Auction

"CRACK!"

    The whip lands again on my back, sending another sharp
spear of pain into my gut, and with it another wave of
agonizing, unful- filled desire crashed through me.  "Please
Master...Yes, I want it, I want it now!" I moan through clenched
teeth.

    He steps around in front of me, smiling in mock
surprise.  "My, what a lusty wench!  And you've finally admitted
it!  Well *now* you'll just have to wait.  I'm having fun doing
just what I'm doing."  And with that he disappears again behind
me, and I felt the whip descend once more, between my shoulder
blades, with a thwack and a burn.

    With the rhythm of the whip, I slip into a delirium of
pain and lust.  And lost in the rhythm, I find my mind wandering
through the events that had led me to this delicious and
frustrating predicament.

    On a whim, I had offered myself up for sale at the
"auction". What the hell, I thought to myself, what have I got
to loose?  I can explicitly eliminate sex from what I offer, and
what else could there be that someone could want that I couldn't
do?  [That thought makes me chuckle, even as yet another lash of
the whip hits me across the back of my thighs, bringing tears to
my eyes. How ignorant I had been what seemed like so long
ago...]  Be- sides, if things got out of hand, I could always
just leave, the only drawback then being that I had wasted my
time and wouldn't get paid.  Besides, I needed the money.  The
auctions sold time, not services.  Most "slaves" (as the people
being sold were jokingly called) ended up helping people move,
making dinner, giving backrubs, or serving as "ornamental
slaves", where the purchaser would, say, bring them to a party
on a leash, and show them off all night.  All in fun, of course.
Of course, "slaves" could limit what they would do to certain
things, or just say they wouldn't do certain things, as long as
they made the limits clear before the bidding began.  And never,
ever was it allowed for sex to be offered as a service, to avoid
possible charges of pimping for the auctioneers.  Of course,
some people hinted that sex would be a part of the package, and
those people (females at least) got very high bids.  Knowing
this, I very explicitly said "No sex" --- loudly, and a number
of times.  A few people who seemed to be interested at the start
were turned off by my adamant refusals.  But I didn't care; I
wouldn't want to have sex with them for all the money in the
world anyway.  Besides, I knew that lot's of people wanted me
enough to settle for just being around me for that time.

    As predicted, I had a number of people bidding on me,
and the bids went quite high.  As was fairly typical, I was
offering only four hours of my time, and when the bids hit three
digits I was smug!  But most of the people bidding were
students, and just couldn't compete with Daniel's bids --- after
all, he had an *income*!

    I had met Daniel a couple of times at parties.  He was
basically an unassuming type, blending into the background of
whatever group he was in.  He was the type of guy who always
lusts after me, but never says anything; the type I never give a
second thought.  I was quite surprised at how determined he
seemed to buy me...and also a bit relieved, because he seemed so
meek.  He would probably be in such awe of just being with me,
he couldn't get up the guts to do more than ask me to cook
dinner for him. [With a wry smile, I realize that he hadn't even
done that!  The smile brings a questioning look from my Master
(he is now working on my breasts and belly), followed by a quick
volley of five or six strokes across my thighs.  ooooh...]

    When Daniel picked me up at an arranged place and time,
I was dressed to please.  I figured that, even though I had
specified no sex, he had bought me because he lusted after me,
and I would give the guy his money's worth.  Call me a tease,
and I won't blush; I love the obviously desirous stares I get
from men, as long as they don't touch!  I was wearing a
short-short mini- skirt, and tight, low-cut tank top, and bright
yellow panties that I knew could be seen whenever I leaned over.
The tank top showed my nipples off well, with the fabric
stretching over the hard points.  My breasts are medium sized,
rounded, and firm enough that they require no bra, and they have
always attracted longing looks from the men around me.  He
stared at my breasts as he opened the car door for me, and I
gave him my best "come hither" smile.  I swear he let out a
gasp!  In the car, I asked him where he was taking me, and he
said "To my place."  After riding in silence for a bit, I asked,
"So what do you have in mind for me?"

