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CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU'VE WON!!!
Six exclamation marks in all and all capital letters, Grant was a little surprised that this message had gotten past his spam filter. He opened it, curious to see which foreign lottery he had supposedly won this time before deleting the message and could have fainted when he saw the picture that was attached. "Toni?"
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Grant had never met Toni before. At some point in his quest for more porn he had become addicted to images of BDSM. It wasn't too long before he did a web search for BDSM in his home city and Toni's site had been one of the first he'd bookmarked. Now there she was, hogtied; her naked breasts squashed into the floor. Her wide eyes stared at the camera with a mix of emotions. Was she afraid because she didn't know what was going to happen to her next? Was she eagerly awaiting whatever was about to happen to her next? The expression was her trademark and it made Grant want her even more.
He looked at her pictures. He read her blog. He e-mailed her some, but she never responded (she openly admitted that she only had time to respond to a few of her e-mails a day but claimed that she read all of them). Then, a few weeks ago, she had posted a contest: describe your fantasy and you could win a weekend acting it out with her. Long shot - yes, but Grant had to try for it. He reread her blog entries for the past year to try and sort out what activities she liked the most; this was hard considering some of the tortures she wrote about being put through and the way she seemed to enjoy them all. He searched through other BDSM sites for things that Toni hadn't talked about, but might be the next step in one of her scenes. He hadn't written any stories since grade school, but managed to commit to writing some situation involving the two of them and... and activities which he couldn't remember. His scenario was mostly ideas stolen from other sites and he had spent so much time browsing different sites since he had submitted his entry that he couldn't remember what he had said.
But there she was. This time, her eyes said that she loved his ideas and couldn't wait for him to play them out on her repeatedly in real life. The text, when he finally got around to reading it, said that while his writing style left much to be desired his ideas were intriguing and she couldn't wait to live out his fantasy. It also mentioned that she had printed out his entry (YES! he thought) and asked him to confirm that he was over 18 years old and that he wanted to accept his prize. Yes and hell yes, he thought. He sent a brief reply confirming his age and that he wanted to accept his prize then went into the bathroom to relieve himself with a ménage d'un.
Later that day he got a picture of her tied to the refrigerator. Her bra had been pulled down with ice cubes filling the cups. Her breasts were hard and pointed and turning blue from the cold. She did not have her trademark facial expression, but the look on her face spoke of great enjoyment despite the physical hardship she was enduring. The note simply asked what weekend would work for him. He considered his future schedule and sent back a note he would be free two weekends from now before unzipping his pants and going back to look at her picture.
"I'm looking forward to it. Your prize officially begins at 6 PM Friday, but feel free to come early if you want me to show you around. Most of what's needed is here so you'll just need whatever personal items you want to bring." The reply came shortly after he sent his perspective date to her and included a picture of her tied in X-formation between two trees with a hood over her head. Her address was also included.
Grant had searched her web site for an address shortly after bookmarking it, but there was none listed. Now he looked it up on a map, she lived in a wealthier suburb. He marked the date on his calendar and wrote her a brief note saying he was looking forward to seeing her. In truth, he was hoping to keep the dialogue going so that she would keep sending him pictures, but there was no reply. Two days later he stopped looking at the pictures she had sent and tried to put the contest out of his mind realizing that he would end up rubbing himself raw before he even met her in person.
It was hard not to think about Toni for the next couple of weeks, but Grant managed to limit his daydreams until his big day came. He only packed a few things thinking he wouldn't need much. To Grant it was all about sex and he would be undressed or mostly undressed as his slave did whatever he told her to. He was upset, therefore, when Toni answered the door. He hardly recognized her in a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.
"Grant?" She seemed genuinely pleased to see him as she ushered him in. "Come, come. Is everything all right?"
He realized he must have been frowning and faltered for an answer. Finally he decided on the truth. "I'm just not used to seeing you dressed."
"And you thought I answered the door naked?" A sly grin spread across her lips and she lowered her voice. "The neighbors don't have a clue." He almost laughed. Of course she was right. He followed her to the living room.
"Perhaps this is for the best. I want you to strip for me."
She froze for a second with a blank look on her face, then she started to swivel her hips toying with the button of her jeans. Slowly she opened the fly and lowered her pants to the ground stepping out of them. Grant got his second disappointment; she was wearing floral print panties. What had he been expecting? Some sort of leather thong? Her shirt was off and she was starting to unhook the matching bra that she wore.
"That's enough for now," he said before she could remove it. She was dressed more like the girl next door than someone who ran a bondage site, but he could work with that. She would be the popular girl at school who always looked down at him, but he somehow got the drop on her. She was his slave for the weekend and had to do whatever he told her to. He was fairly sure that he hadn't included any sort of back story to the fantasy he had sent her, so that is what he would pretend was happening. He wouldn't even have to ask to see her printout of his entry, she would be made to recite what he was to do to her as part of the fantasy. "I think I would like the grand tour before we get started."
