Twenty Tones of Red (3 page)

The conversation
at the table came to an end and just when her exposed skin was beginning to cool and her knees were beginning to ache she heard her master make a few brief farewells to his companions and stand and give her chain a gentle tug. She stood and followed him to the doorway where he stopped in the space between two sets of curtains and then turned to put a hand assertively on her shoulder. They were alone for a moment. She could hear the distant chatter on the balcony and the constant thumping of dance music from inside the club but they had their own small pocket of privacy. Still keeping hold of her lead he stepped up and pressed himself close against her. His strong arms grabbed her waist and she felt him pushing against her bum, then his mouth was suddenly pressed close to her ear. “Are you enjoying yourself slave?”

“Yes sir,” Her voice was quiet and meek with a breathy girly quality to it that she must have added unconsciously.

His hands move up to cup her breasts and she found herself squirming. She had loved
the kneeling, bondage and whipping but it had all lacked one thing. She had not been held or pulled close to someone and the sensation of his body pressing hard against hers made her tingly all over. She wanted to be smothered by him, to be wrapped up in hard muscle then taken with a rough urgent passion.

H
e squeezed her tits, finding the limit where the pressure became painful then relaxing his grip. His face was back close to hers again, the sweet smell of fresh tobacco and beer faint on his breath. “That’s good. I have to say you’ve been a very well-behaved slave. I’ve been very proud of you.” The words made her feel warm inside. There was a pride in being a tough submissive and she knew she’d done it well. Every bow of the head, every obedient position had been well held and she’d taken her beatings without any complaint whilst at the same time gasping and wriggling in a way that made sure that it was entertaining to watch.

His hands found her
nipples then he gripped them between finger and thumb and started to squeeze. “But then that’s a shame really because there’s nothing to punish you for really.”

He was right. She knew the code. If she agreed with him he would probably back off and mi
ght even snap her out of role. But she didn’t want that. She was still hot and wet and eager and she wanted more, more, more. For a moment she was stumped then she had a simple but cunning idea. “Yes but slave would like permission to go and pee and slave begs master’s forgiveness and will accept any punishment if he will allow her just five minutes for a toilet break.”

His fingers slowly released the pressure on her nipples.
“I see.”

She shivered as he started to plant gentle soft kisses behind her ear and down the side o
f her neck. “So if I allow a short beak the slave will come back and do her best to make up?”

She nodded in an exaggerated way.
“Yes master.” In her mind she could see an innocent chamber maid standing in front of her lord and employer. It was ridiculous play-acting but it worked. The whole scene was about exaggeration and in the depths of night, surrounded by outrageously-dressed people and high on hash cake, wine and endorphins it all worked perfectly.

He unclipped her lead and folded the length of chain into the palm of his hand.
“Go on then. But be quick. Five minutes max.”

The lights were bright in the toilets and there was a noisy chatter from the long row of washbasins where a long line of women were touching up their makeup. As soon as she stepped through the door she changed her posture, straightening her back and lifting her head to move with her usual grace and confidence. In here she was a normal woman again. There was a cubicle free and because the big washroom had an attendant it was spotlessly clean and the range of complimentary perfumes kept it incredibly sweet smelling.

When she had peed she dabbed herself carefully, aware that soon there may be eyes inspecting every intimate crevice of her body. At the basin she relished the sensation of hot water and soa
p on her hands. The touch of warm moisture around her fingers seemed to be a sensual experience. The wine, the bondage and the beating and the kneeling had all combined to bring her whole skin to life. Even in the unflattering lights of the toilets she felt tingly and deeply sensual.

She put her hands under the soap and rubbed the foam between her fing
ers for a second time. She had slowed almost to a standstill, mesmerised by her own actions. But that was okay. She needed to take plenty of time because she needed to break the limit set by her master.

She succeeded and had clearly been much longer than five when she reappeared from the ladies with her arms behind her back and her head bowed. After he’d clipped her chain back onto her collar he stroked her forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes master. I’m fine m
aster. Sorry if I was so long. I was talking.” She smiled inwardly. It was a very clear message of disobedience and luckily he took the bait. With a firm tug on her lead he pulled her towards the main performance room. “Well. That was very naughty wasn’t it? You’d better come with me and I’ll find a way to remind you of your place.”

Walking quickly and with a clear sense of purpose he led her through the club
’s narrow corridors to the central entertainment area. Pumping music got louder and louder and then as they pushed their way inside they were surrounded by a noisy hum of chatter. Soon she could see the front of the long wooden stage and was surprised when he kept walking straight towards it. He moved her right up to the base of the long wooden platform then made her kneel. The stage was just about six inches above her head and there was something fairly acrobatic going on because she could both hear and feel the wooden boards flexing as the performers moved about.

“Hands behind your head.” She quickly obeyed. It was one of her favourite humiliating positions, the one that reminded her of the Victorian schoolgirls being punished in front of their classmates. She heard him delve in one of his pockets and then a coin was held up in f
ront of her face. “Wriggle forward until you can hold this with your nose.”

She did as she was told. She knew exactly the position he
intended and it was one of the extreme positions that they’d discussed and described but never tried. The surface of the small disc of metal was rough but warm from his body heat and with just some gentle pressure from the tip of her nose she was able to keep it in place.

Once she held it she was helpless. Any tiny movement would risk it slipping and falling and she knew there would be extreme punishmen
t for that. He had moved her right to the base of the stage for a reason. The whole room and anyone passing through were now witnesses to her punishment.

