28
March 2017
Vickey, Alex
Alex wasn’t Vickey’s first lover, of course, but he was definitely her first love. Bold, cool, masterful. As a man, he dominated, and as a woman, she was subservient. That was what she needed, she liked it, she saw a truth and a sense in that.
In bed, he took and she gave. She was his. When his hand lay on her neck, tightening and lightly obstructing her breathing, when he entered her without asking, just pulling her skirt up in the middle of the kitchen, when he roughly, mercilessly fucked her in the mouth, in the ass, everywhere – in those moments she wanted to die from the joy overwhelming her. She wanted to submit to his wishes and whims. She was desperate to be possessed by him.
One time she came to him in a terrible mood. News had come from home that her parents were splitting up. True, every day as an adolescent she’d prayed that her parents, who were forever arguing, would split up – how she’d dreamt of that! But taking that step at sixty was a doubtful adventure. And now, of course, she was the medium in all those unpleasant conversations about divorce. What would you expect of an older generation that had never gotten used to the idea of turning to lawyers and psychiatrists. First her mother had called in tears, and then her father had called in hysterics. But Vickey didn’t have the strength to call off her date with Alex.
Alex immediately worked out her mood, taking her for a walk on Primrose Hill, feeding her with hot donuts and even taking her for a ride on a bicycle, seating her on the handlebars and kissing her tenderly from time to time on the top of the head. The latter had the desired effect, she started smiling and quickly forgot about the fact that her father had taken a lover younger than his daughter. They also spoke about Alex and her love for him.
She felt an incredible feeling of gratitude for the romance that he’d given her that day. She needed romance in order to feel that her relationship would be different, that they wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of her parents. Hope springs eternal, after all. She looked at Alex and said out loud what she’d never been able to say before:
“I want to belong to you tonight, the whole of me, with nothing left. Your will, your desires. I want to fulfill all of your fantasies. I want that more than anything before!”
“All of my fantasies?” asked Alex. “Even those we’ve never spoken about?”
Vickey nodded.
“Are you sure, my sweet?” Alex asked again. “I’m a little bit scared of shocking you.”
Vickey looked into his shameless amber eyes with confidence and answered him.
“I’m sure. I’m ready. I know it’s what I want. I want to experience everything you’ve experienced.”
“Alright then,” said Alex, musing. “I think I know what we could do.”
Alex phoned someone, and then in the evening he drove her out of town. Some friends of his were putting on a kinky party where the guests would take part in roleplay, dividing up into masters and slaves – a fairly typical BDSM theme. But for Vickey this was something new. The party took place in a small, secluded boutique hotel with big glass walls instead of windows offering an endless view of the silent forest. The hotel, located in the stockbroker belt to the south of London, had been entirely booked out for the event, all the rooms had been taken by the participants, and strangers were barred from entry.
Vickey and Alex arrived at about six in the evening and it was still light. They moved into a sumptuous luxury apartment with a terrace on the second floor of the building. Looking at the room, Vickey realized that the hotel was on a par with the five-star Claridge’s in the very heart of London, albeit somewhat smaller.
They took a shower and started getting ready for the coming evening. Vickey’s slave costume was very simple – a choker, a g-string and Louboutin high heels. Alex wore purple trousers of fine wool, leather boots and a cowboy-biker’s shirt. It all looked like a masquerade, a game.
There was a knock at the door. A bellboy – a young, tanned guy of about twenty, brought cards and asked that they write down their full names. Alex handed the bellboy a piece of paper with their bank details and the bellboy disappeared.
Vickey remembered everything about that evening, down to the tiniest of details.
“At any point you can change your mind, my dear,” Alex told her before they left their room. “The road back is empty if you’re heading into the city in the evening – we can be home in an hour or two,” he smiled.
Vickey nodded quickly. A thought flashed through her head: “But I promised to fulfill all your wishes.” What superseded her promise, however, was the temptation of seeing it all with her own eyes. She wanted to play this game, even if it was only to be once – a game that she’d only seen on the screen of her laptop. And now it was all literally within her reach.
At first, it was incredibly hard to go, semi-naked, into the room where all the other guests were. It was so scary, that she thought that she would wet herself, but there was something incredibly enticing about giving freedom to her body, her beautiful, young, sexual body. They could all look at her and be envious.
Standing for a few minutes at the entrance, getting used to her internal shaking, Vickey looked around the hotel’s main hall where the party had begun: five or six tables, a long bar with a smiling bartender, a small stage next to it. The electric lighting had been turned off, there were candelabras with wax candles standing or hanging everywhere. A pleasant semi-darkness. Ceremonial and mysterious.