She smiled and nodded obediently before gamboling off, turning to wave for him to follow. He was pretty sure this is what gamboling was; she looked spritely, skipping ahead in her underwear as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Of course you do. You came early like I told you to." She winked and flung a door open. "We'll probably be spending more time downstairs, so you might want to see down there first."
He looked down a flight of stairs leading to the basement. "Lead on," he said enjoying the view of her from behind. Her bare feet tread lightly on the stairs as she descended to a small room. The basement had been subdivided by plain wooden panels. "I was expecting something a little more..."
"Medieval!" Toni said as if reading his mind. "In there. The doctor's office is in there. Miscellaneous in there."
"Miscellaneous?"
"Non-themed equipment. Miscellaneous. The punishment room is there." She lowered her voice. "You don't want to go into the punishment room."
"I don't know. It sounds fun."
Toni shook her head seriously. What a great actress, Grant thought. "You really don't want to go in there. Suspension gear is in here," she said pointing to another door. "None of it's decorated very well, money tends to get spent on equipment more than background. It's all wired though."
"Wired?"
"Lights," she explained. "Oh, and that room," she said waving a hand at the last door. "But you expressed no interest in playing with electricity." She sat down in a stout wooden chair. "And this is just the prep area."
There were a few chairs like hers and Grant took a seat. He noticed some lockers against one wall and a cabinet beside them. "And that's where you keep the toys?"
"Some are in the cabinet. The lockers are just for clothes. Will you be getting undressed now?" Grant was caught off guard. He had come a long way from looking at pictures on-line. "You are nervous," she observed, "there is time for me to give you a back rub before we get started."
"Really?" he said. He almost blurted out, for free?
"I want everything to be perfect." She stood up and stepped behind his chair and started to massage his shoulders. Grant almost melted at her touch.
"That feels great. If my shirt's in the way you can take it off." She stopped and he was about to ask if anything was wrong but before he could her hands slid over his chest and started to unbutton his shirt. He considered this as she removed his shirt and resumed rubbing his shoulders. There had been the same pause when he told her to strip for him. She always referred to herself as a slave and talked about how much she enjoyed being treated like one; now she was acting as if a switch were thrown every time he said something that might be taken as an order. It was almost as if she couldn't help herself.
"Finish undressing me," he said in a more authoritative tone. She stopped and walked around to the front of the chair, kneeling so that she could untie his shoes. When he was barefoot he stood up so that she could remove his belt and lower his pants and underwear. He sat back down as he she folded his clothes and placed them in a locker. Then she started rubbing his neck. He felt an erection coming on and gripped the armrest hoping to stop it by willpower. When he did this he noticed there were eye-bolts screwed into the sides of the armrests. They were on the legs, seat and back of the chair as well.
"I'm sorry, am I in your seat?" he asked joking. He noticed the other chairs in the room were similarly equipped. "It's you who gets tied down."
"Not always."
This surprised him. "And who would you tie down?" he asked playing along.
"Anyone who told me to." She continued to work on his neck and shoulders. "Some masters enjoy being tied up. Slaves obey orders, they do not question them."
Grant thought about this. What would it be like to order his slave to tie him down and know that she was still in his power. Why should the master do all the work in bed?
"Toni, I want you to tie me up."
She paused once more as if the slave switch were being thrown once more and then walked to the cabinet.
"Spreader bar and arm binders," he called after her thinking quickly. He had seen her bound in them on her site so he knew she had them.
Without saying a word she returned and started to rub his shoulders again. Slowly she worked his arms behind him and started to strap the arm binder she had brought back onto him. He couldn't help it now; he had a full boner going. With his arms secured she went back to the cabinet and returned with a spreader bar. She knelt before him and locked his ankles in it. She was practically staring at his penis and didn't seem to notice it. His hips began to spasm as he tried to keep from wasting his erection and she stopped and looked at it, then stood up and went upstairs. She came back with a few squares of tissue and put them over the head; she gently stroked his cock, milking his erection into the tissue and returned upstairs when he had relieved himself. Almost out of breath, he could hear her flushing away the tissues before she returned to him.
"You are a very good slave," he told her. From all that he had read, slaves were supposed to like it when they were praised. She didn't show any change of emotion.
"Our masters would not like it if they found a mess when they got home."
"Yes, of course not." Grant suddenly realized what she had said. "What do you mean our masters?" He tried to stand, but the spreader bar made it hard to get up.
"Master and Mistress Hammond. We serve them for the weekend." Toni's voice was almost mechanical, but she seemed slightly confused at his not understanding. "You wrote your slave fantasy that you wished to serve with me."
"No, I wrote about how I wanted you to serve me as my slave." He threw his weight forward to aid him in standing, but his arms dragged against the back of the chair keeping him from getting up.
"You were to tell a fantasy of how you wanted to serve with me as a slave," Toni insisted. "The terms and conditions told about our masters. You checked the box that you had read the terms and conditions of the contest."
( link opens in new window )
"Nobody ever reads the terms and conditions when they check a box on-line. I'm not going to serve your masters!" Her blogs had occasionally mentioned a master or a mistress, but Grant had always assumed that she was referring to clients who had hired her services as a slave.