    He looked at me with an unreadable expression and said
quietly. "I want to have sex with you."

    Oh God! I groaned to myself.  This guy is going to be a
schmuck about it, and force me to walk out on him.  I started to
tell him that hell would freeze over before I would sleep with
him, and he said, with more force, "Don't bother saying you
won't.  I *will* fuck you, and you'll love it."  He said it
simply, and with force, and I stared at him, open-mouthed.
Shit, I thought, he's going to rape me.  My God, how am I going
to get out of this?  As if in answer to my thoughts, he said,
"Don't worry, I'm not going to rape you.  I won't do anything to
you you don't want me to do."  His words were somehow both
reassuring, and ominous.  They scared me but also started my
curiosity churning in full force. Just how did this presumptuous
little dweeb propose to make me *want* to have sex with him?
And he sounded so confident!

    As we continued driving in silence, I continued watching
him.  In the past, his manner had been so unassuming, I had
never bothered to really look at him.  He was tall and very
thin, with something of a studious look about him.  But looking
carefully I could see that he was well-muscled, in a lean, tight
sort of way, under- neath his conservative dress shirt.

    [My thoughts return to the present.  Confusion.  The
whipping has stopped.  Ah, sweet relief.  But only from the
pain, not from this overwhelming desire.  Now? I plead to
myself?  Oh God, oh Master, take me down, take me!  Please,
now...?  But no, he is stopping just to change tools.  Now it's
the paddle, slapping my already ret-hot ass.  Uhhhhh, I moan, as
I remember when I first saw the tools that are now being used so
effectively on me....]

    The first thing Daniel did when we got to his house was
to instruct me to kneel in the middle of the living room.
This is silly, I thought.  This guy has some sort of dominant
fantasy or something weird.  He wants to play some stupid game.
Well fine, I can play along --- after all, I'm being well-paid.
"For the remainder of your time with me, you are to call me
'Master'."

    I almost laughed out loud!  This sounded like something
out of one of those disgusting magazines of my father's, that I
had sneaked looks at when I was young.  But I suppressed my
smile and said, putting on what I imagined to be a good
submissive look, and said, "Yes, Master."

    "Stay here.  Don't move until I tell you you can," he
said, and then looked at me expectantly.  I was confused for a
moment, then realized what he wanted.  "Yes, Master."  Boy this
guy is weird, I thought.  But I was *really* curious now,
anxious to see what bizarre activity was to follow.  He turned
and disappeared down a hall-way.

    While he was gone, I sat there on my knees, wondering
why I was putting up with this shit.  Well, I was getting a
*lot* of money for these few hours.  Besides, I was just burning
with curiosity. And something else?  I wasn't sure.  But I knew
I was eager for him to return, to find out what the next move in
the game was.

    I took advantage of his absence to study my
surroundings.  His living room looked pretty much like I would
have expected from my earlier impression of him.  Standard motel
looking furniture, well-worn.  Many bookcases almost overflowing
with books, thought I couldn't read most of the titles from my
position on the floor. In one corner was a desk with a computer
(of course).  One thing that really stood out about the room was
that it was amazingly neat and organized.  Almost compulsively,
I thought.  Although he had tons of books, papers and other
stuff, everything was arranged and stacked neatly, and it
seemed clear that everything belonged in exactly the place it
occupied.

    He didn't take long, so I didn't get a chance to look
around more carefully.  He came back with a collar and leash in
his hand.  I gasped!  He isn't going to expect me to wear
*that*, is he?  Then I calmed down, and remembered that during
the auction I had even been prepared to be an "ornamental
slave", led around on a leash *in* *public*, and somehow this
private horror seemed a blessing. What on earth had made me
think I was cut out to be auctioned as a "slave" anyway?  As
expected, he placed the collar around my neck.  It wasn't a
normal dog collar --- it had metal rings on the sides and front,
not just on the back.  He clipped the chain leash onto the ring
on the front.  "Follow me" he instructed, and I started to rise.
"Not like that.  Stay on your knees."  So I followed him down
the hallway he had just come out of, scurrying along the floor,
on my knees.  Jesus, this guy must be having a field day, I
chuckled silently.  How often does he get a gorgeous girl to
follow him around on a leash?  Well that's what he shelled out
good money for, I guess.  And I was just doing it for the money,
right?  Wasn't I?

