Lightly proofed and edited by the reclusive Mike Ink.

Playful WF, 23 Y/O, seeking gentle but firm male to dominate me. I’m 5’8, 115 lb. Nice figure and long brown hair. Box 5559

I read the ad once more. Well, what the hell. I picked up the phone and dialled the number. After listening to the instructions, I started to work my way through the menus. Then I keyed in the girl’s box number, and upon hearing her ad, I was intrigued by her soft, slightly husky voice. I was told to leave my message and heard the beep. Trying hard to keep the nervousness out of my voice, I said that I noticed her ad and that I would like to know more about her. I told her my name was Jim, left my e-mail address, said bye for now, and hung up. Probably just a waste of three minutes at a dollar ninety-five, I thought, and got ready to go to work.

Things started off hectic that week. Three days later when I checked my mail, I couldn’t think who ‘little1@mailnet.com’ could be. When I opened the file, I remembered my impulsive phone call and saw that it may have paid off after all. ‘Little1’ turned out to be Samantha, and she gave me a few more details about herself than were in her ad. Thirty-four, twenty-two, thirty-five was a nice place to start. She told me she was into bondage, which was good. Almost as a warning, she stated that she had couple of piercings, but that was fine with me too. Samantha said she hadn’t been able to find someone who could take her to that special place she’d heard about, and was hoping that her ad in the paper might land her a ticket there.

I wrote her that I enjoyed visiting exotic places, but had not yet found a compatible travel companion. I described myself; 6’1, 185. Casual, outdoorsy, and easy going, mostly. Thirty-five years old. I didn’t want to come on too strong, but I said that I thought I might know what she wanted. I said I would like to see her, and told her to pick a mall or coffee shop someplace in town; that I’d meet with her this Saturday sometime. Her first letter was posted on Tuesday, this was Wednesday. I didn’t want to give this girl too much time to think about it.

At lunchtime Thursday, I checked my mail and smiled to myself. Little1 had taken the hook. She mentioned a shopping mall at the north end of town that I knew had a cosy food court, nice and public. Smart girl. She said any time Saturday would be good, so I said I’d be there at two in the afternoon. I told her I’d meet her in the food court and to tie her hair in a loose ponytail with a red ribbon, so I would know who she was.

Even though I kept trying to convince myself this may not lead to anything much, I nevertheless tossed and turned that night, excited at meeting with Samantha. Fortunately, I slept in late Saturday; woke fresh, and rested. I did some work on the computer, then after lunch, I showered and got ready for my ‘date’.

I arrived at the mall at about quarter to two. I wandered around the big mall for a while, checking out the sights, then went to the food court and bought a coffee. I was just about to find a seat when I spotted long brown hair, really long. Past the bum long. Normally that alone would make my heart flutter, but this hair was tied back in a loose ponytail with a piece of red ribbon.

I moved through the crowd and sidled up to the girl with the long hair.

“Can I buy you a coffee, Samantha?” I asked.

Samantha turned to face me and I felt the old ticker trip. She had a silver ring in her right nostril. I smiled. Her face was gorgeous; thin eyebrows, bright blue eyes, all framed nicely by her thick hair.

“Jim?” she asked.

I took a sip of my coffee to try to hide my excitement.

“You’re a very pretty girl,” I said. “Jim Bradson. Can I get you something?”

She said coffee would be fine so I got one for her and topped up mine. The girl looked stunning, and I noticed several guys followed her with their eyes as we walked across the area. We snagged a table off to the side, a little away from the bustle of the crowds, and sat down. Samantha was a real beauty and I told her so again. She was wearing a loose cotton dress, bare legs, and sandals with thin straps that showed off her lovely feet. A small silver ring adorned one toe.

We talked a bit about work and stuff, she saying she worked as a teller in a bank and had taken graphic arts in collage. She was looking for something, maybe part time, which she could apply her artistic talents to. I told her I worked as a network consultant and that I also managed a database at one of the hospitals in the city.

I noticed that the girl seemed to have a hard time looking straight into my eyes. She would glance up from time to time but mostly kept her eyes lowered to a spot on my chest, or on my coffee cup. Once, I made a quip that brought a giggle. She put her hand to her face, touched her nose ring, then quickly settled again.

“I like your ring,” I said.

She blushed a little, then smiled and looked up at me. I saw her eyes dance mischievously and I knew what she wanted to tell me.

I prompted her. “Your letter said something about a couple of piercings.”

Her eyes flickered downward.

“Down there?” I asked.

“Two,” she answered a little shyly. “In the lips.”

“Mmmm,” I purred. I felt my cock twitch at the thoughts of her labia rings squished between her softness and the hard chair seat. It jumped again as the scene in my mind shifted to my nose pushing in between them.

“Some men I’ve dated got turned off when I told them about my rings,” she stated. “You don’t mind?”

“Oh no,” I said with a big smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

I began my pitch. “Samantha, I have a fairly good idea of what you’re looking for. I want to you know that you don’t have to worry with me; I will take things as slowly or as fast as you want. Trust in these kinds of situations doesn’t come easy, and I understand how hard it can be for you, but I hope to show you that you have nothing to fear, if you want to take things further. Just seeing you has been a treat for me. If you’d like, we could go have some dinner and talk some more. Then after, maybe go back to my place?”

Samantha didn’t even hesitate. “O.K,” she said.

I wasn’t sure if that was OK to just dinner, or both. I was encouraged however. Sam, she asked me to call her Sam, said she didn’t have a car and had taken the bus here. We left the mall and walked through the parking lot to my Jeep. I told her that I do some camping and canoeing, and the truck suited my needs. Sam told me as I drove how she loved the great outdoors and enjoyed camping a lot. I talked a little about the trip I took last fall, of the serenity of the uncrowded park up north at that time of the year. I drove to a Thai restaurant near to my house where I eat often when I’m too busy to cook something, or too lazy to.

Paul greeted us at the door. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bradson, table for two?”

Paul led us to a table by the front window. I caught his sly wink as he seated my companion, and I grinned at him. I asked Sam if she liked spicy food and she asked me if they had hot and sour soup here. “Only the best I’ve tasted,” I said. We settled on the soup, a beef and basil curry, and some steamed rice.

I have always wondered how girls blew their noses with a big ring in them. Half way through the spicy soup, Sam had a major case of the sniffles, but she handled it with grace, subtly wiping off her ring with the tissue afterwards. I think I embarrassed her by staring, but I flashed a smile that seemed to make it OK.

I answered Sam’s question before she asked it. I’d been married before - Susan, my high school sweetheart. She was killed in a plane crash about six years ago. I was angry and bitter for a long time afterwards. I threw myself into my work to try and fill the empty hours, taking on more and more projects, attempting to forget. It was while working on a web project for a women’s support group that I began to find people in much the same situation as myself, people who had lost someone near and dear to them. I opened contact with a fellow in Britain who’d had similar experiences, and through a series of long, personal letters, we were both able to come to grips with what had happened.

I didn’t know if it was my story or the spicy food, but Sam had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to bring you down. What my wife and I had was something special. The kind of relationship that I think you are seeking, if you know what I mean. I’m not trying to replace her, well maybe a little, but, well, I’m just saying I do know something of what women like. Submissive women, I mean.”

I didn’t think this was going all that well, but Sam took my hand and looked up at me. A small tear had run down her cheek and was hanging off her nose ring. She touched it with her finger to wipe it away. She spoke. “I think you do know what women like me want, Jim. I don’t know why I’m like this. But I do know how I feel when something happens. I can see you are kind and gentle and that makes me believe I could trust you. You don’t come across all macho like some guys I’ve met. But I’m not really looking for gentle. I think I need more than that.”

“You’re the first girl I’ve dated since, well, since Sue,” I told her, “so this is a little awkward for me. I think I can see what you are looking for. I don’t want to rush you or anything, but if you want, dessert at my place?”

Sam hesitated for only a moment. “Sure,” she said. We stood up and I paid the check. There was a bakery next door that we went in to get the dessert. The smells of fresh baking assaulted us when I opened the door for Sam. I watched her walk around for a while until she stopped at a rack of still warm pies. Cherry. I looked at her and noted her smile. I took one and paid, then we got into the Jeep and I drove home.

I live just outside of the city in a smaller house on a huge lot. There are trees around the house and the property backs onto forest, which may one day become a subdivision, but had so far been spared. Sam looked happy as I drove up the driveway, but I began to think the relative isolation of the house might give her cause to worry. She didn’t seem too bothered, however, and told me how quiet and peaceful it was out here. I guess living in the city, you miss that.

I unlocked the door and we went in. I showed Sam the front room I’d taken over as an office, explaining that I did a lot of my work from home. Then the bathroom down the hall, which Sam went to use. In the kitchen, I found a bottle of sweet wine that would go nicely with the pie, and I opened it. I had two pieces of pie on plates when Sam returned, and we took them and the drink out back.

My back yard is impressive, one of my larger make-work projects. After the pie, we took our glasses and walked the stone path past the hot tub and swimming pool, through the trees to the fishpond. Bushes, flowers; the usual.

Sam took my arm as we made our way back to the house. I noted the sparkle in her eyes and decided to move to the next level. I picked up the wine bottle, then led Sam inside and downstairs to the rec room. I set the bottle on the bar and took Sam’s arm. The ribbon holding her hair had slipped down to the middle of her back so I pulled it down to free her hair, spreading it out by running my fingers along its length. Then I held her close and kissed her. Sam didn’t try to pull away. Rather, she seemed to melt into me, pressing her body against mine, returning the kiss with a passion that I’d almost forgotten existed. It was I who had to break the kiss, holding her close, feeling up and down her back through her soft hair. Then she did something that my wife used to do. Sam brought her two hands behind her. My hand, which was inching towards her bum, touched hers. I encircled both her wrists with my fingers and squeezed gently but firmly.

Sam pressed her face to my chest. I heard her make a little moan when she tried to pull her hands apart, and I squeezed a little tighter with my fingers. When she looked up into my eyes, I saw the beginnings of the girl’s lust etched on her face. I held her like that for several minutes, softly stroking her head and arms, kissing her face, her lips, before releasing her hands to move away from her. I seated myself on the couch, leaving her standing there, swaying slightly, her head tilted down.

