The wooden door is entirely shut, and we both start walking around the room. Quietly observing all the objects it holds, taking everything in with all our senses. The smell of the room is peculiar and gives me the impression I have indeed been transported five hundred years into the past. We both look like we don’t belong here, as our outfits are in stark contrast with the roughness of the objects and the interior of the room.
Slowly I walk towards a table and run my hand over the sanded surface. Even from the touch, I can sense the wood is dense and heavy. On the table lie a variety of equipment, some more familiar than others. Wooden paddles, black leather whips in various sizes, gag balls, shackles, rope – loads of rope. For a moment I take everything in and have to swallow loudly.
My confidence seems to be taking a back seat, and feel there is in fact still innocence left inside of me. My companion is inspecting the X-frame in the middle of the room, planning the logistics of getting a person on there. His demeanour gives the impression he has sufficient experience. It has from the very first moment we met.
I don’t even know his name, but there is a familiar sense of trust present. In essence, he is the only one that knows this side of me. He has played a part in its creation. “Do you have a name?” I ask him calmly. “Obviously,” he answers after a short interval. “But I am not going to give you my real name. You can call me… Brad.”
“I do very much enjoy pain. A lot of it. And I am ready to feel you inflicting it on me”.
A feeling of disappointment shortly enters my mind, as an immature part of me believes by now I somehow have earned the right to know his real name but immediately understand that this is a different world, in which we ultimately are different people. I certainly feel different. “Delphine.” Brad tilts his head slightly sideways. “It suits you,” he asserts while leaning his body nonchalantly against the wooden table on the opposite side of the room.
At that moment the power has shifted completely into balance, and we stare at each other for a while. Getting to know each other’s energy. “So, let’s begin with the basics and let’s make it easy. When I say ‘yellow’, it means you should slow down. When I say ‘red’, you need to stop immediately. However, you will rarely hear me say that,” he explains practically. “I do very much enjoy pain. A lot of it. And I am ready to feel you inflicting it on me. Only leave my mouth free please.”
My mind stays blank, overwhelmed with the infinite possibilities this leaves me with, and it probably shows on my face. “Okay, let’s stick to spanking for now, and you can make your rules. Tell me what I can and can’t do.” Immediately I regain my confidence and get flashbacks of the spanking course we did during my sister’s bachelorette party.
Who would have thought it would come in handy so soon? “Oh, and of course, my mask stays on at all times. Without exceptions!” he urges while putting his hand over the mouth of his mask as if to protect it. Patiently I take in all the information he has given me and remember the way he fucked me on the dance floor earlier this evening. I decide he has spoken enough and I connect with the dominant part of myself. Slowly I feel myself becoming Delphine.
“Okay, first rule: From now on you do not speak anymore unless you are spoken to. You have been talking an awful lot tonight.” I release the words with power and confidence. With my hand, I hover over the different whips, as if to feel their energy. “Second rule: you have to be naked at all times,” I say and stop hovering. I grab the longest whip. Aggressively I slap it on the floor and break the silence around us.
“What on earth are you waiting for,” I yell. Hesitantly he starts taking off his shoes, almost unable to keep his balance in the process. While I closely supervise the process, I get more and more into my role. “What is my name?” I ask loudly and at a slow pace start moving to his side of the room. “Delphine, your name is Delphine,” he utters while he is still trying to remove the last layers of his clothes. “Good, third and last rule: you touch me exactly when, where and how I tell you to.”
“Spread your legs,” I demand and let my nails run down his torso, increasing pressure the more I move downwards.
By now he has managed to take all of his clothes and only his face is covered by his mask. I have gotten used to the mask and its shapes and have started to experience it has his real face. Serious, static, and calm. During our time together I have been forced to focus solely on the clues in his body language. I become fully aware of this fact now that his body tells me a different story.
He seems more vulnerable than ever before, and I realise he has willingly given ultimate dominance to me. He is in submission. After my eyes have wandered over every part of his nude body, my index finger determinately and firmly points to the empty X-frame. With a humble posture and almost sluggish movements, he makes his way to the X-frame.
He leans against it and raises his arms, waiting for me to attach his wrist to the shackles hanging for the upper parts. The first thought that crosses my mind is that I am lucky I am only working with shackles since I have no clue how to tie ropes. Yet.
My body must have run out of endorphins by now, as I am fueled by intense excitement when I let the shackles engulf his wrists. Now he has completely surrendered all the control to me, ready to be punished by Delphine. How on earth did I come up with this name, I wonder. “Spread your legs,” I demand and let my nails run down his torso, increasing pressure the more I move downwards.
My orders are being followed immediately, and within seconds his body is aligned with the X-shape of the frame. “Mmh, what shall we do with you now?” I mumble while I walk over to the table to pick my next punish device. Quickly my eyes fall on the nipple clamps. While testing their strength with nothing but air between them, I make my way back to my slave. “You know, my ass still hurts because you had to put your big cock inside of it. Over and over again. I think you should apologise,” I say and let the clamp shut with his nipple in between.
“I’m sorry”, he shrieks. “You are sorry for what exactly?” I ask aggressively and repeat the process with his other nipple. “I am sorry for fucking you in the ass,” he wines. “Not enough…” With one hand each I pull hard on the claps. He just clenches his teeth. “I want to know exactly what you are sorry for.” He angles his head back as to increase blood flow into his brain. “I am sorry for fucking you in the ass in front of all those people. I am sorry for hurting you. I am sorry for taking away your innocence.” he rapidly summarises.
I turn around and want to walk back to the table, but like a reflex, the whip loudly slams into his skin as soon as he wants to say something. “I did not fucking ask you anything,” I bawl, trying to hide the surprise of my near automatic reaction. The moment my initial shock fades away I hit him again, and again, and again. No safe words are being uttered, and I am really starting to enjoy myself.
To be continued…