    At the end of the hallway was a door that I figured led
to his bedroom.  I was about to protest, but then he opened the
door and I saw that this was most certainly not a bedroom.
There was no bed in sight, but there were certainly lots of
other things.  The room was dimly lit, and the walls appeared to
be black!  Oh wow, this is too weird!  The room had chains
hanging from the ceiling, various pieces of furniture, some of
which the purpose was clear, the others baffled me.  And hanging
all around the walls were all sorts of...well, whips, it looked
like.  And paddles.  More chains and ropes.  Strings.  And lots
of stuff I couldn't even name.  I couldn't do anything more than
gasp and stare.

    I didn't get long to look around, though, before he
pulled me towards a goal-posts looking thing, with a bar between
two poles across the top.  He quickly hooked the leash to a hook
on the top bar.  It was just long enough so that if I stayed up
on my knees with my back straight, the collar stayed loose
around my neck.

    He stepped back, and looked at me kneeling there, and I
felt myself blush.  Me, blush?  Why, I'm always in control, I
never get embarrassed.  But something about being there with the
leash on made me feel so exposed.  Not exposed enough for him,
it seemed though.  "Very pretty," he said, looking thoughtful,
"but I think it would be better without the clothes.  Don't you
think so too?"  He looked at me meaningfully.

    "No way, guy," I protested vehemently.  "I said before,
no sex. This is already getting real close to getting out of
hand as it is!"

    He ignored my protests, and moved off to a corner of the
room. He came back, dragging a full-length mirror, the kind that
pivots vertically in a frame on wheels.  He put it in front of
me, so that I could see myself kneeling, and asked again "Don't
you think this would make a pretty picture without clothes?"  I
kept my mouth shut, and refused to look at the mirror.  "Okay,
if that's how you want it," he nodded.  "In that case, there
isn't much I can do here.  Just this..."  He went to the wall
and brought back four padded leather straps, with buckles.  Oh
no! Sure enough, he fastened them around my wrists and ankles
deftly, and then attached each wrist to the same side ankle with
a short length of chain.  He moved the mirror back a few feet,
so that I had a better view of the room.  "I'm going to the
living room to read a book.  If you change your mind about
taking your clothes off, call me.  Otherwise, I'll be back at
the end of your time with me, which by the way is about three
more hours, to let you go.  Have fun!" he said, chuckling, and
walked out.

    The first thing I did after he walked out was lean on
the chain, testing it's strength.  It was a light chain, and I
could tell it would break under my weight.  Good, I thought, I
won't hang myself if I fall over.  I didn't even occur to me at
the time that this was probably quite intentional on Daniel's
part.  I also tested the cuffs on my wrists and ankles --- there
was no way I could break the chains, but I figured I could, if I
had wanted to, get out of the cuffs.

    Well, it seemed I was going to be in this room for a
long time, alone, since I was most certainly not going to allow
this weird pervert to take my clothes off.  So I looked around.
Doing so gave me shivers --- where did this guy get this stuff?
The implements on the wall looked like something out of a
medieval torture chamber.  Like the living room, everything
appeared carefully arranged.  It was actually quite impressive,
if I forced myself not to think about *what* I was looking at.
Everything was within easy reach, and arranged by categories.
Somehow it all seemed to fit.  How careful he was about keeping
every- thing neat and clean...how scrupulous he was about not
doing anything I didn't want him too...how he had made sure I
was safe while he was out of the room.  It all showed a careful
attention to detail that even I was forced to admire.

