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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: Title story: "A short scene" Author: Walter Madsen 92896540
From: TheXfan <ryzij@poczta.fm>
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Date: Wed, 06 Dec 2006 08:26:01 +0000
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A short scene
The room is still, and dark, except for the spotlight focused on his body. Sweat
gleams from the smooth curves of his arms, lifted above his head it sparkles on
the hair curling from his chest shimmering with the movement of his breath.
Rivulets form sweat rolls across the tight muscles of his stomach, down into the
tight pelt of his crotch.
Walking around him, I see that the sweat is also running down his back. It
catches momentarily on the sparse hair across his shoulder blades, then runs
swiftly down the rigid expanse of flesh to his buttocks to disappear into the
crack of his ass.
I continue walking around him. He is motionless the leather straps around his
wrists hold him erect, while the shackles hold his ankles in place on the
floor. His head is still, too, though his eyes follow me as I walk, a shadow
barely visible with the light bright in his face. His eyes, wide with
expectation - and fear.
He is mine.
In my hand I hold a whip. It isn't overly long, just over a foot I like to
maintain tight control over where the lashes land. Without raising it, I can
feel it pull against my hand, its smooth suppleness causing it to sway with my
stride. I can feel the edges of the braided leather against my palm, the
occasional brush as it gently touches my leg.
Lifting my arm, I allow the loose thongs to brush across his chest. He inhales
sharply, seeing it clearly for the first time. It makes a soft hiss against his
chest hair.
I lower my arm and continue to walk.
Three hours ago, he and I were in a bar a few miles from here. I was basically
ignoring him, sipping on my whiskey he'd been circling me for an hour while
sucking on a beer. Getting his courage up.
Eventually he approached and sat down, starting to talk like they always do. I
didn't look at him it was too early. He had the usual questions: Do I wear
leather chaps because I ride a bike? What were all of the keys for? Why did I
have a leather thong wrapped around my wrist?
I gave him the usual answers: I wear chaps because I like the feel of
leather. The keys are there because I have a lot of locks. The thong is there
in case I need it. He knew I was feeding him a line of shit, but he was
willing to play along.
Eventually, he worked up his courage, asked me about my sexual preferences.
Asked me why I enjoy controlling men, why I enjoy putting them through their
paces. Asked me to show him what it was liked.
I told him what he was asking I don't take my prey unawares. I told him that if
he submitted to me, that I don't play games told him I would own him, body and
soul, to do with as I please until I decided otherwise. He agreed.
That was three hours ago.
I continue to walk around him, trailing the whip across his naked skin. I bring
it under his armpit, over his shoulder blade, down his spine to his ass. I
pause, pushing the tip of the whip deep into the hairy crack, rubbing it across
his hole. He makes a soft sound, spreading his legs a little wider and arching
his back. I remove the whip.
The tips whistle a little, a crackling hiss, as the whip arches through the air
to strike the small of his back. The touch so far has been almost gentle he
wasn't expecting force so soon. He jumps and squeaks, and I smile. That was
just a touch, barely a beginning my whip will whistle and sing many more times
tonight, across his back, his thighs, his chest anywhere whim prompts me to
strike. Before the evening is through, the taut young body before me will be
covered with red stripes, tears running down his face to mix with the sweat on
his chest, begging me to release him, to let him serve me in any way that
pleases me. By the time I release him, he will be eager to take my cock in his
mouth, his ass feverishly eager to do anything to stop my whip. The sight of my
whip will compel instant obedience for a few days within a few days more, he
will be begging to be whipped again. I know these things, because I've done
this before.
Still smiling, I raise the whip again.
End
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