“Samantha.” She looked up at me.

“Why don’t you get undressed now?” It was not a question.

The girl standing before me began to unfasten the buttons at the top of her dress. Slowly, without looking up, she slid the material off her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor. I tried not to gasp too loudly. I’d noticed already that she wore no bra. The girl’s body was magnificent. Her pert breasts were topped by delicate nipples, which I noted were quite stiff, standing out proudly. Her body tapered to a lovely waist, then flared again to firm looking hips. She wore thin white panties through which I could see the shadow of a small bush. Sam didn’t need coaxing; she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pushed her panties down her perfect legs to her feet.

She bent down and stepped out of the panties, catching the straps of her sandals and taking them off too. Then she gathered everything up and carefully placed her clothes on a nearby chair before returning to stand before me once more. She kept her eyes down, her hands behind her back. She moved her feet apart a little. I sipped my wine as I drank in the sight before me.

My cock was worming its way down the leg of my shorts, threatening to poke out at the hem. I had to rearrange things a bit. The light in the room sparkled on the two silver rings between the girl’s legs. I placed my glass down, then motioned to her to come a little closer to me. Sam took two steps to stand nearer to me and I placed my hand between her knees, then slid it up her silky smooth thigh. When my finger contacted her rings, I felt her tremble a bit. I looked closer.

Her bush was nicely trimmed, a small soft patch of fur. In between there was no hair. Her pussy lips swelled as I watched, making her rings stand out more and separate a little. When I traced her slit with my finger it came away moistened with her juices.

“Stay right there,” I commanded. I had to get something.

I stood and went into the other room, my workshop. I returned with a short piece of soft nylon rope. Sam hadn’t moved, but her eyes grew wide when she saw what was in my hand. I moved to her and laid the rope across her left shoulder. I palmed her left breast with the rope between, gently rubbing her nipple, slowly rolling the silky rope across it.

“I’m going to tie your hands now,” I softly said.

I felt a shudder run through Samantha’s body. I gathered up her hair to drape it over her shoulder. I took up the piece of rope and moved her hands closer together behind her. After winding the rope around both her wrists three times, I passed the end between them a couple of times and tied a knot. I didn’t pull the cinch too tight; she could probably have worked herself free if she wanted to. I moved her hair back and arranged it over her arms. Then I took her head in my hands and kissed her again.

I could feel her indecision as to this new turn of events, but only for a moment. I soon felt her tugging at the rope binding her hands as the kiss became more passionate. Sam was rubbing herself against me when I broke my lips from hers, and she was panting slightly from the heat that had built up. I stroked down her back with one hand, feeling her arms under her mane of hair, while with the other hand I cupped the girl’s sex. She spread her thighs and moaned.

I’d kicked off my shoes when we’d entered the house but I still had on my shirt and shorts. When I took my hands away from Sam’s body and took a step back, it took a couple of second before she opened her eyes. I pulled my shirt out from my shorts and began to unbutton it. I took it off and tossed it on a chair, then moved closer again.

Hugging Sam close, I could feel her hard nipples boring into my chest, two little points of fire. She started to squirm against me, mashing her tits against my chest. She hooked her leg around mine to caress my legs with her foot while grinding herself against the bulge in my shorts. I wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.

“Would you like to go upstairs?” I asked.

A throaty purr was my answer. Taking the girl by the arm, I led her up the stairs and into the bedroom. Evening sunlight was streaming in the windows, sparkling off the brass headboard and spilling across the bed. I was glad I’d gotten motivated enough to polish the brass last month. Sam went to the bed and sat down in the centre of it. She looked fantastic with the sunlight in her hair. She sat cross-legged, wide open to me, and that gave me an idea. I unbuckled my belt and pulled it free from my shorts. I took Sam’s knees and spread them apart to position her ankles closer together, then, using my belt I wrapped it around her ankles enough times until I could close the buckle. Samantha discovered that she could no longer bring her knees together.

I stepped back to take my shorts off, letting them fall to the floor. My prick waved about for a second before zeroing in on the vision sitting on my bed. I’m not that big; average, I guess. But it’s not the weight of the hammer; it’s how you swing it, right? Samantha’s eyes never left it as I made my way across the bed towards her. I searched her face for any signs of distress. What I saw was a kind of deep fascination with what was happening to her.

I touched her leg. “Are you all right?” I asked her.

Sam looked up into my eyes. I felt her leg twitch. Her mouth was open and her eyes had a glazed look to them. She licked her lips, then spoke in a quiet voice.

“Yes sir, I’m fine.”

I shifted her hair and peered around behind her. The rope was still a little loose around her wrists and her hands were pink and warm. She kept trying to close her legs, but the belt around her ankles made that impossible. I reached over her feet to gently touch her pussy, flicking her rings with a finger. She arched her back a bit, supporting herself with her hands so she didn’t fall backwards. While I stroked her slit, I used my other hand to rub and gently pinch her nipples. Each time I squeezed one of her buds, I saw her drift deeper and deeper into herself, revelling in the feelings of her helplessness. She leaned back a bit more to push her pussy closer to my hand. I felt for her clit and gave it a little squeeze between my finger and thumb. She jumped, moaning loudly, and I realized that she was ready.

I gathered up all her hair in one hand, making sure there were no loose strands across her face that would bother her later. Still holding on to Sam’s hair, I lay on my back on the bed beside her. I moved around until my feet were at the head of the bed and I tucked a pillow under my head. Sam lay back and, grasping her thigh, I rolled her over on top of me. I let her hair fall down along her back. It was so long that it stretched across her hands and hung down past her bum, the ends reaching for her pussy. The way I’d tied her ankles crosswise, her thighs were wide-open, leaving plenty of room for my head. I had to pause for a moment to admire the scenery.

As I watched, Samantha’s pussy lips parted open before me. The two silver rings were sticking straight out, separated, on each side of her open centre. I could see the girl’s glistening inner wetness flushed with her arousal. Sam relaxed her head into my crotch, which pulled her hair up, away from her pussy like the raising of a curtain. I gently blew up into her, causing her to shift herself around on top of me. Simply stunning. I took a grip on both her thighs and slid her body a little closer to me. I pushed my nose between her rings, then, with my tongue, I touched her clit.

Samantha went wild. She started bucking her hips against my face and writhing on top of me. I took a firm grip on one thigh, and with my other hand, I hooked my fingers in the rope around her wrists. I didn’t want her to roll off me; maybe fall off the bed and get hurt.

My holding her tighter was like gasoline on a fire. She started to struggle harder. I wanted to raise my head to see if she was all right but got a mouth full of cunt as she ground herself into me. Suddenly I got a face full of warm liquid as Sam went off like a firecracker, going all rigid and moaning loudly. I pushed my tongue up inside her to feel her cunt rhythmically grasping at it. She squeezed my head between her thighs despite the belt around her ankles. Then she almost pulled her hands away from my grasp as she came again, this time writhing madly and screaming out in a loud, high pitched wail.

Finally, she slumped down on top of me, her breath hot and heavy on my balls. I’d almost cum too with all the writhing she’d done, but my erection was still painfully hard, the head nestled snugly between her tits. I reached down to snag the corner of the sheet to wipe off my face a bit. Then I felt above my head to undo the belt around Samantha’s ankles. Tilting my head back, I could see some red marks left by the belt but it didn’t look too bad. Sam’s feet separated, and with a soft sigh she let them fall to the bed.

I gently rolled the now limp girl off me and sat up. Her eyes were closed and there was a look of peaceful serenity about her that I found extremely endearing. When I shifted on the bed, her eyes popped open and her mouth spread in a huge grin.

“Be right back,” I said.

I went to the bathroom to splash some water over my face. Pussy juice doesn’t bother me but I’ve heard that some women don’t like the taste or smell of themselves, and I wasn’t finished with Sam yet. Just a quick splash, then I returned with the towel to mop some of the slickness from Samantha’s thighs and crotch. I took a look at her hands to make sure the rope had not twisted or tightened, cutting off the circulation. She was fine. I held her close, stroking her head. She was still a bit groggy from her explosive orgasm, still twitchy from its after-effects.

After a few minutes, Sam started to snuggle closer to me, becoming more aware of where she was. She tried to bring her hands around to touch me but discovered them to be still bound behind her back. She let out a long breath and simply said, “Wow!”

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked with a straight face.

When she looked up, she saw me grin and she laughed. Sam told me that she had never cum so quickly like that before, never so intensely. She went on to say how she’d felt so helpless and so exposed with the way I’d tied her that she’d just let herself go. When I had grabbed the rope at her wrists and she tried to pull away but couldn’t, the feelings she’d had were like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

“I’ve let myself be tied up before,” Samantha said to me, “and sometimes I, uh, I tie myself up, you know. Some guys can be real jerks about it, but I don’t feel that way with you, Jim. When you first put this rope on me,” she brought her hands to her side as much as she was able to, “I realized that you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”

My hard-on was still raging, quivering slightly, pressed against Sam’s stomach. I said, “I’m pleased that you could find trust in me so quickly. I’m not really into pain or discomfort, although I’m not above giving you a taste, if that’s what you’re looking for. What I am looking for is a kind of symbiotic relationship where we can both give and receive that which we need. Where one yields a certain amount of control to another. That is the essence of this type of relationship, the D&S lifestyle as it’s called.”

There was a definite slickness on Sam’s belly, my pre cum being spread around each time my cock twitched. She noticed it too and shifted around to touch me there with her foot. Oh, did I mention that I kind of have a thing for bare feet? Sam moved away a bit more, then laying on her bound hands, she started using both her soft, smooth feet to stroke me there. She soon had the head of my cock between her soles and was rolling and stroking it. I had to make her stop and I placed my hands on her feet.

“I don’t think you know how much I like that,” I said to her.

“I sort of thought you might,” Sam answered. “Shall I continue?”