    [I am reminded again about his attention to details, as
the paddling pauses again.  Every single inch of my skin burns
from some sort of stimulation.  He had left no part of me
untouched, no piece of my body escaped this desire.  I had
already told him I wanted it.  Now all I can do is wait till is
pleases him to take me.  Oh God, I hope it's soon!  I am still
amazed that it's me thinking these things.  As the paddling
resumes, I think back to my transition from disgust to desire...]

    I have no idea how long I spent on my knees in that
room.  I know I was very bored, and my knees were starting to
ache.  I thought to myself that I could very easily get out of
this mess, just get up and walk out.  But I didn't!  Why am I
doing this?  I spent a lot of time trying to answer that
question.  Initially my answer was "money", but for some reason
that didn't carry the conviction it had from the start.  And
finally it occurred to me --- I was getting turned on, hanging
here from my neck, hogtied.  I was getting turned on being
ordered around by this strange person, and even by the change
that had come over him when we had come into his territory.  I
was even turned on looking at these bizarre devices hanging
from the walls, even though they terrified me.  I found my eyes
continually being drawn to the mirror.

    The picture it presented was disturbing to me.  Surely
that girl in the mirror wasn't me!  She seemed so young, so
vulnerable. Her brow was slightly shiny with perspiration, and
her chest heaved a bit more quickly than it should have for
someone resting.  Her lips were slightly parted, and wet, from
continually being licked.  A nervous gesture?  I never even
noticed I did this!  I looked at her, and she looked at me, and
I realized she was flushed with arousal.  And looking at her was
arousing to me...  How could this weird shit arouse me?  Only
perverts like this stuff, I told myself.  Daniel was quite
clearly a pervert and yet I found myself thinking about him,
sitting out there in the livingroom, completely ignoring me, and
wishing he would come back in.  Men never ignore me!  And here I
was --- horny!  Even so, I knew I wouldn't have sex with this
guy.  Just because some perversion turns me on doesn't mean I
have to do it.  And not with *him*, of all people.  But it
didn't seem like it would do too much harm to allow him to take
my clothes off.  I mean, it wouldn't be like it was the first
time I had been seen naked by a man.  And it would mean the end
of this damnable boredom and frustration [ha! right!] and maybe
I could get Daniel to explain to me how some of those
fascinating, repulsive, unfathomable devices were used.  And to
be naked, bound like this...oh, no, I couldn't think about it.
So I called for him, "You can take my clothes off if you want."

    I waited, but I heard no footsteps approaching.  Oh no,
he's going to keep me like this for the rest of my four hours!
How could any guy turn down an offer like that?  Most men would
come running.  What was it about this Daniel that he was so
indifferent?  Then I remembered.  "Master!  Take my clothes
off. Please!"  I added that last, hoping it would sound
appropriately submissive, so that he would come in here.  It
must have worked, for almost immediately the door opened, and
Daniel walked in.  He looked so much taller than when he had
left, and much stronger. My mind was playing tricks on me.  Oh
well, I never had been able to deal with isolation well.
Without a word, he removed the chain between my wrists and
ankles, and jerked on the leash to indicate I should stand up.

    He swiftly, and somewhat roughly, pulled down my skirt
and panties, together.  As I lifted my feet to let him lift
away the clothing, he also slid off my sandals.  Then he
unclipped the leash, lifted my tank-top over the top of my head,
tossed it with the other clothes, and replaced the leash.

    He pushed me back down into the kneeling position I had
just left, and stood back and looked at me.  He wasn't even
smiling. He was inspecting me like I was some piece of art that
needed critiquing.  Oh, this wasn't how it should have been.
This careful inspection made me feel much more naked than just
nudity alone would have!  I felt the flush return to my face,
and I couldn't even look at him.  I lowered my eyes to the
floor, and wondered whatever had inspired me to let him take my
clothes off.

