By: Tara Crescent

Dylan had never been calm in the dungeon. His lust was always too close to the surface. When it took over, he was like a wild animal and I was his trapped prey. His trapped, terrified prey.

I extended my arms out mutely in front of me, keeping my eyes lowered. That was the behaviour that would be expected of me and I was happy to comply, happy to keep the anguish of my past shielded from their too-keen gazes.

Each of them took one of my hands in theirs, wrapping black nylon rope around my wrists in ornamental coils. I took a moment to admire the strange, surreal sensuality of what they were doing, though at the same time, I felt my pulse beat wildly at my wrists.

I was a butterfly trapped in a web of stunning beauty. Somehow that wasn’t reassuring. Calm down, I warned myself, before I grew too anxious. From somewhere deep inside of me, I had to find pleasure in this.

Marc. His voice at my ear telling me he was going to make me climax. His deep tone, promising shocking lust and arousal. His touch, causing each and every nerve ending in my body to explode in desire. I clutched at the memories as if they were a talisman that would keep me safe in this space.

“You like that, don’t you?” Karen’s voice spoke. She ran her hands over my nipples which had hardened in remembered appreciation of Marc’s touch from two years ago. Her fingers stroked the inside of my thighs and I heard the purr in her voice as she spoke. “She’s so wet, William. Her pussy is radiating heat.”

William laughed but it was a warm sound without any trace of mockery. “Do you like this, Jenny?”

“Yes Sir,” I answered. I did like it, but only if I could pretend that it was Marc examining me, not these two strangers, kind though they were. It was only the timbre of his voice that my body responded to.

My hands were pulled up and the ropes at my wrists were attached to the bar. “Now,” William ordered, “spread your legs. Wide.” My thighs whimpered in protest as I spread my legs in response to that command, but it was well within my capacity to bear. I was the product of many hours of combat training. I was in the best shape of my life.

“Good.” This was Karen. She knelt and buckled a cuff around my ankle, fastening it with a heavy chain to rings on the floor. William repeated the motion on the other side and they raised the bar holding my hands up until I was stretched tight.

I was wide open to anything they were going to do to me; I had no ability to stop it. It went against every hard-won survival instinct to allow them to bind me this way. I had to fight to control myself as they had tethered my hands; I shook with the effort of staying still as they locked my legs so I couldn’t move. Think of Marc, I said to myself fiercely. Find lust in this.

William walked in front of me, his hands running over my body. My eyes were lowered, but the posture collar kept my head erect. This is not Dylan, I reminded myself. Relax. These people are not going to hurt you.

Karen moved behind me, her delicate fingers tracing the curve of my spine, her small hands cupping the round cheeks of my butt. She kneaded them, alternately pushing them closed and pulling them apart. “So very aroused,” she muttered. “Have you ever had a woman, Jenny?”

No. “Once,” I lied instead.

William’s fingers tweaked both my nipples, stretching them away from my body. I bit my lip as pain spiked through me, but at the same time, Karen’s hands stroked my pussy lips, tugging at my labia till I whimpered.

I didn’t know what to do, except I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t know what to make of this sea of sensation that was sweeping in tidal waves over my body. My pussy dripped, my nipples throbbed with longing. My body ached with need in a way that it hadn’t done since that night in Paris two years ago.

“Jenny.” William had a suede flogger in his hands. I breathed a little easier. Dylan had whipped me often. Floggers, I could deal with. It was the single-tail whip I was terrified of. “This flogger will warm you up.” His voice was steady. “When I hit you, I want you to call out where you are on the pain scale, one through ten.”

“Yes Sir.” I sounded nervous.

“Keep your eyes open.” This was Karen. I complied instantly. In this room, tied up and immobilized, obeying came instinctively. I had learned that severe punishment would follow if I weren’t sufficiently well-behaved.

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