I had thought she didn’t notice my stealing glances at her feet every chance I got. But then subtlety was never my strong suit. Sam’s little toe ring was winking at me as she worked her foot up and down my dick. Her thighs were spread open, and with her hands underneath her ass, her pussy was pushed up, giving me a nice view of her two labia rings, which shifted around a bit as she stroked me. It didn’t take long at all before I was spurting cum all over her dainty toes. Sam let out a giggle as I grabbed for the towel to catch the mess before it spread all over the place. Since my secret was out, I spent more time than necessary wiping the cum off her feet and toes. I noticed, much to my delight, that she wasn’t ticklish there, and began to trace every inch of her lovely feet with my fingers, giving her a nice foot massage in the process.

Samantha rolled over on her side to stretch out beside me, upside down. She pushed her feet closer to my face and inched closer to mine. She ran her tongue across the top of my foot, then opened her mouth to draw my big toe into her mouth. I was shocked. Pleased as hell, too. I took her foot in my hand, by chance the one with the toe ring, and gave it a tongue wash that she seemed to enjoy very much. After not much longer, Sam was panting with desire and my cock was getting hard again.

I reached for the rope holding her hands and began to untie her. I saw a flicker of disappointment flash across her face before she realized what I was going to do. Snagging a pillow, I placed it at the end of the bed, and then had her lay on her back. Sam’s arms were stiff from being tied so long, so I gave her a moment to adjust.

“You are on the pill, yes?” I asked.

“Yes.”

My bed, brass and quite solid, has a footboard consisting of bars and fancy scrollwork. All nice and convenient. I guided Sam’s hands through and around one of the bars, then tied her wrists together again. I tied them a little tighter this time. When I’d finished, I sat down beside her and just watched for a moment. Sam’s eyes darted around, taking in her new situation. I watched her look up, bringing her hands up to see them tied on the other side of the bed frame. She moved to grasp the bar that was between her arms to verify its existence, its solidity. The look that came over her face after she’d confirmed she was truly stuck was absolutely priceless. A flicker of fear mixed with unbridled lust, followed by a look of total surrender that was so touching I almost sobbed aloud.

I spent the next half hour torturing my pretty young captive. I stayed away from her so-sensitive clit, concentrating instead on her nipples, which I quickly found out were almost equally as responsive. With only a little sucking and licking, she was writhing in wanton lust again. I caught her grinding her thighs together, trying to push herself over the edge, and I stopped. I was going to tie her ankles together like before, but another idea came to me. I held her legs still until she calmed enough to hear me.

“Samantha,” I said in my most commanding voice. She looked at me.

“I don’t want you to cum until I say you may do so.”

Her eyes got wide for a moment. I felt her tense as she let out a soft moan. She nodded her head in acceptance of the order. I took it easy on her, stroking her belly while gently tonguing her nipples. Once or twice, I let my hand stray towards her pussy. While I toyed with her rings, I let her fight her urgent need to let go with her other need to obey my command not to cum. I could see it was a tough struggle. When she looked like she would fall over the edge, I backed off, giving her a chance for a better grip, before pressing on. At one point, while she was bucking her hips up, humping air, I managed to slip the towel under her to catch the flood of juices pouring out. I drove the poor dear to a state of mindless wailing before I slowly pushed my finger between her pussy lip rings.

Bending close to her ear, I spoke. “Come for me Samantha.”

With one finger inside her, I gently flicked across her clit with my thumbnail, then pressed on that little button with the pad of my thumb. Nothing happened for a second, and I pressed the button again. Then I started to feel a kind of a vibration on my finger inside Sam’s cunt.

What happened next was a sight to behold. The girl tied to my bed seemed to explode in a fury of movement. I made a lunge to hold her arms before she broke her wrists thrashing against the bar of the bed frame. Her high keening wail deafened me and her legs corkscrewed in different directions as she came and came. My finger inside the girl’s cunt was almost torn off, gripped tightly inside her while I fought to keep her from doing herself, and me, an injury. Samantha seemed caught up for almost a full minute in such a forceful orgasm; I began to get a little worried. Near the end she just ran out of steam and collapsed in a sweaty, exhausted mass of divine girl flesh. I heard her heart hammering in her chest, strong and regular, beginning to slow, and I knew then that she’d recover, eventually.

I sat with her for several minutes, watching her occasionally jerk and moan. I nipped out to the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice, then returned to the bedroom. It was starting to get dark so I turned on a soft light in the corner, then sat down beside Sam again. Her eyes flickered open but it took a few moments before she became aware of me again.

“Hi,” I said.

She moaned softly. I took a sip from the glass of juice and smacked my lips. She stared longingly at the glass of refreshing liquid.

“Want some?” I asked.

Sam made a move with her hands but was stopped short by the bar in the footboard. She looked back, seeming to notice for the first time that she was tied up to the bed, and groaned again. I held her head up and let her sip from the glass of juice. She dropped her head to the pillow with a contented smile on her lips. I took another swallow of the juice, then set the glass on the bedside table.

I did want to fuck Samantha, but I didn’t think she’d want to now, after what she’d just been put through. When I turned to her, I was just going to untie her for a while. Sam lifted up her knees and wiggled her bum provocatively at me with a big grin on her face. I got between her knees, stroked her thighs, and kissed her taut tummy. I inched my way upward, planting little kisses, until I reached her face where I locked my lips to hers and pushed my tongue past her teeth. Her recovery now nearly complete, her tongue danced with mine as she brought her feet up to caress my thighs and bum. I noticed she kept trying to bring her hands downwards to touch me.

Sam saw me looking up and her eyes followed mine towards her hands, the rope wrapped and tied around her wrists, the thick brass bar between her arms. She brought her hands up and touched the bar, running her fingers up and down it, stroking it. I could feel the girl’s heat building up once more. I reached down to position myself at her entrance, then began to slowly push inside. While I couldn’t say I felt Sam’s rings, I could vividly picture them sliding along the length of my cock as I plunged into her. She seemed ready to go again and would give a little yelp each time I pushed into her. It was not a cry of pain, I knew. Samantha was in heaven and loving every second. I watched her twisting her wrists and pulling against the rope. I knew she must have been hurting there with all the thrashing she’d done earlier. I could also see that she was getting off on it. I reached out along her arm, past the bar to hold her hands. I moved to kiss her passionately on the lips, then I started to bang into her in earnest.

Her cunt was so well lubricated that it was difficult to get much friction. A couple times, I pulled out to wipe my cock on the wet towel that was still under her crotch. In the end, I just pumped into her with wild abandon while she writhed beneath me, her heels at my ass driving me on. Her wrists were going to have a major case of rope burn but I was past the point of worry. Samantha’s cunt was nice and tight, but with all her juices, it felt smooth and slick, slippery as oiled glass, enabling me to last much longer than was usual.

After what seemed like forever, I started to feel a momentum begin to build deep within. Sam had cum twice all ready, little novas where she’d go all tense and clamp her pussy down hard on my dick while I slowed to ride her out. By this time my arms were getting tired, so I collapsed my full weight on Sam, grinding her tits against my chest as I pistoned my cock into that slick warmth of her delicious twat. She moaned loud in my ear and made another grab for my head, her hands banging on the bar between. Desire was boiling in my loins, a shockwave rushing down my spine. I slowed, pushing hard into her, then started to cum with such intensity I almost passed out.

Samantha had wrapped her legs tight around my hips and was squeezing me with a vice-like grip when I exploded inside her. Each spurt of my seed brought a tiny squeak from her which I barely heard, and her hips would push up to draw me in deeper. I was literally sucked dry when I’d finished, almost falling over, collapsing nearly comatose on the sweet creature tied to my bed. We lay like that for several minutes, puffing and blowing our hot breath on each other’s necks, before I regained enough strength to lift myself a bit and roll off her. My cock came out with a wet sounding plop followed by a gush of Sam’s juices mixed with my cum.

I reached through the bars of the bed and managed to untie the rope. When her hands were free, she gathered the towel in her crotch and waddled off to the bathroom. As I lay on my back, slowly recovering, I heard Sam dribbling in the toilet, then run some water, I guessed to wash herself off a bit. In a while, she returned to stand in the bedroom doorway looking like Venus incarnate, sweaty tousled hair and all. I held out my hand to her and she came to me, moving cat like across the bed to snuggle close with her head on my chest. She looked up into my eyes.

“Well,” I said with a grin, “that was quite nice.”

Samantha looked down. I saw that her lip quivered, just a bit. There was something bothering her, I thought, perhaps it had all been too nice. I took her hands in mine, examining her wrists for marks. The soft nylon rope hadn’t done any real damage to her wrists despite the workout she’d given them. There was redness around them from the rubbing and straining but it didn’t look too bad. She watched as I rubbed the marks gently, then I gave her a little kiss.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

I took her hand in mine to lead her to the bathroom and I turned on the shower. When the water was warm, I let Sam get in, then stepped in behind her. I tenderly rubbed her luscious body all over with a soapy cloth, ever so gently on her nipples and between her legs. I gave myself a quick once over. Sam took the washcloth from me to scrub my back, spending wonderful minutes on my ass, and in front, softly across my dick and balls. We held each other close, rubbing our soapy slick bodies together, then I used the hand held spray to rinse us off. I asked if I could do her hair.

I got Sam to kneel in the bottom of the tub and I knelt behind her. I gathered up the mass of her beautiful mane and worked some shampoo into it. I guess I made a fool of myself telling her over and over how lovely her hair was, but I thought it really was stunning. After the wash, I used some conditioner I found, working it into her scalp and along those luscious strands. My cock was hard again and it was so tempting to push it in from behind, but I managed to resist. I suspected there would be a better opportunity later on. At least a more comfortable one.

Another rinse and I had Sam step out of the tub so I could dry her off. I ran my comb through her hair, then I went downstairs to get her clothes. I pulled my shorts on, Sam wore just the cotton dress, and I fixed some tea and the rest of the pie, which we had outside in the back yard. It was a nice summer evening, a gentle breeze, few bugs.

“I could drive you home,” I began, “but I’d much rather you spent the night here with me. We could maybe do something tomorrow before I take you back.”

Her voice was soft. “You want me to stay?”

“If you’d like to,” I said. “Of course, I’d have to chain you to the bed tonight.”