She felt his han
ds slip under her skirt and shivered. His hot palm moved slowly up the smooth nylon on the inside of her thighs. He moved inch by inch, higher and higher and she found the sensual anticipation quite mesmerising. There was no sound from the stage. The entertainment must have stopped and she realised that although they were in plain sight of the whole room his body was shielding her from view. He reached her stocking tops then there flesh touched flesh. His rough skin caressed the softness of her inner thigh and she shivered as electricity tingled around her groin.

She desperately wanted to wriggle and squirm under his t
ouch but she couldn’t move a millimetre. Her back was locked straight, her arms clasped behind her head and her face pressed so close to the wooden boards that everything had blurred. She could feel the coin squashed against the end of her nose and knew that if she shifted her weight even slightly she risked it falling. Knowing she was trapped in self bondage he moved his hand up until it brushed the very tips of her pubic hair and she felt her heart beating loud in her chest, wetness pooling inside her.

He mov
ed his head closer. “Keep that there till I get back or you get tied on the whipping horse again.” He shuffled just a fraction backwards. “If I have to beat you again then I’ll leave you there till this place closes. And that’s three hours from now.”

His menace was real. She knew
that he really would and that she couldn’t stop him unless she broke the scene by using the safe word. That wasn’t going to happen. She would hold her position and accept the punishment she’d so carefully manipulated. After a brief pause to let the message sink in he stood and took a couple of steps backwards. “I’m just going to get a drink and make a sign for you. Back in a min.” With that he was gone.

She waited completely immobile and frozen while people started moving around her. Voices came near and she heard snippets of idle chat. Most exciting were the observers. After just a few minutes a very well-to-do middle aged couple with cut glass upper class accents came up and stood studying her.

“Now that’s a very pretty and well-behaved slave.” She hea
rd the man say.

“Yes.” Th
e woman let out a short nervous giggle. “But she can’t be that well behaved if she’s being punished.”

“Hmm.” The man paused, perhaps taking a sip of wine
, then chose not to add any further comment.

The end of her nose sta
rted to itch then tension built in her shoulders from holding her hands up at the back of her head. She kept perfect posture though, the position was no worse than a beginner’s Pilates exercise and she was strong, she was showing the whole club how tough she was. The man’s voice changed tone slightly and she guessed he was talking to someone who’d just approached them. “Is she yours?”

“Yes.” Her heart leapt. If was Da
vid’s voice. It was her lover saying one of the sexiest things she’d ever heard. Yes she was his. She was owned. She was an object. A possession.

“Has she been bad?
” It was the woman. If Siobhan hadn’t been concentrating on her posture and holding the coin against the stage she would have laughed. The sort of person that should have been asking the vicar for more tea was probably standing in a leather mini skirt in a room full of semi naked bodies asking if a slave had been bad.

“Oh y
es.” David’s voice was close to her now. He touched her back and she felt a strip of tape being pressed across the thin material of her open blouse. She was now labelled and she had no way of knowing what her sign said. He lowered his hand and she felt a finger move up the seam of her stocking. “She’s been very bad.”

There was s
omething devilishly tantalising about the way he led his fingers in slow deliberate paths up her thighs and along the marks and welts on her buttocks. Each touch rekindled some of the fire of the original beating and she felt her heart pounding fast in her chest. The scene now had so many of the things that excited her. She was in one of the most humiliating punishment positions she could imagine, she was on public display and now she had the slow curious excitement of trying to guess what was written on the sign on her back.

Disappointment hit her as her lover took his hand away and stood.
“Well. She needs some punishment time now. We should leave her.” The older couple respectfully agreed and she found herself alone. The muscles all down her back were starting to strain but there was plenty to keep her in a dreamy sort of subspace. Time seemed to melt but the slow burning excitement kept smouldering in her belly and between her legs. Her nipples remained hard inside her thin blouse and she waited. She waited for her lover to return and her body stayed wet and ready for his touch.

              It was perhaps a little more than ten minutes later when she sensed movement near her and heard his voice again. “I hope you’re beginning to learn some better behaviour.” 

She whispered her answer as softly as possible, being careful to keep her neck still and the coin held firmly against the stage.
“Yes master.” There was a dull ache growing in her lower back and shoulders now from the strain of holding her body taught. As he knelt at her side gently stroking the inside of her thighs she became conflicted. The humiliation was intensely arousing but as the muscle tightness developed into pain part of her began to crave release.

As if reading her mind he reached forward and took hold of the edges of the coin.
“You can move backwards now. Slowly lower your head and roll it to loosen out the muscles.” With great relief she did exactly as she’d been told. A few gentle sweeps of the head and small circles of the waist and the built up tension drained from her body. She was just enjoying the temporary freedom of movement when he reached down and took hold of the chain that hung from her collar. “Now, on your hands and knees. Follow me.”

He led her through the
groups of people that were milling around in front of the stage and she followed as quickly as she could. After a short crawl she arrived at a second lower platform at the back of the room. When she mounted the steps she found herself crawling along a row of red velvet sofas. By glancing up at the figures on the comfortable divans and catching glances of slaves lying below them she guessed that it was a place for the dominants to relax while their submissives licked and worshipped their feet.

He
r master stopped and pushed her head down until her forehead was touching the floor. She heard him talking and by catching a few words and phrases worked out that he was negotiating a place on one of the couches. Her heart leaped when she realised that she was being negotiated as part of the deal. She heard the word ‘slave’ repeated a few times and then the phrase ‘foot worship’. While she waited with her head obediently and submissively pressed against the dusty wooden floorboards she felt her excitement rising again. There were another couple of males and a female involved in the conversation and she was certain that she was being offered to all of them. Crawling at the feet of strangers had always been a frequent fantasy of hers and now that it was going to happen she felt herself buzzing with anticipation.