    He acted as if it was *him*, doing *me* a favor.  He
walked slowly around me, looking at me, and I never moved an
inch.  I didn't even look at him, I was so embarrassed.  When at
last he had completed his inspection, he said "Hmmm.  Very nice.
Quite nice indeed."

    I felt a flood of relief, and my shame vanished.  Then I
felt shock at myself --- why should this strange man's approval
mean anything at all to me?  I *knew* I looked good, and even if
Daniel didn't think so, hundreds of other guys did!  But
kneeling there, stark naked, under Daniel's critical eye, I
suddenly felt more acutely aware of my own body, and it's
attractiveness, than all the stares, whistles and outright
compliments I had received before had ever made me feel.

    I looked up at him and smiled, and he returned my smile.
Once again, I was surprised at the effect this had on me.
Never before had I been concerned with what anyone thought of
me.  But his approval, and his apparent pleasure with me, sent
surprising waves of pleasure through me.  I felt an inexplicable
urge to wrap my arms around Daniel's knees, in front of me, and
stopped myself, shocked!  What was happening to me?  I was
having these unfathomable urges which went totally against my
nature.  And yet something about where I was felt so...right.
It was as if I belonged here, had always belonged on my knees in
front of this strange man, this Daniel, this...Master.  My whole
mind rebelled against the word.  And yet, each time I said it,
it sounded a little less strange.

    "Master," I said quietly, more to try it out than to get
Daniel's attention.  The word caught a little in my throat, but
not nearly as much as it had the first time.

    "Speak," Daniel replied to my stumbling call.

    "I...I feel...strange.  I'm not sure what is happening.
What's happening, what are you doing to me?"  I looked at him,
suddenly feeling that he had the solution to the unfamiliar
turmoil within me.

    Daniel knelt down in front on me, and grasped my chin
firmly in his hand.  Holding my face directly in front of me, he
looked at me, looked into my eyes, for a long time.  He wasn't
smiling, nor was he frowning; I couldn't read his expression at
all.  But I stared back into his eyes, and it felt like I was
falling into them.  I had the oddest urge to drop my eyes, but I
didn't. Instead, I found that every moment that our eyes were
locked, my internal conflict lessened.  Yes, yes...this was
right...Daniel was right...everything was okay, and as it should
be.

    Then he stood up, and I felt like I was being released
from some great weight.  I started to slump down to the floor,
exhausted, but the collar and leash wouldn't let me, so I
quickly sat up with my back straight, to ease the pressure.  I
didn't look back up at him, but I felt that he was looking down
at me, watching me.

    He reached down, and stroked my hair gently.  I pulled
back from his touch, instinctively, a retort already starting to
form in my mind.  But it never reached my lips.  Even as I shied
away from his touch, I wanted it.  I leaned into his hand, my
forehead resting on his palm, his thumb rubbing my hair.  My
heart and mind were racing.  I wasn't sure what I wanted, how
far I wanted to let these new sensations take me.  I knew the
best thing I could do was to leave, to just stand up, take the
collar off, get dressed and walk out --- to forget that this
evening had ever happened.  But I didn't *want* to do that.  I
wanted to stay and see what would happen and...and I wanted him
to touch me.

    That particular touch didn't last long, though.  Soon
Daniel withdrew his hand, and his manner returned to it's
previous firmness, mixed with humor.  He unhooked the leash from
the bar above my head, and indicated that I was to stand.  I
did, and the relief in stretching my legs again washed through
me, bringing back that weak feeling, and I thought I was going
to collapse. But then Daniel was there, in front of me, with his
strong arms around me, supporting me.  Without even thinking
about it, I leaned against him, giving myself to his arms.  Then
I realized what I was doing, and pulled back, staring at him.
He just looked at me, a slight smile on his lips, and I got the
feeling he was waiting, that he knew already everything that was
going to happen, all my thoughts and confusion.  I wanted to
throw myself back into his arms, but that wasn't right; I
couldn't draw comfort from the very person who was bringing
this turmoil to me.