I saw a little grin pull at the corners of her mouth. Her awe-inspiring orgasms must have scared off a previous boyfriend at one time or other. I thought that might have been what was bothering her before, that she’d grossed me out with all the thrashing and squirting she’d done earlier on. While I could see she’d be more than a handful in bed, I felt honoured that it was my doing that brought about such a display of raw passion, and I told her so in as many words. That seemed to lift her spirits immensely. As we strolled the garden in the moonlight, she opened up a little more to me.

“I had a boyfriend in college,” she told me, “with whom I thought I’d be really happy. He’d do stuff to me, like what you did, but more so. But after several weeks, we broke up. He said that he thought I was swell and all, but he thought I was a little too much to handle. He lived in residence, and one day up in his room, well, I guess we made too much noise. I did. Anyway, guys on the floor razzed him about it for a long time.”

We’d sat on the bench beside the fishpond; the goldfish lazing at the surface, hoping for a bug to land.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed about the way you are, Sam. Not a lot of people can just let go as you do, just let the passion carry you off like that. I have to say that I’m very happy to have found you and I’d be pleased to try to give you the happiness you’ve been looking for.”

Movement in the pond caught Sam’s attention and she leaned forward to watch three fish, flashing silver and gold, attack something that had fallen in. I stroked her damp hair. She snuggled closer and I held her in my arms. I whispered in her ear.

“What can I do for you, Samantha? How can I make your deepest fantasy come alive?”

Activity in the pond had subsided, the winner gagging on a big moth crammed in its mouth. Sam stared at the pond. I hoped I hadn’t spooked her with my question. I felt her shudder. She spoke, softly at first.

"Paul, the boyfriend I had at college, he used to punish me sometimes. Not seriously, but just fooling around. He’d sometimes give my ass a swat; hold me down and spank me a few times, you know. One time we were at a friend’s house; we were alone. He tied me up to the bed. He used his belt to whip me on the bum. At first, it was just in fun, but then he didn’t stop, just kept on hitting me on my bum, my back, and my legs. It started to really hurt a lot, but he still didn’t stop, even after I started to scream for him to stop, but he just kept on slashing me over and over with the belt.

“Finally, he stopped. I was crying into the pillow and Paul sat beside me to try to comfort me. He said he was really sorry and that he didn’t know what came over him. He untied me and later on took me home. We didn’t see each other for two weeks, but then I went with him to dinner at a nice restaurant. He told me over and over how sorry he was and how he’d never do anything like that again. That was the day we broke up. I didn’t want to see him anymore after that. I was afraid to.”

I let the silence stretch out, then I said, “Sam, it’s not very nice what happened to you. I know that it’s all too easy to get carried away in a situation like that, but in a power exchange scene one has to trust that the other won’t go too far, won’t try to push someone beyond their limits. Perhaps your boyfriend wanted to push you just a bit, and then he let things get out of hand, but when it stopped being fun for you, he should have had enough control to stop. A little pain can spice things up sometimes, but for a lot of people it’s just not the right thing.”

“No, Jim.” Sam said. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t scared of the pain when he was hitting me. I was afraid of how it felt.”

She paused for a moment, then went on in a quiet shaky voice. “I got scared because I started to like it.”

I sat dumbstruck for several seconds. My wife used to like it too. Sometimes it would frighten and amaze me how someone could find such pleasure in such agony. Susan had tried to explain it to me several times; how it would consume all other thoughts, free her mind and body to experience a kind of nirvana which would invariably end in such an incredible flood of release it would leave me as exhausted as she. I never could understand it. But the proof was in her striped, sweaty body hanging in the chains, her cries of anguish and screams of lust echoing in the basement, and after, days, weeks after, my precious Sue, so quiet, subdued, so demure. The inner fire shining bright in her lovely eyes.

“Oh, Sam,” I choked back a tear. "My wife, God rest her soul, she liked it too. I was, at first, loathe to hurt her, to mark that beautiful body of hers. But each time we did it, I could see afterwards, such a calm, such peace it would bring to her. The marks would fade but the feelings seemed to linger long after. It took some time for us to find the balance between what she wanted and how much I was willing to give. ‘Harder you wimp’ she’d yell, ‘MORE!’ She’d curse me and I’d put a bit more snap in the next swing, the next stroke. I could see it start to build in her and I’d slow, bank the fire with a flick here, and there. Then, I’d guide her through it, watching spellbound while she shook the frame, rattling her chains, become totally consumed by the force gripping her. So pure, sweet.

“I’d take her down, carry her upstairs, and tend her wounds. I’d feel low, what I’d done to her. But at some point, she would look deep into my eyes and she would thank me. Thank me for letting her experience that, and for being there for her after. I’d sit up with her, sometimes all night. A glass of water, help her to the bathroom. Just sit and stare in awe at her. She would be so full of life after a session, so alive. So alive.”

I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. I’d done all the crying, a year’s worth, after the accident. It was painful remembering those times, though. I held Samantha tight, drawing strength from her. We sat for a while in the quiet of the night, neither of us wanting to break into the silence, to spoil the mood. Finally, I said ‘let’s go to bed’ and we left the bench by the fishpond to go back inside.

I found a piece of chain and two brass padlocks. It’s funny, but after all this time I knew right where to look for them. When Sam finished in the bathroom, I showed her the locks, how the key opened both of them. She got on the bed and I locked one end of the chain around her right ankle, the other end to the bed frame, and put the key on the table on my side of the bed. We cuddled for a while, then Sam spoke.

“Jim?” she asked. “I know maybe I shouldn’t ask, but I just have to. Would you, you know? Could you do what you talked about in the garden, to me?”

After only a moments hesitation I said, “Sure, Sam. If you want me to, I could. But I won’t do it now. Next weekend, after you’ve thought about it, and are sure you still want me to, I will.”

“Thanks, Jim.”

We drifted off to sleep. Several times that night I woke, the girl’s luscious body pressed against mine, and I remembered what I had, what I’d missed for too long now. What I hoped, what I needed, to have once more.

[Part 2]

Morning’s grey light pushed past my eyelids as I began to waken. Samantha’s head was on my shoulder, my arm around her, my fingers tangled in her hair. I could feel her leg over mine, the chain around her ankle digging into my shin. Her steady breathing pushed her little belly rhythmically against my side. The scent of last night’s passion still lingered in the air.

I shifted slightly to get the feeling back into my arm and Sam’s eyes flickered open. She looked up and our eyes locked. She smiled.

“Morning, sweety,” I said.

Sam moved her leg, discovering the chain locked around her ankle. She brought her hand down to encounter my usual morning erection. She giggled and wrapped her hand around it. She moved her head downward, trailing her hair across my chest, to touch her tongue on the end of my cock, then shifted a bit more to take the head into her mouth. Sam got onto her knees, then bent to continue sucking on me. I stroked her side with my hand, stretching to feel her ass. She tried to move her bum up closer to me, but was pulled up short by the chain on her ankle, the lock banging against the bed frame, loud in the quiet of early morning. I obliged by moving around a bit until I could stroke her pussy. She continued the blowjob.

Her two labia rings were fascinating me. I tugged on them, gently of course, but then a little harder. I asked if that hurt and she shook her head, no. I yanked a bit harder. Sam put her teeth to my cock, not hard, but I got the idea. I flicked her rings with my fingertip, hearing them tinkle together. I could actually hear the pitch change as her lips puffed up with her arousal. Amazing. I pushed one finger inside her, stroking her in there, feeling the searing heat at her centre, slippery wetness beginning to build.

Sam started to bob her head on my cock. I slid in another finger, rubbing her clit with my thumb. Her movements became more energetic, sucking me hard, taking my cock deeper and deeper each time until she managed to bottom out with it deep down her throat. I started to get dangerously close then, and had to close my eyes to the sight of her delectable body for fear of losing it totally. Sam seemed to sense the change and removed her mouth from my cock. She sat back on her heels, pushing herself harder on my hand. Then she put one leg over to straddle me.

She tried to get her pussy over my throbbing dick but the chain on her leg wouldn’t let her. She pulled her foot against it, but of course, steel doesn’t stretch much. I amused myself for a minute watching her struggle, then I moved around until we lined up better and she sank down, enveloping me in slick, soft, warmth. At first she just sat there with my cock inside her, grinning wide as her juices leaked past it. Then she started a slow grinding against me, moving her hips in a little circle, stirring her pot with my dipper. She’d raise herself up and I could see her rings on either side of my cock. Once, I put my fingers there to press them against me. I could feel the two rings against my cock, two points of hardness in all that soft flesh. Wild.

Sam bent down to kiss me and started a slow stroking of my dick by moving back and forth on top of me. I snagged her nose ring between my lips. I gathered up her hair in my two hands and pulled her head to mine while I toyed with her nose ring with my tongue. Sam moaned loud as a tremor ran through her, her foot pulling against the chain, rattling the lock. She began to buck harder on me, grinding her clit against my pubic bone. I was close too. A few moments later, I pushed hard up into her as her cunt clamped tight on my cock. We gave voice to our lust in grunts and cries of ecstasy as we locked together in mind-blowing orgasm.

Samantha’s long thick hair covered us both, draped from her head like a soft tickling blanket. Our faces were close, cocooned within her lush mane, and I held her tight, kissing her softly for a while, savouring the peaceful after effects of our wild passion. My cock grew soft inside her, slipping out eventually, followed by a gush of warm wetness that I could feel spreading over my thighs and running down to the sheets underneath me. Definitely will need to do the laundry tonight, I thought. Sam moved off me and I reached for the key. I opened the lock, freeing her foot from the chain, then removed the other end from the bed.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I start some breakfast,” I said to her.

Sam went off to the bathroom and I stripped off the sodden sheets from the bed. I gathered up enough stuff for a load, then went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. I waited until Sam was finished in the shower before turning on the washing machine so as not to blast her with cold water. I had some bacon and eggs in the pan when Sam joined me in the kitchen looking fresh and clean, eyes sparkling and a big grin on her face. I poured her some coffee.

