I hate being blindfolded. I hate it so good. Deprived of any kind of control, I can’t even see what’s coming to anticipate it. I find it scarier than being bound. At least when I’m restrained I have an idea of what’s to come, there are limits.
Today, there are no limits.
Just naked me in a blindfold waiting facing the wall of the dungeon for whatever might come next. I know where I am because Sir let me see that much before he deprived me of my sight. He certainly has something special planned. I could see it in the sparkle in his eye.
I hate waiting. I hate it so good. Anticipation is a drug and I love it, want it, crave it but oh, it’s painful when you keep on wanting, needing, wondering without an end in sight. It’s not like having a present you know you only have to keep until your birthday. This anticipation has no fixed end. It’s torture.
The door clicks, I prick up my ears. How many people enter? Sir is happy to share me, I’m happy to be shared. Is today one of those days or is it just him and me? I try to work out but I can’t hear a thing. Damn, thick blindfold. It’s over my ears and muffling that sense too.
“Hands against the wall, legs wide.”
I comply immediately. Thankful to have the support of the cold brick wall beneath my hands.
The familiar bite of leather thongs on exposed back makes me smile. This is something I know, this is something I like, this is familiar pain to warm me up and get me going, but for what? Now that’s the big question.
I’m pondering as the leather slaps and whistles then a hard, stinging slap to my left buttock pulls me out of my daydreams with a yelp. Someone else is here. Another slap, this time on the right buttock as the floggers continue to fly over my back confuses me then confirms there’s at least three people in the room.
That’s as much thought as I can manage as the hard slaps continue and the flogging doesn’t slow down. I have to absorb the impact, embrace the pain and control my breathing so I can take the next burst. When it stops completely I’m torn between relief and disappointment. Craving more but needing the time to orient myself.
My back and buttocks are throbbing and hot, my body is warmed and ready for more. I bask in the glowing, fading pain until I remember something. There are more people in here than just me and Sir and I’m strip jack naked. The sudden desire to cross my arms across my body and pull my knees together is strong but the command of my master is stronger.
Deep breaths help calm me. Sir is in control. He has invited said people to join us, it’s all fine. No one is judging my wobbly bits.
“Pull away from the wall and stand up straight.” Sir’s voice is just behind me. I push away and stand tall.
“Take three steps forward.” I walk slowly, it’s weird moving without seeing a thing and fear grips me. I don’t want to trip over something, or worse, my own feet.
“And another step, you’re good, don’t worry.” His voice nearby soothes me.
“Put your hands out in front of you.”
I comply and feel a spark of excitement as chains clank close to me. Giggles well up inside me as the cold chain hits my hot flesh. I know Sir will be smiling. He loves to make me giggle as much as he loves to make me scream.
The chain rattles continue, then there’s a new, purposeful sound, a cranking that accompanies my arms being raised into the air. When the chain stops and tightens, my arms are raised above my head. I wiggle my fingers and strain against the chain. All is good, nothing too tight or too loose. I broaden my stance, to keep myself stable and gasp when hands grasp my breasts. It only takes a moment to realise I know the touch, and a further moment for Sir to grasp my nipples and pull. The surprise came when he moved his grip and clamps press into my flesh, he can’t be doing both at once…oh yeah. We’re not alone.
As the mystery clamper and my Master step back a chain drops between the two clamps on my nipples, pulling them down with a jolt of pain. I’m strung up, hanging around, the clink of chain and the heaviness of my breath the only things I can here. What on earth is going to happen next?
The sonic boom of a whip crack makes me jump. Another echoes and I start a little, making the chains jangle but no pain blooms, it’s just the noise, the teasing, tempting noise. Another crack disturbs the air to the right of me and a second later another booms to the right. There are two whips being wielded at least.
Now why weren’t any of them hitting me? Yeah, I’m that much of a masochist. I must be surrounded by sadists as the cracking continues as I dangle forlornly wanting to be the centre of the whipping attention.
And then the sound changes and a stripe of pain explodes down from my right shoulder. And from feeling neglected I go to being the centre of attention—Whips, multiple but I really can’t tell the number—strike and snap, flick and impact down my back and across my arse. I’m on fire, skin roasting and throbbing, heart thudding, I scream and whimper and yell for more. I’m completely wrapped up in a blanket of pain, not knowing where or when the next strike will land. There’s no let up, no break. I can’t judge. My senses are filled with pain and I’m alive, free, ecstatic.
Then it stops. Sir’s arms wrap around me and the chains loosen.
“Good girl,” he whispers, stroking my back, “good girl.”
“I did okay then?” I grin, still completely floaty.
“Oh yeah, but we’re not finished with you yet.”
Now that sounds promising.
© Victoria Blisse