Biker Bar
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Rosered free porn video
Rosered
The bar was small, and very crowded. The modifieddance floor was blonde wood, nicely polished. Quaint was the word. The placewas the perfect neighborhood bar- well the perfect neighborhood leather bar.You see arranged artfully around the dance area, with its floor length mirrors,was an array of bondage equipment. A horse, suspension chains and a largeblack punishment cross.
I had never been on a punishment cross personally,and I felt my palms get damp as I followed the Master and Mistress over toit on the dance area. I carried paddles, floggers, slappers and canes in myarms from the equipment case. The instruments of my torment.
I kept my eyes down. My heart starting to poundand my breath getting short as we got nearer to its darkness. Not with fearas much as heat.
They had set it deeply into a corner, and puta cover over a pool table next to it, a red leather pad. The Mistress motionedfor me to lay out the equipment, and I did so neatly. My fingers shaking. Theyordered me to get the quick secures from the equipment case, so I could befastened to the cross by the collar and cuffs I was wearing. The restraintthings I had been wearing all night since the Bloody Valentine show. The showwhere She had carved Her initials into my breasts with a razor blade I hadcleaned off myself.
It was after that supremely erotic spectacle thatthey had asked me to be The Master's entry into the Rose Red Contest- The Master/slavecombo with the reddest backside wins a gift certificate for Wicked. The localLeather store. I immediately agreed to it. Pleasing them both.
I waited patiently before the black cross, whenI had finished laying the things out, waiting for instruction. Waiting forthe punishment to begin.
Now when I say punishment, one must understandthat it was for no other reason than this contest and my wish to show my willingnessto submit to them. Whatever they desired. This was for no infraction of anyrules, nor their pleasure, or my education. It just was. That part of me needsit, loves it, craves it, is merely part of the head game we Sado/masochistsplay with each other. I surrender control willingly. The Master and Mistressoffer to take it from me- as my gift to them.
The Master pushed me gently closer to the glossydarkness of the cross, and told me to raise my arms. Using the quick securesto bind my arms high and closely to the cool surface. His fingers softer thanthe Mistress', always softer. I spread my legs so my feet could be bound thesame way. He moved my skirt out of the way of his flogger and left my buttocksclear to view. I was captured and at the mercy of the Master and Mistress.A position of total trust that I had happily assumed.
That I was submitting myself before a roomfulof complete and total strangers, strangers that proper slave etiquette meantI was forbidden to look at, merely added to the spice. Fired my imaginationand raised my pulse deliciously.
I felt hands on me. His hands, the Master's. Hisvoice caressing my ears with sound so low only I could hear it. A brush ofair against my nape, his breath sweet. His body close enough to mine to justbe a line of heat against my bare side. Finger's firm as he wrapped the tailsof his flogger around my throat pulling my head back so my shoulder restedagainst his chest. I shivered and closed my eyes. Feeling the first warm flushof endorphins flooding my system as fear rolled my mind. Ignore the crowd andfocus on Him. The Master's voice is all that's important. His wishes and instructions.He spoke.
"Are you ready?" I nodded trying to force soundpast the lump in my throat. The fire burning in my throbbing blood.
"Yes..." Too soft. "Yes, Master." I managed afterclearing my throat. He backed away, and the first blow fell, forcing the airfrom my throat with a soft sound.
The move into subspace or slave space is a formof self hypnosis. That I can surrender enough of myself to get off on painis a clinical process. A process that every person, trained as a pleasure slavelike I was, knows how to do. We can sublimate ourselves and go beyond. Thisis a game we sexual masochists play not only with the Top/Dominant but withour own bodies and our own minds.
We have to be able to lose ourselves and stillpay attention to the wishes, instructions and needs of our tops. Their desiresare foremost to the true sub in a service scenario. A place I was trying toget too. Half in, Half out. Still every scene is different, and I with my yearsof experience was a novice in many ways to the arena I was playing in. I knewthat I would have to take more, be more graceful, and more willing, to survivehere, and I have never wanted anything more in my life. Had I my wish I wouldnever leave this world I was visiting.
Pain is relative and every good submissive knowsthis. It still hurts, and the pain was there for me. I tried to count blowslike a good little subbie but they soon fell so fast and furious I had no chancetoo. I tried to count again when they switched to the paddle, the strap andthe slapper. Going completely still when they touched the skin of my buttocksto check for damage. Too check for progress.