I served my guest her breakfast, then went to the door for the morning paper. Over the meal, we looked at the entertainment section. There were things going on at Harbourfront, a touristy area on the city’s waterfront. There is usually music of some sort in a big band shell there, and generally quite a nice place to spend an afternoon. Sam agreed. After I finished eating, I grabbed a quick shower. I made up the bed with fresh sheets. When I was done I couldn’t find Sam, then I looked out back, past the trees and saw her, sitting on the bench beside the pond. Morning clouds had given way to bright sunshine, a promise of a glorious day. I took a coffee, a few fish pellets, and went out to join her.

Sam looked up as I approached, smiling brightly. I held out my hand to drop the fish food into hers, then sat beside her. Sam tossed a few pellets in, then watched as the fish darted around the plants, flashing in the bright sunlight to come up and snatch the food. As if on cue, a big lunker jumped right out of the water to flop down on a lily pad, thrashed a bit, then rolled back into the water. Sam giggled with glee, a soft tinkling in the still morning air. I snuggled closer, nuzzled her neck, and breathed in the girl’s fresh scent.

“I can’t tell you,” I began, “how glad I am to have met you, Sam. You are a really nice girl.”

“Thank you,” she replied, then added, “Sir.”

“It’s Jim,” I said. “You don’t have to call me sir, or master. When we’re outside like this, we’re equals, OK? Other times, like last night, it’s different. If you want me to be ‘master’ that’s fine.”

“Thank you, master.”

I laughed, and so did she. Then she started to get a serious look about her.

“Did you mean,” she asked, “what you said last night, about, you know.” She blushed a bit. “About spanking me?”

“Samantha,” I said. “You honour me by placing your trust in me to do that. And yes, I would be pleased to do it to you. Don’t think you have to or anything. Last night was great, for me. Very nice. I would be more than happy if we stayed at that level of pleasure. If we do this and you find it’s not for you, that’s fine too, but if we take that step, and if that’s what you want, I want you to be sure you know that I’ll give you only what I’m certain you can handle.”

We sat for a moment, then Sam said, “Thank you…Jim.”

“Come on,” I said. “I want to show you something.”

We stood up and I took Sam inside and down to the basement. In the rec room, I switched on the lights, then walked her around the room, pointing out the concealed hooks in the ceiling, in the walls behind pictures. Mounting points for devices of some sort, anchors for ropes, or chains. The heavy coffee table in the centre of the room, subtle wear points here and there, as if a rope or something had rubbed at the finish. In the workshop, I brought down a wooden box, carvings on the sides and top, dusty. Untouched for years. I carried it reverently to the bench where I removed the twisted wire from the hasp and lifted the lid. We both looked inside in wonderment. I took some items from inside, my heart hammering in my chest, visions and memories from a time so long ago.

The leather dry and stiff. Metal work, buckles, and chain; not as shiny and bright as I remembered. In the bottom, a couple of wood paddles that made Sam gasp, a small flogger, the strands twisted, dried out, the coiled whip in the very bottom. Untouched, unloved. Happy mementos from a past filled with joy.

Was it wrong, what I was doing? It somehow felt wrong, letting another woman see these things. Samantha’s fingers touched the smooth surface of the paddle. That waxed surface, which had smacked my wife’s ass over and over until she cried out in pain, her screams shrill, deafening. Her moans as she orgasmed, low and throaty. Someone had told me, when I was at the lowest point, that Susan would have wanted me to get over her death, to move on with my life. I now hoped that was true.

I took one of the leather cuffs and buckled it around Sam’s wrist. She stood silent as I did, then she slowly brought her hand up to look at it. It was just a bit loose on her wrist; hers was a little thinner than Sue’s had been. I took her hand in mine, felt around the cuff, then brought it to my face and kissed her wrist. The smell as I inhaled, the faint smell of the leather and, could it be? Susan?

I took the cuff off Sam’s wrist, tenderly placed everything inside the box, and closed the lid. I left it on the workbench, under the light. I walked Sam back up to the kitchen, poured two cups of coffee, and sat with her at the table. Neither of us had broken the silence since we entered the house. I now spoke.

“It felt a bit strange showing you those things, Sam. Showing you my wife’s things. We had a lot of fun with all that stuff, many memorable moments. Yesterday, I feel, marked a turning point in my life. I know that I have a lot of emotional baggage that I’ve been carrying around, for too long now. You’ve only known me for a short while, and I can understand if you don’t want to be bothered with me, but I really think I could give you what you want, make you happy, if you’ll let me. I know that I’d love to try.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it was,” Sam said, “to lose someone like that. Your wife was a lucky woman to have what she had. When you took me in your arms that first time, last night, I saw then what you are like. When you sat and ordered me to take off my dress, I knew that I would do anything you asked of me. Last night was wonderful, Jim. I want to see you more, lots more. Next weekend I want you to do those things to me. I need you to do it.”

I had to smile then. What an ego boost. This lovely creature practically begging me to paddle her bum, perhaps worse. I reached for her hand and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Sam used my comb to brush out her hair while I brushed my teeth and got ready. I watched her as she tied her hair back with the piece of red ribbon again. I held her in a tight embrace for a while before we went out and got in the truck for the drive down town.

It was a gorgeous, roll down the windows kind of summer day as I sped down the highway. With my pretty companion by my side I felt on top of the world. About half an hour later I was nosing along, looking for a parking spot. It was still early and I found a place not too far away. The area was crowded with lots of people walking around, taking in the sights, the nice weather. We stopped and had lunch, fish and chips at an open-air cafe by the water, then wandered around some more. A big area was packed with vendors’ tables selling all kinds of stuff.

Sam found a nice short leather skirt, which I liked as well.

“Go try it on,” I told her.

Sam disappeared behind a curtain. She came out a moment later and held up her dress for me to see. I motioned for her to hike her dress up a little more. The skirt accentuated her narrow waist nicely and highlighted her lovely legs. She saw me smile.

“You like?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said and pulled out my wallet.

“It’s a little expensive,” Sam said.

“My treat.”

“No. I couldn’t”

“My treat,” I said again. “You need a belt to go with it.”

The vendor offered me his selection of belts and I spied a nice silver chain one that I liked. I handed it to Sam. I held her dress up while she tried the belt on.

“Let me pay half then,” she said.

I gave her a frosty look. It was so cute. Her mouth clamped closed and her eyes dropped. I just had to tip her head up and give her a big kiss. She smiled again. In front of all, she took off the skirt, giving someone I’m sure, a glimpse of her thin panties before her dress fell down to cover her. She handed it to me. I paid the man, who bagged our purchase, and we set off again. Sam held my arm as we walked along the wharf, looking at all the big boats tied up there. We found a quiet spot to cuddle for a while like two star struck lovers. Later on, the beat from the bandstand drew us.

The group was good, I could tell, but not really the kind of music I liked. Sam enjoyed it though. It was late afternoon before we returned to my Jeep. Sam gave me directions to her place, an older apartment building in a nice area, just to the east of town. I wrote my phone numbers at the hospital and at home on a card, then handed it to her. She gave me her number.

“I’ll call you in a day or two,” I said. “I really want to see you again. Next Friday? Like we talked about?”

“Call me, Jim. I’d like that.”

Sam got out and I waited until she went into the building before driving away. I cruised through the streets, found the expressway, and powered up the ramp. Tunes blasting on the radio, the wind in my hair, life was, once more, good.

On the way home, I stopped at a store to pick up milk and some other things for dinner. Passing one shelf, I noticed something that I also needed. Neat’s-foot oil and some leather cleaner and conditioner. I picked up a bottle of each; I already had metal polish at home.

When I arrived home, I put on a can of soup to heat, then went down to the workroom. The box was still on the bench, where I’d left it. The flogger was a lovely piece of work. Made special by a fellow I’d talked to at a country fair, and he’d shown me some of his custom items in the back of his truck. I remembered the way it swung as I hefted it. I read the instructions on the bottles I’d bought, then poured some oil into my hand and carefully worked it into the strands of leather. I could feel the stiffness leave as the leather gratefully soaked up the nourishing oil. I left it to sit while I washed off my hands, then went up to make some dinner.

After soup and a sandwich, I returned downstairs. I spent the rest of that evening cleaning, repairing, and polishing the items from the wooden box, and the box itself, scrubbing the dust out from the carvings on its surface. I’d made most of that box. I’m no artist, so I cut the pieces of birch and fitted everything together. I copied some drawings from an old book I’d seen at a friend’s house, lovely drawings of women tied up in various ways and positions. I took the box pieces and the drawings to a local artisan and had him do the carvings. When it was all done the result was simply stunning. It still was.

The contents of the box survived their exile quite well, apart from a few small cracks here and there in the leather cuffs, which actually gave them a bit of character, I thought. The whips made it without any damage. The flogger, which had looked the worst, hung straight now, the leather strips soft and supple. More work was needed on the metal things, but I decided to call it a night and went upstairs. After watching a bit of news on the television, I went to bed.

Work started not too busy that week and I managed to finish a couple of projects. Finished the cleaning and polishing of the goodies in the box too. Wednesday, while surfing the net for some information, I stumbled across a sex site I remembered from before that gave me an idea. After trying a few incarnations of an old URL I’d thought of, without success, I hunted down a backup disk of old bookmark files. The page and the nightclub had not moved. Fetish night at the Catacombs. This Thursday night. Doors open at nine. Excellent!

That evening I called Samantha. She picked up on the third ring and I heard that soft, slightly husky voice that had started it all.

“Hi Sam, It’s me, Jim.”

“Oh hi. I was just thinking of you.”

“Listen, there’s a nightclub down town that we used to go to, and I was wondering if you would like to go tomorrow night.”

We? Oops. There was a pause, but Sam was thinking.

“I don’t have to be at work early on Friday. Not till ten thirty.”

I pressed on. “It starts at nine. If I remember, things don’t get interesting until later, but I could have you back before midnight, if you want. It’s a fetish night, a kind of a meeting of like-minded people. People like me, and you. It might be interesting.”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.”

I spelled out the URL for her. “Check out the web site. Let me know if you change your mind. Oh, if you want to go, wear something fetishy, but not too outrageous. Mostly people go there to chat and stuff. And show off. Pick you up at nine?”

“Thanks, Jim. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye Sam. Love you.” Oops, again.

There was a pause, then Sam softly said, “Love you too.”

