The searing desert heat bore down on him. He was surrounded by dry scrub, prickly pear, creosote bushes, towering cacti. In the distance, both to east and west, shimmering in the heat haze, rose craggy peaks of many colours. The hot, dusty wind parched his throat. It had been far too long since he had had the opportunity to quench his raging thirst. Nearby was a source. But no reward came without sacrifice…….
Washed, scrubbed and shaved closely, he set out. The GPS said twenty-three minutes. He gave himself forty-five. Being late was not an option. Unknown streets, unknown traffic. He was there in twenty-three minutes and had time to relax and mentally prepare. He was in a calm, comfortable state of mind. Not overawed. Simply an excited anticipation. If there was the tiniest gnawing nervousness it stemmed only from the fear of the possibility of he not being of interest, or worse a bore to be endured. But this was a minor concern. This was a repeat encounter and surely would not have been granted if that had been the case last time.
She arrived exactly on time and he stepped into the passenger seat. She flashed him a welcoming smile that he returned. They exchanged pleasantries and calculated when they had last met. Some four years ago; but not long enough to have erased even the smallest detail of their last intriguing encounter from his mind. As they drove he was once more struck by her appearance. Immaculately made up and coiffured without severity. A simply cut, elegant black cocktail dress. Fine black stockings. Stylish stilettoes. Something a little more human than that depicted in her gallery. But no less imposing. Truly a powerful presence.
A minute or so into the drive she passed him the blindfold, a routine he remembered and respected. A wise precaution and one that added greatly to the mystique of the encounter. The commencement of his handing over of control. Of the surrender of his senses into her hands. Of her possession. Turns, stops, twists, starts. They soon arrived and she stepped out. His door opened and he raised himself still sightless. “A hand on my shoulder”, and she led him along a short but tortuous pathway itself with several turns. The blindfold allowed him to see the ground and where to place his feet but no more. In one door and then through another. The blindfold off.
The familiar, small but well appointed dungeon space. Smaller than some he had seen but cozy and intimate. It was then that he took the opportunity to formally present himself. He explained that he was the property of his sweet Mistress A in Europe. She had instructed him to request this encounter, knowing that he had been too long without control. The Mistress smiled and nodded her consent to the temporary taking on of ownership. The respectful code of conduct between women of power.
To business. She stepped to her cabinet, returning with wrist cuffs, which she immediately fastened onto him. She backed him towards the far wall and up against a leather pad. Wrists in turn were attached to fixed rings at shoulder height. She pushed up his shirt and pinched and squeezed his nipples. He groaned as his ordeal began. She unzipped and pulled down his trousers revealing the tight latex underwear he had felt appropriate. She laughed approvingly at these and then stretched them down to reveal him. He wore his thick cock-ring with the customized attachment ring, a one-off item machined by the finest fetish metal worker in the Netherlands. This delighted her and clearly set off a train of thought of possibilities. It did not, nevertheless, stop her cruelly squeezing him and digging her long nails into his tenderness, slapping his cock. He flinched and groaned but knew to thank her for her kindness. She stepped back and slipped out of her cocktail dress.
As before, he was struck by her appearance. Standing in only elegant black lace panties, the finest lace topped hold-ups and her finely styled stilettoes she was an extraordinary sight. And yet an intriguing contrast. Although tall, she was extraordinarily slim. She was toned and healthy and her deportment exuded confidence. Yet still there was a striking delicacy to her body, such a fineness, a gracefully crafted perfection that perhaps even the great sculptors might not have reproduced, a porcelain paleness to her immaculate skin, an unusual precision to her features. Almost a fragility or a vulnerability. However, her imposing presence overcame any such possibility of this. She was firmly in command. She knew what she wanted and she knew she would get it.
She released his hands and told him to strip. Once naked he was commanded to his hands and knees, his ass raised for inspection, his eyes to the ground as she busied herself with a few preparations. She attached ankle cuffs. A couple of slaps with a riding crop adjusted his pose to her satisfaction and she circled him, critically viewing her property. She stepped across the room and ordered him to crawl behind her. Facing away from him and bending slightly forward she presented him her magnificent behind. Taught, pert, almost teenage buttocks. “Kiss them”. He moved slowly, lightly, kissing each orb repeatedly. Not greedily but with care and respect. The skin was silken, the aroma subtle. She occasionally wiggled to move his face enticingly across her crack, sometimes allowing his nose to slide in a little before shifting away. The black thong of her panties hid her bud. How he wished he could push his face deeply in. But certainly he would not without the instruction to do so.
After a few minutes of this delight she ordered him back across the room and back onto his hands and knees. She squatted behind him and asked if he was properly prepared. She enquired of his regular Mistress’ training techniques and was satisfied with the answers. He just managed to stem a physical jolt as, with no warning, she thrust a long finger into his ass. He held himself still and she appeared pleased. Two fingers. Twisted. In. Out. In. Yes. He opened nicely. She congratulated him on his training. A couple of hard slaps on each buttock to confirm this.
She stood again and circled him again. She stopped in front of him, stilettoes and delicate ankles in front of his just raised eyes. Several blows of the riding crop to his buttocks stung him but he screwed up his eyes and managed to remain motionless. The endurance of pain was not in his repertoire. But this was relatively minor, although close to his limited capacity, so he certainly would not distract the Mistress from her whims. But, as with many of the most experienced Dominatrices, she was able to read his tolerance and determined to push him marginally but not excessively beyond what he believed he could endure.
He was ordered to stand and his hands were fastened high and wide apart to chains hanging from the ceiling. She fetched a wide spreader-bar and kicked his legs wide enough apart so he was exposed but could still just support his own weight. His ankles were secured in that position. She fetched a leather thong and, amused, threaded it through the attachment ring of his cock-ring and tied it firmly down to the center loop of the spreader bar. Movement was now impossible without pulling severely down on the ring and consequently his balls.
A leather flogger caused him to jerk and test her arrangement. Repeated blows to his back and buttocks. He gritted his teeth and murmured his correctly addressed thanks. The stinging blows to his cock and balls were harder to endure but he did his duty. She stepped to the cabinet and returned, applying nipple clamps, thankfully relatively soft ones. The flogger was replaced by the riding crop and the process repeated. The blows to his balls this time pushed him to his perceived limit but again he stifled any protest. Satisfied and sufficiently amused by this phase she released his wrists and ankles and led him by the leash in his cock-ring around the room and finally to the corner where he stood facing the wall waiting.
A minute or so of practiced adjustment and he was ordered to turn. As he remembered from his previous visit, the leather wall-board had been converted into a horizontal bed structure. She led him over to it and ordered him to lie down. His ankles were again secured widely apart and his wrists this time were attached apart but at waist level. Nothing therefore to interfere with her access to his body from chest up.
He assumed she must have been somewhat satisfied by his subdued suffering for now she deemed to offer him some reward. She slid out of her panties and lifted her leg over the bench to straddle his face. Six inches above him her delicately sculptured pussy was presented. Her leanness meant her outer labia were relatively flat, leaving the flowering petals of her inner lips to blossom outwards. Fresh and pink, edged with slightly darkened skin at the extremities, her clit decorated with a delicate piercing. Inches beyond, her ass bud was just visible between her tight cheeks.
“Open wide and don’t spill a drop”. .........
CONTINUE IN MEMBERS AREA
The movie mentioned in a story is available as pay per view - called "SLING SLUT"