It was then that she hit me, The Mistress. I don'tknow what she had in her hand, but the heat was instantaneous. It took my breathaway and ignited the fire burning in my blood in a single stroke. I pulledmy body as tightly into the cross as I could get, and it wasn't near closeenough. Yet it wasn't a single stroke that she laid upon my flesh. It was likea metronome. Same place, same depth, same weight to her hand, as well-practicedas it is. My mind went into hyper drive as I struggled not to move, and notto fight, even though I knew it was useless. I felt my hands clench and unclenchdesperately. I suddenly knew that I couldn't take one more, but... If I quit...
Panic.. I bit my tongue and struggled on the crossin earnest to escape. I lost all self control. I felt it building in me anddidn't know which I fought more the urge to use my safe word, and stop my tormentor the urge to not orgasm on that cross, in front of all those strangers withoutpermission. Permission I would never have the guts to ask for. The secret Inever even tell myself. I was about to open my mouth when she just stoppedworking me.
The surcease from pain was so sudden that I saggedinto the cross limp, head hanging. Sweat rolling down face. My hair damp.
"Are you alright?" They asked me, and I pulledmy self back from subspace. My chest heaving so I felt like I had just runa marathon.
"Yes, Mistress." So beautiful, My Mistress, anythingfor you. She ran a black metal striker against my lips, and I kissed it dreamily,running my tongue along its surface in gratitude, wishing I could lay my headagainst her feet in a show of respect. Hearing her speaking to the Master aboutthe state of my posterior, that I bruised easily but the continual blows werediffusing the color nicely as they kept working me into a pretty shade of red.
Then they started again, and I swore. My bodyjerking as raw flesh was struck.
"Jesus Christ!" and getting a stern "shhhh." fromsomeone behind me. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, wishing I had beengagged. It made things so much easier sometimes. They paused and I felt a handbetween my open legs. Feeling the dampness of my arousal. No way to hide howwet I was, and I did try to pull my bound legs closed, uselessly. Why eventry?
"None of that...Don't you like this?"
"I love it, Mistress." I gasped out, staying stillas someone explored my body with soft fingers. I knew it wouldn't last though.They would start flogging me again.
They did too, and it wasn't the random sensuousflogging of the Master, but the hard metronome of the Mistress. Even tempoand pressure.
It was like they had never stopped. I went backto a heated delicious agony in a matter of seconds. Fighting my body and myown need. Knowing that I wasn't going to make it this time. I was going toorgasm. I cried out to stop it. Hearing unshed tears under my voice.
"Mistress, Please...Don't..." I clamped it down.Bit down on my tongue hard enough to draw blood and refused to beg for mercy.Hands clenching and unclenching into fists helplessly until gentle hands touchedme.
"Don't what, slave?" She asked, and I felt somethingbreak inside of me until it came out in my voice. A ghost of unshed tears.
"Please, please don't make me say my safe-word,Mistress, please..." I begged and hung my head in shame. Pulling lungfuls ofair into my chest in gulps trying to regain control.
They pulled back from me and why not? What a disappointmentI must be with my delicate skin and lack of control. My lack of grace in extremis.I felt like a wretched failure. I could almost hear them talking over my hoarsebreathing and pounding pulse but not quite. It was the last comment that Iheard her make as she discussed my skin.
"We need to take a break for a few moments anyways.See..." Hands and nails brushing my raw buttocks so I hissed with pain. Itstopped and he was next to me again. The Master. The Lady was gone.
I freely admit to bisexuality. but thanks to anabysmal track record with men for the last few years. I have been dating womenonly. I even came out as a lesbian to my family. Now, I have a ton of malefriends, and one male top that I service occasionally, but that is Service.He's a switch, like me. Service is a task. A generally pleasant and rewardingtask, but still... sometimes it is also taking the torment the top wishes toinflict upon you just because he/she wishes to torture you intimately. It somehowmakes it easier to think of it as just service. An expert service that I hadbeen trained to provide on command, oh so long ago. Not my job to questionit, just my job to accept it as a slave.