Toni stood blinking, it was like a fluorescent light trying to turn on. "This is not good," she finally said. "They will not be happy."
"Look, when they get here I'll just explain that there was a mistake-"
"No, they will not like this," Toni repeated as if she hadn't heard him. "This is not good."
"Everything will be all right." He made another effort and managed to get to his feet, but he was still off balance due to the spreader bar locked to his ankles. Seemingly without thought, she placed a hand on his shoulder and easily pushed him back down before returning to the storage cabinet.
"Listen, Toni, I'm sure if I explain everything they'll have no problem with it. It was a simple mistake."
"This was my birthday present. They were going to let me share my joy with someone else. You checked off the box. It was all explained in the rules. I'll be blamed for this. You can't tell them."
"They can't do this to me."
"You checked the box. You said agreed to all that they are going to do to us. They will not like it if you tell them no." Grant had seen her wearing many different gags, but a ball gag was always his favorite. That is probably why he didn't recognize the panel gag she carried until the rubber bit was pushed into his mouth. The leather panel pressed against his cheeks as she tightened the buckle behind his head further muffling his protests. "You mustn't tell them no. They will not like it."
She went around the prep area nervously straightening things out that really didn't need to be straightened out, occasionally pushing him back down when he tried to stand. Time seemed to drag on to both of them for different reasons before they heard footsteps upstairs. Grant began to struggle more feverishly against his bonds and the girl stepped behind him and started rubbing his shoulders again.
"Relax, you don't want to make them angry."
An eternity later a middle aged couple came down the basement stairs. She was not the tall exotic beauty in leather corset and thigh-high boots that he usually looked for on the internet. In her younger days he might have fallen for her but now she looked more like an aunt - an aunt wearing a latex military uniform and carrying a riding crop, but an aunt nonetheless. He was slightly pot-bellied and wore nothing but a pair of leather shorts and some sandals. Grant tried to give a muffled explanation that he didn't belong here, but was cut off by his mistress for the weekend.
"What is this?" Grant felt Toni's hands tense up on his back. "No gags will be used because the master will want to hear the slave scream." He realized that Mrs. Hammond was quoting his essay. He also realized that he had never used the pronouns 'I' and 'you' when he wrote out his fantasy, it was all 'the master' and 'the slave' nothing to indicate that he intended to be the master in his fantasy.
"I am sorry, mistress." Toni ran to kneel before her masters, bowing her head to look at the floor.
"Did I say you could speak?" There was fire in Mrs. Hammond's eyes. "Go!"
Without a word, Toni rose to her feet and went into the room she had indicated was the punishment room.
"And, you!" Mrs. Hammond turned her wrath on Grant.
"Take it easy, Joyce," her husband said. "The real screaming isn't going to start until later. He's obviously a little nervous with strangers." Joyce glared at him. "The punishments for disobedience were never clearly spelled out and he did get himself ready so well for us. Go see to Toni; it'll calm you down."
Mrs. Hammond accepted this and went to the room where Ton was waiting. Mr. Hammond got a length of chain from the cabinet and Grant was soon to learn that he wasn't the good guy in this scenario, he just wanted to calm his wife down so that he could get on with his fun. The chain split at the end like a Y. There was something on the ends of the forks, it wasn't until the man was trying to get one fixed to Grant's left nipple that the boy realized what it was.
"A lot of women mentioned these, but you were the first man. Sort of helped your entry to stand out above the others." He had a little difficulty getting it on since Grant's breast didn't protrude and he gave it an extra squeeze, making Grant's eyes water, to make sure it was on. The second one didn't go on any less painfully. "Come on now," he gave the chain a tug like a leash and Grant struggled to his feet as quickly as possible. He teetered a little but was forced to lurch forward as best the spreader bar would let him or he would have been jerked forward to fall onto his face. As he was led to the miscellaneous room they passed the punishment room. Mrs. Hammond was making good use of her riding crop and Toni was making yelping noises between sobs. It didn't sound half as sexy as Grant had imagined it while looking at pictures.
In the miscellaneous room he was led up to a sturdy table that was as high as his upper thigh. Mr. Hammond continued to pull out and down on his lead forcing Grant to bend forward to a 45-degree angle. The man leaned towards his captive and asked a question that made Grant even more scared than he already was. "Are you gay, boy?"
Grant shook his head no, adding muffled commentary.
"We weren't sure about that, so I wanted to make sure. A deal's a deal and I'd have gone through with it, but I'll go tell Joyce you'd rather she use a strap-on.
Grant nodded. It wasn't until he was alone that he realized what he had just been asked. He started to struggle again, but the pain to his nipples put a quick end to that. His breath was heavy as he tried to remember what else he had written. In time Toni was led in by the nipples. In addition to what had been written, Mr. Hammond had bound her arms and feet as Grant's were, apparently liking the impromptu job. True to his essay, she remained gagless. She was positioned next to him and made to bend over as he was and Grant could see she was crying. What else? Grant tried to think back to what he had written.
And then, he felt Mrs. Hammond's hands on his hips, an he wasn't going to be able to concentrate on much of anything until she finished with him.
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