I heard the click as she hung up, then listened to dead air as my mind churned. Things seemed to be moving kinda fast, not like it used to be. I’d had Samantha in my bed not five hours after first meeting her. And now? The L word? The buzz of the phone shook me and I hung it up. Oh well. We are both adults, and I guess we both knew what we were looking for. Finding it so suddenly was just a bit of a shock to me.

Thursday morning all hell broke loose. First, a site I’d made up for a client needed major changes. Right now. I sifted through the twenty pages, adding things they’d sent me, taking stuff out. I no sooner sent the changed files out when the Hospital called, big problems, system down. I jumped in the truck and spent the afternoon there.

After that crisis was solved, I rushed home to eat some take out, shower, and change. I looked at myself in the mirror. Black jeans, a black tee shirt. Black hiking boots. Needs something, I thought. Not a watch. No. I looked in a drawer and found the two steel bracelets I use to wear a lot, before. Just round steel rod, bent in a circle and welded closed. I spent five minutes with the metal polish, making them gleam once more, then pushed them over my hands. I didn’t remember them being so heavy but when I checked the mirror again I liked the effect.

Back in the Jeep, I pushed along the expressway and arrived at Sam’s front door at five to nine. Sam was standing in the lobby waiting for me. I watched her come out and walk over to the truck. I leaned over to open the door for her.

“You look great,” I said.

Sam was wearing the short leather skirt I’d bought for her. She had on a tight, belly revealing, silky looking shirt and had a black leather vest over that, open in front. Her arms were bare, as were her legs. Thick white socks at her ankles and black boots completed the outfit. She had on the chain belt and she reached into her pocket to pull out a matching silver dog chain. She held it up to her neck.

“Would this be too much?” she asked me.

I took the chain from her. Just your standard doggie choke chain, but its links matched her belt almost perfectly. I put it over her head and worked it on. It was a tight fit over her head, but it fell down nicely around her neck. I gathered up her hair to pull it through from under the chain.

“It’s perfect,” I said.

When I’d put the chain on Sam, I watched her eyes following my bracelets. She reached out and touched one, felt its weight. Solid steel, the feelings that they brought to me, bewitching, in a way. She told me that she liked them.

I got the truck moving and pulled out onto the street. It was only ten minutes to the club, the street busy with people and cars since there was a lot of bars and dance clubs in that area. I pulled into a parking lot, paid the man, and we walked up to the club. It was just like I remembered it.

My wife and I used to come here a few times a year. We always had a swell time, met many interesting people, and made a few good friends. Friends I had not seen since, then. Inside I recognised a few faces, talked to a few people. Introduced Sam. She was a bit nervous at first, but after being warmly greeted by my acquaintances I could see her grow more at ease. Her jewellery sparkled in the dimly lit bar, as did that of everyone else. Not quite jewellery, some of it. Chains, buckles on ever more bizarre costumes, harnesses. A good crowd, that night.

I watched Sam stare in wonder, or awe, at two lovely ladies, decked out in most intricate harnesses. The two girls were beautiful indeed, twins, no less, and to make sure they didn’t loose each other they were handcuffed together. They both wore wide leather collars. Attached to each was a thin chain lead. I tore my eyes from the girls to follow the chains to the hand holding on to the ends. The man’s other black leather gloved hand was extended towards me. I shook it.

“Mike! How the hell are you?”

“Long time no see, Jim,” said Mike. “And who’s this darling creature?” he asked, turning to Samantha.

I introduced Sam to Mike, a guy I’d known since high school. Captain of the football team, student union president, all around good guy. I felt it was unnecessary to mention he was a Dominant; the two girls with him had knelt by his side as we spoke.

“Let’s go find a table,” he said.

His two subs stood and we went to Mike’s table near the stage. Mike was a regular here, often providing some of the nightly entertainment. In deference, I thought, to Samantha’s newness to the scene, he allowed his girls chairs to sit around our table.

“Lisa and Liselle,” he introduced his lovely girls. “Found them when I was in Germany last year.”

The two looked to their master for permission. I saw Mike nod.

“Pleased to meet you, Sir, Madam,” they said in unison, the accent touchingly charming. The girls briefly shook Samantha’s hand, the handcuffs jangling. They didn’t shake mine; I didn’t offer it. Certain complex rules had to be honoured, amongst them, no touching another Dom’s sub unless explicitly offered. The club had rules too, mostly to keep things legit, and for the patrons’ safety. Sam could get away with it since it was understood that she was my sub, therefore the three girls at the table were as equals.

A bottle of white wine magically appeared on the table. A tray of glasses was brought over. The twins poured and served, with grace. Mike raised his glass in my direction.

“A toast,” he said. “To Jim Bradson. Good to see you back.”

He turned to Sam. “And with a lovely lady. He’ll do right by you, darling.”

Sam and I listened to Mike describe his latest adventures. As usual, it was far from boring. Mike had always lived life to the fullest. Not taking, he was kind hearted to a fault, but seizing the moment, making it his. Shaking passions from the simplest things. He asked what I’ve been up to.

I thought for a moment. I shook my head. “Not a damn thing, Mike. Work, sleep, exist.” I turned to Samantha, took her hand in mine. “It took this fine young lady to wake me up, to make me see again.” I pulled her close, hugged her tight. We locked eyes, then lips, in a long smooch.

“Oh ya! That’s the way,” exclaimed Mike.

He could see it; see it in the way we embraced, in our eyes. I knew it too, that Samantha and I were meant for each other. Corny, I know, but destined to find each other. I hooked my fingers in the chain around her neck, pulled gently, possessively. We broke the kiss. Sam sighed softly as I held her head, her chain, stroked her hair.

Another bottle of wine was brought. Sam needed to use the bathroom so I went with her. After she came out, we walked around a bit in the club, looked in on the other rooms. Women, and men, some chained to the walls, to various pieces of equipment. Being spanked lovingly by their masters or mistresses. No sex. One of the club rules. No genital nudity, but bare breasts were allowed. No blood letting, no water sports. The bondage was mostly symbolic, the spanking too. The real deal takes place later, in privacy, at home. After a while we returned to Mike’s table. His two girls were gone.

“Where’s Lisa and Liselle?” I asked.

With a flourish of his arm, Mike said, “It’s Show Time!”

As if that was the cue, which knowing Mike it probably was, the lights on the stage flared to brightness. Over the speakers, the voice of the announcer boomed out.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen. Catacombs is proud to present: Mistress Natasha.”

Oh-oh. Mistress Natasha. Kate, as I knew her, stepped out on the stage with a purpose. In her hand were two chain leashes; on the other ends were Lisa and Liselle, still handcuffed together. A roar went up from the crowd. The bar was packed now, people streaming in from the other rooms, standing room only. Mistress handed the leashes to another man dressed in, black, naturally. A solid looking bar was lowered from the roof. Padded cuffs dangled. The man led the twins to the bar, attached the four cuffs around four wrists. Then, from off stage, the bar was raised until the two girls heels were just touching the floor, their bodies stretched alluringly. Kate looked stunning in an all red-coloured outfit, silver accents gleaming in the stage lights. A wicked black whip hung coiled on her belt. She stood tall, arms folded across her chest, waiting while the twins were readied for her.

It was when Susan first expressed an interest in being whipped that I was set up with Kate. I tried spanking Sue, tried a whip on her. But it never felt right. I didn’t want to hurt her. I talked about it with Mike.

“No problem,” he said. “I know a lady who does it for a living. Makes good money with it, has her own dungeon and everything. You go see her; she’ll show you how. Let you have a taste, so you know how it feels.”

I talked about it with Sue. “Great idea,” she said.

Yeah, right.

Next day I was knocking on Kate’s door, a bungalow on a quiet suburban street. She led me downstairs. Showed me how. Gave me more than a taste. I couldn’t sit properly for a week. But I found out what I needed to know. It had hurt, sure, but I did see, I began to understand the attraction. My face must have turned as red as my butt when Kate pointed it out, after she’d finished with me. I hadn’t even realised it myself. My cock, standing proud, as hard as a rock.

On the stage now, Kate uncoiled the whip. She stepped up to the two girls, their harnesses removed, skimpy leather thong bottoms keeping it legal. The show began. Mistress Natasha slashed at the two writhing beauties, not all that hard, not like she’d done me, but putting on a good show nonetheless. The marks appearing on the twins’ bodies were real. As were their reactions to it. Samantha was squeezing my hand so hard I felt the bones grating together. I moved my chair closer to her, put my arm around her. She’d tremble at each blow of the whip. I held her tighter, and with my free hand I stroked her breasts through her slippery top. Her nipples were two hard pebbles pushing against the material.

Samantha’s eyes were wide, fixed on the scene upon the stage. She was squirming on her seat now, flexing her thighs. I stroked her nipple, gave it a little pinch. She began to make little noises. She was close to cumming, I realised. I whispered in her ear.

“Your turn, tomorrow night, Samantha.”

Sam went tense. Her eyelids lowered. She began to cum, letting out a low throaty growl as she started to shake and grind her bottom against her chair while I tweaked and rubbed her nipples. Mike looked over at us, at Samantha. I saw his grin spread as he realised what was happening to Sam. He chuckled.

Kate finished the show with a flurry of lashes to both girls, striking them hard, making them scream and twist. Red tracks marked them from shoulders to knees, on their backs, and a few in front where the whip had curled around their bodies. As suddenly as it began, she stopped, the girls writhing and moaning loudly. The crowd went wild, roaring its approval as the bar was lowered a bit and the two girls were released. They were led off stage by Mistress Kate.

Perhaps ten minutes later Kate returned the twins to Mike’s care, still handcuffed together but wearing soft cotton robes. One shoulder was bare, the arm with the handcuff. The robes tied closed along one side. The two girls, foregoing their chairs, preferred to kneel beside Mike. Kate came over to sit beside me. She gave me a little kiss on the cheek, smiled at Sam.

“Jim, you old dog, I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been OK, Kate. Keeping busy.”

“So I see. Who’s this pretty thing?” she asked.

I introduced Samantha, told Kate we’d just met last weekend.

“Mmmm,” Kate actually purred with delight. “Bring her around some time Jim. I’d love to see more of her.”

