uh, yeah. I guess I should take them off.” She moved to remove the clamps.
Glenn grabbed her hands. “You’d better let me do that.”
Obediently, Morgan allowed her arms to fall at her sides. Glenn placed one hand under her breast and removed the first clamp. As the blood rushed back into the tissue, Morgan felt a wave of agony travel from her nipple up into her jaw and down to her groin. Her knees gave out and she gasped. Glenn caught her in his arms. He palmed her breast and began to massage the nipple.
“You okay?” He turned her around so her back was pressed against his body. His arms surrounded her. A delicious warmth filled her cunt and her clit screamed for relief. Morgan nodded, moaning. She was panting.
“You ready for me to remove the other one?”
She signed and shook her head no. She heard him laugh. He pulled her close and said, “take a deep breath, baby.”
Morgan inhaled. When her nipple was released the pain was incredible. She fell back against him and heard herself cry out, “ohmigod!” Glenn gripped her breast and rubbed the nipple between his thumb and fingers. He kissed the back of her neck, his beard scrubbing her skin.
“That’s my girl,” She threw her head back and allowed the waves of sensation to wash over her. He found her mouth and pulled her close. She was gripping his hands, pulling them tighter around her, pressing them against her throbbing nipples.
Glenn slid his lips down her throat, catching her chin between his teeth. He pressed his face against hers and whispered, “do you still want me to take off the collar?”
Morgan clung to the big man’s arms and breathed back, “please – don’t.”
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