    But I had no more time to ponder my confusion.  He
pulled me farther into the room, over to a piece of furniture
that look basically like a padded saw-horse.  He turned me to
face him and, still smiling that small, knowing, and somewhat
ironic smile, he said "You took an awfully long time making up
your mind about taking your clothes."  He looked at me
expectantly, and I dropped my eyes again.  I couldn't tell if he
was really upset at me, or if he was just teasing me.  And why
should I care?  But I did!  I didn't want him to be angry with
me, for then he might not touch me again.  I longed for his
touch!  "You are going to have to learn to think more quickly."
His words confused me.  "Going to have to learn"...?  But his
tone was clear, the same tone my father used to use to say
"You've done something wrong.  I'm not upset but for your own
good you must be taught a lesson."

    I found myself relieved that he was not upset, but at
the same time ashamed of myself for doing "something wrong".  A
conditioned reflex from my childhood, to my father's tone?
Perhaps, but nevertheless I felt I deserved a lesson.  But the
thought that Daniel was going to give it to me scared me.

    He turned me so that I was facing the sawhorse, and
place a hand on my back, gently pushing me so that I was bent
over the horse, my belly resting on the padded bar, my breasts
and arms hanging down in front of it.  My heart was pounding,
and I could feel my sweat making the smooth surface of the horse
sticky.  It was clear where this was leading; I should have gone
bolting for the door.  But it seemed appropriate and necessary.
I didn't even seriously consider leaving.  I just stood there,
naked, bent and vulnerable, waiting for the inevitable.

    And it came --- a light, stinging slap to my ass.  It
didn't hurt, but it startled me, even though I had been
expecting it. The second followed quickly, and then the third.
The slaps were still light, but I could feel my cheeks reddening
slightly, and I felt quite warm all over.  As the slaps
continued, I marveled at what was happening.  I was letting
Daniel spank me!  No, I corrected myself, I was letting my
Master spank me.  And finally the word felt totally right.
"Master," I whispered, too low for him to hear.  But I didn't
feel that I was "letting" him spank me. Rather, I had an odd
feeling that he was in his right, in this spanking, and that I
was receiving a deserved punishment.  I wanted to be touched,
and even this touch was better than none. In fact, I discovered
that the growing heat on my backside was adding to my arousal,
making me squirm on the horse.  I was startled out of this
self-contemplation by another smack on my ass, much harder than
the previous ones.  I winced and grasped the legs of the
sawhorse.  I felt sure that all I had to do was say "Stop", and
Daniel (Master!) would stop immediately.  But I found that I
didn't want him to stop.  The spanking hurt, but somehow, at the
same time it felt good.  It felt right!  I waited with a
combination of desire and apprehension for the next stinging
slap.  It came, and I gasped and actually raised my ass toward
his hand in preparation for the next one.  And the next one
came, and the next and the next.  And as my bottom got hotter
and sorer, I got hornier and hornier, marveling at the
incongruous complement of pain and pleasure.

    [I laugh at myself under my breath.  I had thought those
little smacks were so hard and so wonderful, I had been so easy
to turn on!  I wonder if Daniel expected it to be so easy.  He
certainly seems to be working hard now, I think, and I feel
another crack of the paddle.  But it's stopping!  Is this
another pause, a tease, or is he actually going to take me now?
Oh yes, yes, he's unhooking my wrists.  A moan of anticipation
escapes my lips, and in the moment before he lowers me to the
floor, my mind flashes back to getting into the position I was
now so relieved to be leaving...]

    I don't know how long the spanking lasted.  It can't
have been very long but in my mind it was an excruciatingly
ecstatic forever.  But eventually the pain started reaching
out, past the pleasure.  But just as I felt the excitement start
to slip, he stopped.  How did he know?  I had had just enough to
get me trembling with excitement, and no more.