I had to laugh. “I may just do that, Kate.”

Sam looked at me with wide eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, or expectation. I chuckled wickedly to her.

“Or I might just keep her at home, chained to my bed.”

“Jim,” Mistress Natasha said, “For this one, I’d make a house call.”

We all laughed, even the twins. Kate had to leave; she had an appointment booked, she said. Mike caught my eye, motioned to the bar. I told Sam to wait; I’d be right back. Mike and I stood, walked over to the bar where he ordered us drinks, me asking for a coffee since I would be driving. We stood at the bar and chatted for a while. Mike asked me about Sam, and I told him how I’d answered her ad and she was the result.

“Wow!” he said, “That’s great. I thought those things were for losers, but she’s a real knockout.”

“Well, she knew what she wanted but she had a couple of bad experiences,” I said. “I guess she figured it would be a safe way to meet someone, people like us.”

“Ya, I guess it would,” Mike agreed.

While we were talking, I kept looking over at our table, at the lovely ladies there. Sam had moved over and was talking with the twins. Liselle, or was it Lisa, lifted the other’s robe a bit and Sam starred intently at the girl’s whip marks.

“Check it out,” I nodded towards the table. Mike turned to look. Samantha traced one of the red marks with her fingertip. The twins held each other. The three talked, no doubt about the nature of the conversation. I said to Mike that I thought his girls were lovely.

“Fuck, Jim,” he said, “those two are the best. Hot? You can’t imagine how much. They’ll kill me in a year or two, but I’ll die with a stiff prick and a smile on my face. Then when I’m gone, they’ll just do each other.”

“No way.”

“Way, dude. After they finish with me, they get it on with themselves. I sit back and watch. Yup, those two are keepers, for sure. One night they started spanking each other, each trying to make the other cum first. Fucking near blew my mind, watching them go at it.”

The girl’s talk had ended and I motioned that we should get back. It felt late as I sat beside Sam again. I said that we should go. Sam said yes, so we stood and said our goodbyes. Mike told me not to be a stranger, and I said I’d see him again soon. The evening had strengthened my resolve to pull myself from the shell I’d built up around me since the death of Susan. If Sam was to be a part of my life now, so much the better.

I held Sam close as we left the club and walked to the car. She was quiet as I drove back to her place, lost in thought. When we got to her place, she asked me if I could come up for coffee.

“Well, it’s late,” I said. It was well past midnight.

“Please?” she asked and I said, “OK.”

She lived on the seventh floor, a nice one bedroom with a view of the lake, sort of. The first thing I noticed was a big tank of fish, four plain goldfish, but the setup complemented the room nicely. The apartment had a kind of cozy cottage decor, nothing expensive or elaborate. Comfortable. I kicked off my shoes. Sam put the kettle on, then came to sit beside me. She didn’t say anything at first.

I broke the ice.

“Did you enjoy the club?” I asked.

“Yes, Jim,” she began, “I did. While you were off with Mike, I spoke with Lisa and Liselle.”

“I watched you.”

Sam went on. “I asked them about the whipping. I expected them to tell me about how much pain they were in, but you know? All they talked about was how much they enjoyed it. They said they were a little disappointed it didn’t go on longer, that it wasn’t hard enough for them.”

“Kate’s the best. She knew what she was doing.”

Sam smiled. “Your friend Mike is going to have fun tonight. The girls were primed.”

I chuckled softly.

Sam heard the kettle boil and stood up. I told her tea would be fine. In a moment, she returned carrying a tray with the teapot and two cups. She sat beside me once more. She was quiet again. After a few minutes, she poured the tea, then settled into the couch, nestled close to me. She spoke.

“I don’t know if I can do this. I had a picture of it in my mind, of how it would be. But seeing it for real, on that stage tonight, I’m not so sure now.”

“You don’t know, Sam. No one knows, their first time. There’s only one way to find out if that kind of thing is right for you. You have to feel it. You have to experience that kind of pain to understand if it’s something you can derive any pleasure from. Kate told me this once, that everyone is different. Some people like to be tied down while they are beaten; others enjoy expressing their self-discipline by submitting freely to the lash. A spanking with a bare hand, a paddle, the whip, each a distinctly different feeling. Maybe you’ll find no pleasure in any of it, and that’s fine too. But then, at least, you will know and understand what it’s all about.”

I told Samantha how I couldn’t understand it at first. How such pain could be transformed into any kind of pleasure. But I had allowed Kate to show me, let me feel it. And after, I knew it was not something I would seek, but at least I understood it better.

“You let Kate whip you?”

“When I was younger, first married to Susan, yes. I had to learn how to do it right. I had to understand why Sue wanted me to hit her. And after, I did. It was the night after, the marks on me, the pain, still fresh in my mind. Susan used to talk about that first time, how it was the best night of her life. A kind of an awakening in the both of us.”

I sipped my tea, stroking Sam’s head soothingly.

“Tomorrow night, Sam. I’ll pick you up around six. Dinner, and then…”

Sam thought a bit, then said, “OK.”

“Just remember,” I said, “I want this to be good for you. Any time you want to stop or need me to go slower, I will.”

I stood to go. At the door, I held Sam close, gave her a kiss which she returned with a surprising passion. When we finished, I opened her door and left. Leaving her apartment was difficult to do. I would have loved to stay and fuck her brains out; I felt that she wanted me to. But she was to take an important step the next night, and I wanted her to be ready for it. If this worked out as I hoped it would, there would be plenty of fucking later.

Friday morning, I handled a minor crisis at the hospital with my usual efficient aplomb and called Sam around three-thirty to tell her I’d pick her up at five. When I pulled up in front of her building, I saw her waiting for me in the lobby. She ran, smiling widely, to the truck and climbed in. She leaned over and gave me a huge kiss before we set off. I drove to a restaurant nearby where we had a light supper. After, we went back to my place.

As I got closer to home, I could sense Sam’s unease building. However, my chat with Mike last night had been just what I needed to firm my resolve. I knew that I would have to take the upper hand with Sam; that was what she expected and also what she wanted. I’d gone over this scene in my mind several times the past week. All I had to do was follow the script and guide her through it, ad-libbing where necessary, but hopefully it would all play out satisfactorily. I’d set the stage this morning, laid out the props. Now, the actors had arrived.

I drove up my drive and parked in front of the house. We got out and I moved up to Samantha. I took her arms to look into her eyes.

“You’re sure about this?” I asked her.

She looked down. “I’m not going to back out now.”

She looked up again. “Yes. I want this. Sir.”

I opened the door to the Jeep. “Take off all your clothes, put them on the seat.”

Sam looked at me. She looked around her. There was no one around for a mile. Even from the road, the way I’d parked the truck, no one passing by would see anything. I saw it in her eyes before her hands moved, that she would do it. Slowly at first, she began to remove her dress. I almost laughed out loud, stifling it with effort, as I saw she had on a silky slip underneath, slippery smoothness to later caress her soon to be tortured bum. Sam took off all her clothing, even her shoes, and placed them on the seat of the Jeep. When she stepped away, I reached in and clicked the locks, then slammed the door closed. Sam stood naked in my front yard, shivering slightly but not from cold. Trembling with barely suppressed excitement.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I walked up to the front door, Sam following meekly behind. I turned the key in the lock and entered. The cuffs on the small table inside the door gleamed in the light, black leather, shiny silver accents. I took Sam and firmly pushed her against the wall. I applied the cuffs to her limbs, two for her wrists, two for her ankles, closing the buckles and using four small brass padlocks to secure them on her. I took the bigger lock, pulled the key, and pocketed it. Then I turned her around and moved her hands behind her back. Slipping the lock in the two rings on the cuffs, I clicked it closed.

I spent a few moments smoothing her hair over her arms and molesting her tits. I took her head in my hands, pressed her up against the wall, her hard nipples against my chest, and I kissed her passionately. When I moved away she swayed slightly, then opened her eyes.

“Let’s go,” I said.

In the kitchen, I had her sit down. On the table before her were two locks and a short piece of bright chain, which I used to hobble her. I took her arm to bring her to her feet, and then I guided her to the basement door. The chain between her ankles was short, I knew, and she had a little trouble on the stairs. I held her arm on the way down, in case she stumbled, but she didn’t.

There was a door to the rec room that I hardly ever closed. I’d installed it, salvaged from an old house nearby that had been demolished. Heavy, oak I thought. Dark lacquer finish. The sort of door to, perhaps, A Dungeon? At the bottom of the stairs, I rattled the knob, then shouldered the door aside, banging it heavily on the stop inside the room. The hinges even creaked a bit. I heard Sam’s gasp from behind me as I strode into the room.

I snapped on the lights. I’d turned all the track lights towards the centre of the room, to the coffee table there. On the couch, a blanket and a pile of white nylon rope. Taking up the folded blanket, I draped it on the top of the coffee table, forming a soft padded surface for my captive. I turned to Samantha, who was still standing shell shocked in the doorway.

“Come here.”

Sam shuffled slowly towards where I stood. When she reached me, I turned her around and unlocked her hands. I bent down to remove the chain from between her ankles. Then I guided her to lay face down on top of the low table. Her head was facing the bar and when she looked up, I heard her gasp again. The front of the bar was finished with mirror tiles, patterned in a gold leafy design. I glanced and saw Samantha’s reflection, a worried, slightly scared look on her face, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

The coffee table was a solid, rather ugly looking thing I’d found at a flea market one day. Something one wouldn’t look twice at, a place to put your beer, rest your feet on. Suitable for a cottage, or a rec room, perfect for what I had in mind. Susan always enjoyed her sessions on the table. After I’d lugged the thing home and downstairs, I had made a few modifications. Four one-inch holes bored along the thick rails underneath the top, along each side. If one looked underneath you would find a curious looking bracket mounted in the centre of the top with a hole through it. After I’d refinished the table, my modifications blended into the utilitarian look of the thing nicely.

