By: Tara Crescent

“Yes Sir.”

“And what do you think? You’ve never been left the States before, right?”

“Yes Sir.” Another lie. I’d circled the globe more times than I cared to count in the last six years. “It’s more crowded than I’m used to.”

Karen laughed. “Aren’t you staying on Khao San Road? I stayed there for a couple of months when I first moved to Bangkok. The vendors still hawking pretty much every single thing in the world on the streets?”

On my way to Madame Lorraine, I’d had to weave my way through a street packed with ramshackle stalls, selling everything from souvenir t-shirts to digital camera memory cards. But I liked the insane bustle of Khao San. It reminded me that world over, everyone did what they could do to survive. Most of the time I felt like I was on the outside looking in. But the teeming humanity on Khao San Road reminded me that I wasn’t that different from everyone else. We all endured as best as we could. “I bought a t-shirt,” I told her. “My sister went to Bangkok, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.” I was proud of that bit of ad-libbing. It would remind Karen and William that my sister was dying of leukemia and I was putting myself on the slave block to raise money for her treatment.

We talked about safety. They both shook their heads when they saw how short my list of hard and soft limits were. They took the time to tell me what they were going to do with me. They would flog me to test my pain responses. I would take a dildo in my mouth, and my gag reflex would be assessed. They would touch my body, my nipples, pussy and wherever else they desired, and my reaction would be observed. And finally my ability to control my orgasms would be tested.

“Let’s get started.” William and Karen stood. I rose as well and followed them.


I’ve been told by Marc that I need to ask for permission before I climax. It has sent a small shiver of anxiety through me, but when I look at him, my desire overwhelms my fear. I agree to his condition and he buries his head between my legs.

His attack is skilled. No one has ever done this to me before and I fist my hands in the sheets as I surrender to the waves of pleasure that wrack my body. I’m getting close to my orgasm; I can feel it. I whimper, a mute sound of helpless desire. He looks up at the noise and he meets my gaze. “Do you want to come for me, baby?” he asks.

There’s pleading desperation in the look I give him. I’ve never felt this urgency in my body. This ache, this certainty that I will shatter if he doesn’t let me orgasm. “Please,” I beg, and he laughs gently. “Come for me, bright star,” he whispers, his mouth once again descending onto my flesh. Just like that, I fall apart on his command.


William and Karen assigned me safe words. Red to stop the scene immediately, until I gave them permission to continue again. Yellow to pause, to give them an indication that I was reaching my limits. Finally, green to indicate that I was enjoying what they were doing.

Karen looked at me intently. “If you are afraid, even for a minute and want to stop, I want you to use them,” she said. “Please don’t think that you will fail our evaluation if you use your safe words. That isn’t true.”

William nodded. “Today’s purpose, Jenny, is to determine only one thing. Anyone can submit, but not everyone experiences pleasure in submitting. Our goal is to determine if it will arouse you to bend to our will.”

Such a simple test. Yet allowing myself to feel arousal was going to be the tallest hurdle of them all.

William approached me with a collar in his hands. It was wide and made of black leather. There was a steel ring dangling from the front and a thick, heavy-looking buckle in the back. It looked intimidating. This was neither pretty nor delicate. This was a collar for masters who meant business. “This will help with your posture,” he explained. “It will keep your head erect.”

“Yes Sir,” I said meekly. Karen held my hair out of the way and I stayed still as the collar was buckled around my throat. My hair was quickly braided so it wouldn’t get in the way of what they were planning on doing with me.

I was led to a spot in the room and positioned under a large metal rod hanging parallel to the ceiling. “We are going to tie your hands up,” she told me, gesturing to the bar. Her voice was level and her calmness was reassuring.

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