The second part of a woman’s journey in the discovery of BDSM.
When I initially entered the intimidating mansion, the feeling of not belonging was profound. However, the value of my innocence in the space I am in, was the least expected turn of the evening. With every minute that passes after this realization I start to feel more confident, which leads my into a paradoxical state of being. Externally I try to maintain the role of lost Alice in Wonderland, while internally I feel unique and powerful. I start wonder what happened to the woman we previously rejected.
“What is there?”, I ask, while I point at the door through which she exited the room. “Let’s go find out,” my mentor of the evening says with enthusiasm and places his hand on my lower back to gently push me through the doorway into a small room. The room seems to act as a middle room and is so small that the one candle suffices to light up the whole space. A black curtain hinders me to see what is behind and I continue towards it, but he stops me. “Close your eyes”, he says gently. Without hesitation my eyelids shut. He places his hand over them, preventing any movement and let’s his actual lips gently touch mine. They are incredibly soft and his face is clean-shaved. My eyelids are freed and it feels like I was in the darkness for minutes, before I see the familiar shape of his mask again. “Sorry, I really needed to do that. You have been the highlight of my evening”, he says humbled. When I hear his words, tingles rush through my body and unite at my heart, making it beat slightly faster than before. All of the sudden the curtain is moved to the side and the woman with the evil mask emerges. She is not alone. In her hand a leash attached to a collar, worn by a naked man crawling on his hands and knees. He starts barking at us and immediately she pulls hard on the leash, transforming the barking sounds in those of choking. “I can’t deal with this bastard any more”, she shouts and pushes the leash into my hand.
“He has been a really bad boy this one. Give it to him”, the woman on top of him demands me.
Before I realize what has happened, the man rushes back behind the curtain and pulls me with him. We are standing in the middle of what looks like a medieval torture chamber and my eyes are wide open again. The man looks at me with puppy eyes and pants heavily with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Weirdly enough I get the feeling he actually is a dog and pet him on his head. Just when my guide has joined us, the dog-man starts pulling me further into the room and I decide to take control and pull so hard, he falls on the ground and starts yelping. “Don’t worry. You are doing exactly what turns him on”, my guide reassures me and points to a sign on the wall. ‘Safe word: pineapples’, it reads. “As long as you don’t hear pineapples, you are save”, he whispers.
Next to us a man is lying down on a table, while two women in short leather dresses slowly let hot candle wax drip onto his torso. He tries to move, but as soon as he does one of the women climbs on top of him, smacks him hard on his face and continues with the wax. The other woman sees me watching and walks over to me to hand me her black candle. “You look like you could release some tension”, she says and takes the leash out of my hand. The dog-man seems delighted to get yet another owner and wiggles his ass in her direction. Moments later her long heel has vanished into his ass hole and I pretend to be frozen again, knowing it will turn my fully masked companion on. “Go on”, he says and with tiny steps I walk towards the table. “He has been a really bad boy this one. Give it to him”, the woman on top of him demands me. Large parts of his body are already covered in dried up black wax and I search for a free spot. I aim and tilt the candle to slowly let the wax fall down. Immediately, I look at his face and examine his reaction. He clenches his teeth onto each other and groans deeply. I repeat the process until there is no fluid wax left to torture him with. My heart is pounding and I cannot escape the fact that I am aroused by his pain. “Can you handle pain yourself?”, my companion asked me hopefully.
I immediately want to walk towards the chair, but she holds me back and latches her hands onto my underwear to tear it apart.
“What do you have in mind?”, I ask innocently. Without saying anything he looks in the direction of the door and I do not have to pretend to be shocked. There she is again, her evil mask searching for her next victim. When she sees me, I understand she has already made up her mind and there is no escaping this time. “Remember, pineapples”, my guide reminds me while she purposefully walks towards us and grabs a leather whip from a table on her way. “Why are you still dressed?”, she asks enraged followed by a loud crack of the whip on the floor. I get filled with a delightful sensation of fear and move the straps of my dress down from my shoulders. Gravity quickly pulls my graduation dress down to the floor and leaves me standing in my lace underwear. She demands to sit down on what looks like a medieval gynecological examination chair. I immediately want to walk towards the chair, but she holds me back and latches her hands onto my underwear to tear it apart. When I place my body on the chair I feel vulnerable with images of colored pineapples floating in my head. She moves in between my legs and bends forward to my face. “I have the feeling you are too tight down there. I will expand you”, she whispers in my ear and lets one finger slide into me.
Moments later her four thin fingers are moving inside of me and my guide is standing next to us pleasuring himself. He does not look down, but keeps his eyes focus on my face. She removes her fingers and smells them, before she pours a thick golden lubricant slowly all over her small hand. With ease she lets her four fingers re-enter, forms a beak with her hand and goes in further than before until there is a new found resistance. She turns her hand in circles and pushes slightly harder with each new rotation. The pain is pleasure. I want to feel more of it and try to relax to signal I am ready. She pushes slow, but hard and suddenly her whole hand is surrounded by my warm flesh and I feel pressure everywhere. With her fingers she starts squeezing my cervix and I scream, while all the tension of the evening is released and now pulsates around her hand. I look up into my guides eyes, before they turn to the back of his head and his eye lids close. She pulls out her hand and with it the last of my innocence. I will never be the same again.