I picked up the length of rope and began to tie Sam down to the top of the table. I threaded one end through the ring on her wrist cuff, passed it through a hole in the table’s side, underneath to the other side. Through a hole there and her other cuff ring, then under, to the centre. I put both ends of the rope through the centre bracket, pulled them even, and then moved to the rear. I did basically the same thing to the cuffs on her ankles, pulling until her feet left the floor to become held fast at the sides of the tabletop. Then I threaded the two ends of the rope back through the centre bracket and, pulling up all the slack, I tied a simple slipknot. Samantha watched everything in the mirrored surface before her.

Her thighs were spread apart, knees bent, and her feet, held by the cuffs, the soles facing up, were even with the top at one end. Her hands were pinned at the sides, near her waist, about at the centre point of the table. I went behind the bar, opened the fridge, and got myself a beer. I cracked it open, then sat on the couch to watch Sam struggle.

I knew, and she discovered, that she could raise herself up off the table a few inches, but I knew, and she discovered that with her arms and legs spread like they were, it was a strain to hold that position for long. She slumped back down. She could slide herself up and down a few inches, which she tried. She found that if she stretched far enough, she could get her head off the end of the table to look underneath and see the rope tied in the centre, the ends dangling tantalizingly. One tug and she would be free. But unless she grew another arm, she would remain good and stuck, tied to the top of the table.

With her thighs spread, she could get no pressure against her pussy. When she slid herself on the freshly waxed tabletop, the blanket under her body slid with her, allowing no friction against her nipples. She turned her head to look at me. I drank my beer.

After a while, I moved closer and began to lovingly stroke her back and bum with my hands. Sam returned her gaze to the mirror, watching herself, and me, as I worked my hands up and down her lovely back. Within her strict bondage, she was already hot. Now, as I touched her, she started to arch her back, trying to grind her pussy into the blanket. I felt the muscles in her thighs straining as she fought to force some pressure against her clit, but it was no good and she fell back down, moaning softly with her need. I traced one finger through her slit, between her labia rings, and she jumped.

I stood up, drained my beer, then went to the bar and put the empty away. On the bar was a tiny brass padlock that I’d picked up earlier in the week. I held it low so Sam could see it. I opened it, then withdrew the keys and placed them on the bar. At first, Sam didn’t get it. Then her eyes got wide and I knew that she knew where that lock was going to go. I knelt down beside her and touched her there once more. Then I passed the lock through her two labia rings and carefully clicked it closed.

I’d filed off all the edges of the lock, polished it smooth. It wasn’t so heavy, but in such a sensitive place, I’m sure Sam would know it was there. Wonder of wonders, it pulled her rings down a bit, the body of the lock resting right against her clit. Sam wiggled her bum a bit, wiggled it again. I sat back down on the couch to watch. As much as her bondage allowed, and that wasn’t much, Sam started bucking and wriggling as the little lock banged and rubbed against her clitty. She started to shift her ass around, putting on a highly erotic display as she tried to get off on the lock rubbing her. But with the position she was in, combined with the little lock swinging wildly around in her crotch, she just couldn’t orchestrate the motions enough to push herself over the edge.

The wild gyrations of her shiny rings and the lock, silver and gold flashing in the lights, held me hypnotized for perhaps ten minutes while Sam thrashed on the table before me. Finally, she gave it up to lie, panting in unsatisfied heat, staring at her reflection in the mirror, sobbing slightly with frustration. I guess the sight of herself, so close to release, so helpless, would drive her to attempt to get herself off once more and she would start to move and then thrash wildly in attempt to get enough stimulation to finish, but would soon slump back down, the orgasm she so desperately craved close, but still too far.

I stood up. It was time to get the whip. I went to the back of the room and picked up the wooden box from a table there, then returned to Samantha with it. I held the box to her face while she tried to focus her eyes on the back panel. The carving on the back, my favourite for some strange reason, depicted a girl bound face up on an altar of some kind. The drawing I’d chosen for that panel was that of the classic virgin sacrifice, the stone altar, the naked girl shackled to it at wrists and ankles. The shrouded priest in the background, the knife held high. After Sam had gasped and moaned, I set the box down on the floor by the mirrored front of the bar. I left the lid open, the box positioned in such a way that Sam could see every side, either directly or in the mirror. From it, I picked out the flogger.

Before her wide eyes I shook out the supple strands, letting her get a good whiff of freshly oiled leather. She tilted up her head and we locked eyes for a brief moment. I didn’t say anything. She did not either, just returned her gaze to the mirror in front of her. I moved to her side, took my position. Sam tensed as I brought the whip back, and then made it crash down on her beautiful, unblemished behind. I put a fair amount of force into that first stroke.

Samantha let out a little “Oh!” and closed her eyes for a moment. I paused until she opened her eyes again, then let fly another. I didn’t wait for the next one, I started slashing her once about every three seconds or so, a nice easy rhythm. Her body would jerk each time and I noticed the lock on her labia rings jump and smack down on her clit. A nice bonus, I thought, as I hit her again across the bum.

I began to place my strokes upwards, softer at her lower back, where the kidneys are, but more firmly higher up. This flogger was not as wicked as some I’d seen; Sue enjoyed it as a warm up to something more serious. But for a first time it was quite suitable; nice feel to it, good balance. Oh, on the other end, the pain, not really sharp or too stingy, more like exquisite.

Sam’s body grew tense, and she strained against her bonds, but not from expectation of the next blow. I saw a small spurt of girl cum shoot from her cunt and I smiled widely. She’d had her first little orgasm of the evening. I gave her two softer, quick strokes, on each side of her, the strands finding the sides of her breasts an inviting target. She shook and moaned loud as her orgasm peaked, then began to decline.

I paused for just a moment to give her time to settle, then I continued. I began again on her bum, then slowly started to work my way downward. Her thighs, stretched slightly by her position on the table, received several well-placed blows, the strands finding their way around those lovely limbs. Once, I slightly misplaced a blow and one of the strands flicked against the lock at her opening. A gentle kiss that bounced the lock against her clit. Her legs spasmed, driving her body forwards a little. Sam moaned low and loud. I switched to a flurry of blows to the soles of her upturned feet. Her moan changed to a higher pitched wail and another gush of clear liquid practically sprayed from her cunt, drowning her rings and the lock, wetting her legs and soaking the blanket under her. She shook and writhed, trying to escape the pain at her feet while she screamed loud.

I stopped. Sam was still cumming hard as I lay my hand in her crotch and stroked her there. The sudden change of sensation brought her down with a bang and she lay panting and exhausted on the table while I gently stroked her burning hot pussy. Her skin had an all over pink glow where the whip had landed, with several spots of reddish highlights.

Samantha had yelled and screamed a lot during the session but had not once asked me to stop. Feelings of pride began to well up in me, pride in her, in the way she’d handled it. I reached under the table and pulled the rope, holding the ends to gently lower her feet to the floor. I pulled on the rope in front to draw it out and away, freeing Sam completely. Her eyes flickered open to stare up into mine. I smiled.

“Lay still,” I told her, “I’ll get something.”

From the bar, I got a bottle of witch hazel lotion, which I gently rubbed into Sam’s skin wherever it was pink and red. I applied some to the bottoms of her feet where I’d whipped her, lovingly massaging it into her tortured flesh. After I’d finished, the lotion helped to sooth her pain and she was smiling once more. I helped her off the table to stand gingerly while I kissed her passionately. Before we left the room, I snatched the keys to her pussy lock from the bar. I was going to need them later.

Upstairs I found her a soft cushion so she could sit at the table while I made us some tea. While the water heated, I sat with her. I held her hand, waited for her to speak. It wasn’t long.

“That was nice,” she said, “Not like I expected it to be.”

“Are you sore?” I asked.

“A little,” she answered. “That stuff you used helped. Thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“For showing me, for being so nice about it. I know you could have hit me harder. Maybe next time we could try it, harder I mean.”

“So you want to do this again sometime.”

Sam looked up at me, a huge grin on her face. “Yes, I would like that.”

Here was this beautiful woman, sitting naked in my kitchen except for the leather cuffs locked around her wrists and ankles, telling me that she would like me to whip her again. Harder. What a rush.

“Sam,” I said, “you handled it very well. I’m pleased that everything went so nicely and I will be happy to take things farther next time, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Master.”

I made the tea, found some biscuits, and carried it all on a tray to the bedroom. As Sam walked, I could hear the little lock between her legs clinking against her rings. We had tea in bed while I rubbed more of the soothing lotion on her whip marks, then we just lay naked together and cuddled for a long while. Sam took my throbbing cock to rub it against her, against her locked pussy. Finally, I took the keys to open her little lock and we screwed each other’s brains out for the rest of the evening.

Later on, I used the chain to lock Samantha’s foot to the bed, and she slept like that, the four cuffs still locked on her as well. In the morning, I woke to find her snuggled up close to me. I moved my hand down to push between her thighs and found the little lock attached to her rings again. I’d left it on the table by the bed last night; Sam must have woken during the night and put it on herself. When I asked her, I found out that is what she had done. I opened the small lock, then used a bigger one to attach her wrist cuffs to the headboard and we made sweet love again, her arms stretched over her head, her chained foot straining to reach me.

We showered, had breakfast, and lazed around the house. Went out for lunch. In the afternoon I let her have a taste of the wood paddle on her bum while she lay across the bed kicking and writhing with each blow. She didn’t enjoy it all that much, she told me. Stung too much. I cooked some steaks on the barbie and we dined outside. She slept Saturday night with her hands behind her back, locked in the cuffs. Woke up stiff and sore, but said she liked the feeling of being helpless all night, and we fucked once more. In the afternoon, I drove her back home.

Samantha asked me to drive around to the rear of her building. When we stopped, she held out her hand. In it were the little lock and the two keys. Sam pulled my key ring from the ignition and attached the keys for the lock onto it, then gave them back to me. Then I watched her reach under her dress and, by feel, attach her two rings together with the little lock. I heard it click shut. Sam held her dress up while I put my hand there to feel.

“See you next week, master?” she asked.

“You bet,” I said. “I’ll call you tonight.”

I watched the pretty girl with the long hair cross the parking lot and enter her building. When I got home, I took off one of the little keys and put it in a safe place.

Now, every time I see my key ring, I lovingly finger that small key and can’t help but think of the precious treasure that it opens.

[end chapter 1, The Ad.] dino@canoemail.com