I had been dreading first service to the Master,even though I knew in my rational mind that he was a decent person with hishard, yet gentle hands, and wounded eyes. Still men were dangerous in my mind.He scared me, a lot. Not as a top, but as a male human animal. Dangerous.
Not tonight, however, his voice was gentle inmy ear.
"Would you like something to drink?" Heaven. Ithought when he asked me that. I was so dry.
"Water would be lovely Master, please." He leftme alone, and try as I might to not look around I did glance at the peoplearound me. I stopped myself quickly. I had seen more than I wished to of thecrowd watching me. A big crowd.
I let myself even out. Pulse slowing, breath returningto normal. After glow settling in when the Master rolled the cold water bottleover my neck and down my back. I moaned in relief. I felt like I was on fire.Wonderful pleasure. The coolness welcome against my skin. He came around tothe front of me. Opening the bottle and holding it to my lips so I could drinkdeeply.
"Are you okay?" He was talking to me as thoughI wasn't quite the miserable failure that I thought I was. He didn't act likehe was disappointed in me. I was being petted and cared for as though I werea good slave. I cleared my throat and told him my thumbs were tingling- probablypressure on my radial nerves. He quick released me and let me dangle my armsdown at my sides for a few delicious moments. Shaking feeling back into them. "Thecontest is in a half hour, we'll start again in a few minutes."
"Is it red, Master?" I asked him, hoping he wouldanswer me.
"Oh, yeah.." His hands on my skin again. In myhair, on my neck. Petting me. It was at that moment that I suddenly had nomore fear of him. I almost didn't care that he was male. I loved him completely,and wanted to serve him in any capacity that he wished of me. He had just clickedinto place in my head as Master. I felt like his. I felt like theirs. All oftheirs.
Now, it wasn't the love of love songs, and theirhappily ever after horseshit. It was his beauty, his cruelty and his kindness,in that order, that I loved at that moment. The kind hands in my hair, andon my throat. His asking me if I loved him as he had whipped me the first time.The melting tenderness that all subs crave and we never ask for. We simplybask in it when we earn it by submission and willingness to serve. Anythingfor you.
It was more than that though . I hadseen him take as much as a good sub could take, and not balk. Hestayed calm and collected. I admired his grit. He set a good example.
Time moved on quickly and I was given more water.He allowed me to catch my breath. Set my defenses back up. My body buzzingwith desire. I could scent it in the air, my heated flesh. I know my eyes blazedwith it. I really had to force myself to not look around, but keep my eyesdown, demurely and my full attention on the Master.
When he re-secured my arms to the cross he setthem lower this time, so I wouldn't damage the radial nerve that was stillbuzzing. Thoughtful, Master, thank you.
The Mistress wandered back over, and she saidthat it was five minutes until the contest. I could do that. I could do anythingfor five minutes.
They started out hard this time, well it feltthat way to me, but I was so raw the lightest touch was agony. Not that itmattered as I slipped into subspace for five minutes... I can do five minutes.I can do five minutes... then I was gone. Head back, pain moving through medeliciously to settle at the apex of my thighs. I was drenching with it, andI knew it. Telling myself to accept. To become patience. then...
A voice... The Mistress.....
"You will be rewarded later, for being so good." Ummm...that made it so much more bearable. Something to look forward too.
Five minutes ended too soon. He quick releasedme, and I followed him to the center of the dance floor with the other twocontestants. Only two, a man and a woman.
The Master pulled a bondage horse into good light,and had me bend over it. He rearranged my garter's so the rosy color of myflesh was easily seen, and we waited for Mystress D to judge the contest. Shedid so with paint chips. I was very surprised when Master L announced thatwe had won the competition. I did feel a small twinge of pride in our victory.
The Master said that it was no contest really,after we had won. My buttocks were by far the more worked and reddened.
They ended up drawing for second place as well.All in all it was a good night. I served my Master and Mistress to the bestI was able too with as much willing acceptance as I could give to them.
Yes, a very good night. I learned something aboutmyself, and about the Master and Mistress. I could take more than I thoughtI could, and they respected my limitations without judging me as a failurefor them. Limits can be stretched. Respect cannot.
I came to the complete realization that I wasprobably the luckiest submissive in the bar that night. A beautiful Masterand Mistress to torture me, train me and work me? Maybe the luckiest submissivein the state.
The End.
Rene
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