    I rested on the horse, breathing heavily, feeling the
sweat between me and the slick surface I was lying on.  I was
tired, but somehow I felt refreshed.  I felt no more shame at my
failure (I had long ago stopped thinking about exactly what it
was I was being punished for, and only that I deserved this,
that he was purging my guilt.)  I hoped my Master was pleased
with me, and I was ready to do anything he wanted.  Almost.
Even as I thought that, the incredible heat of the moment faded,
and I again started asking myself what in the world I was
doing here.  Although I still felt arousal and desire coursing
through me, I swore to myself I would not succumb to Daniel's
desire.  Getting a spanking may make me as horny as I've ever
been, but I certainly didn't have to admit that to *him*!  I
stubbornly swore to myself that, no matter how turned on he got
me, I wasn't going to let him fuck me.

    He allowed me few moments to recover, and then he tugged
on my collar to indicated I should stand up, and walked me back
over to the pole set-up I had been attached to when we first
came into the room.  He moved me so that I was standing under
the top pole, and again lifted my chin so that I was looking at
his face.  His manner had changed.  He still seem strangely
confident of himself.  But now, mixed with the ever-present
humour in his smile, was a bit of smugness.  His smile suggested
that he knew that he had already won, and all he had to do was
wait.  Rebelliously, I reaffirmed my vow to prove him wrong.

    He stroked my cheek lightly, and then took my wrists in
his hands.  He clipped the straps around my wrists together, and
then attached both wrist restraints to a hook on the bar above
us. The bar was high enough that I had to stretch my arms to be
able to keep my feet on the floor.  He stepped back, watching
me, with the same satisfied, confident smile on his lips.  The
mirror was still where it had been when I was kneeling on the
same spot, and I could see myself clearly.  The girl in the
mirror was quite a different sight than she had been previously.
Her short hair was damp with sweat, and the slight flush on her
face had become a full body flush.  She was trembling, and her
breathing was so heavy it was almost panting.  The biggest
change though, was an almost indefinable change in her
expression.  It seemed that some of the stubbornness, the
willfulness, the arrogance, had gone out of it, to be replaced
with...something I could not name.

    The sight of my trembling nakedness made me realize how
vulnerable I was.  It also renewed my excitement almost
unbearably.  I heard my Master say from somewhere to my left
"Pretty girl.  You are so excited, and we haven't even begun
yet."  His words sent a noticeable shiver through me, and I
strained forward against my bonds, pleading silently to be
touched again.  I wondered how long I could keep my stubborn
vow.  I even wondered why I had made it...

    I was still staring at my reflection when I felt a sharp
sting on my back.  In the mirror, I looked behind me, and Master
was there, with a nasty-looking whip in his hands.  It appeared
to be a thick handle with a number of leather straps hanging off
it.  I had seen it on the wall earlier.  Before I could recall
what I had thought of it at the time, I saw him swing again.  I
watched in the mirror, an the whip disappeared behind me a split
second before I felt it crack down again on my back.  The pain
was much sharper than that of the spanking, much different.
This pain left heat, too, but traveled all through my body, each
stroke bringing me higher and higher...

    Finally, my Master lays me down on the floor.  Somehow,
in my own delirium, I missed him taking his clothes off.  Now I
feel his body heavy on top of me, our bodies both slick.  I look
up at him, trying to tell him with my eyes that I surrender to
him totally.  Then I close my eyes and gasp as he enters me in
one smooth, quick thrust.  My gasps turn to groans, and my
groans to screams, as the pleasure mounts into an orgasm that
rocks my soul.  And he keeps thrusting and I lose myself in
ecstasy...

    Finally, it is all over.  My exhaustion is mixed with a
sense of satisfaction that goes deeper than just orgasm.  He has
taken me, and I am his.  I feel no more confusion, no more
turmoil, just a profound feeling of fulfillment, of rightness.
"Master," I whisper into his neck as he strokes my hair.  He
nods, and I know he understands...