Auction · Part 2

Auction · Part 2 (2/2)
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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…

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©–2001 | updated – 06.05.17

Auction · Part 2 (2/2)
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