Vickey noticed that many of the guests were watching her, delighted by her beauty. Alex, it seemed, also noticed their gazes, and he smiled with satisfaction. They chose a place at the bar and ordered champagne. “I wonder who pays for all this, and how?” she thought.
A grand piano could be heard playing in the room. All of the tables were occupied, but you couldn’t really see the guests. A dark-skinned man in a light-toned suit came up to the bar not far from Alex and Vickey, accompanied by a woman in an open brocade bodice and a lacework skirt, a slit revealing her very long legs.
Vickey had never seen such long, slender legs. On the floor next to these stunning legs, were two naked slave-men in light hip bonds. When the entire group had sat down, their new neighbors looked at Alex and Vickey.
The man in the suit had a skinny frame and neatly tonsured goatee. He nodded to Alex as if to an old friend. Then, with a long, shameless look he sized Vickey up from head to toe. Turning to the lady, he whispered something to her. The woman let out a ringing laugh, revealing a row of ideal teeth. She shook the man’s hand, which he was holding out to her, rewarding Alex with a well-disposed smile from afar.
“Do you know him?” asked Vickey, referring to the man with the beard.
“Yes, slightly. He’s a fairly well-known sex-master in this group,” Alex answered calmly, adding that “they tell legends about him, they say he knows the secrets of Ancient Chinese sex, and the Manchurian dynasty, according to Bertolucci, understood a thing or two about sex. They say he can fuck a woman for days on end and that he’s cured a lot of women of frigidity. But maybe that’s all talk, of course,” he smiled.
Vickey wanted to ask how Alex knew all this. How had they ended up at this hotel? Is he a regular at these parties? But she refrained from asking, instead inquiring who else he knew there.
Alex looked long and hard at the woman with the beautiful legs, thought about something for a while, and said “Yes, I know the Mistress next to him, Merciless Valeria. She’s one of the cruelest mistresses in this crowd. If you really like pain and humiliation, you won’t find a better tormenter.”
Vickey sensed that Alex’s answers were literally being drowned out by yet more questions bubbling up inside her. But now a host of about thirty years of age was coming out onto the stage, tall and statuesque, dressed in a grey tunic. The confidence with which he held himself on stage indicated that he was a hired actor. The evening had begun.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he declaimed in his powerful voice. “Thank you for having been kind enough to set aside your affairs in London and for having come to our home, bringing your slaves with you. According to the rules of this house, all of the slaves brought here are to be put up for auction. You, ladies and gentlemen, for a certain fee, can buy yourself a new male or female slave for the evening. You may also observe your former property at work, because at the stroke of midnight, he or she will again become your property. You cannot interfere, however, unless the temporary master or mistress gives you that right.”
Vickey drained her glass in one gulp. And ordered another. She was going to be sold? Would Alex let that happen? She remembered that Alex had written down her phone number, which was linked to her bank card.
“Let us begin! Send your slaves up onto the stage, please!” the host called out.
In a panic, she looked at Alex. He leaned over to her and whispered:
“Go on, kid, don’t be a scaredy cat. You’ll enjoy it – you insisted that we spend the evening the way I want!” He smiled one of his most charming smiles.
Alex helped her up from her seat and even accompanied her to the stage. Vickey’s legs were shaking, giving out from beneath her. She made it up onto the platform, however, and joined the other eight people, all naked, standing there: four women and four men. They were given numbers. Vickey got number 3.
The auction began.
“Our first lot is a man,” the host proclaimed, perfectly articulating his words. “29 years old, penis – 7 and a half inches, a submissive, male and female tolerant.”
A young man with beautiful wavy hair and a large nose moved forward. He was well-formed, like a Greek statue of a warrior. And he looked just as deep in thought, though lost would perhaps be a more fitting word. He didn’t smile, but stood there with his shoulders spread wide, as if about to do battle.
“The starting price for this lot is a thousand pounds!” The host left a pause, and then added “Going once!”
There had been silence in the auditorium, but now there was whispering. A woman raised her hand at one of the tables and her voice could be heard calling out:
“Two thousand!”
In the semi-darkness, Vickey couldn’t make out the owner of that commanding voice, but from the intonation, it was clear that this wasn’t a woman who was used to denying herself in any way.
“Two thousand – going once!” repeated the auctioneer.
“Three thousand!” came a no less imperious woman’s voice from behind the bar.
“Three thousand going once!” the host repeated again.
“Valeria! Why?” asked the first woman, addressing herself to the woman with the stunning legs. “He said that the man’s a sub – you’ve never been interested in pathetic creatures like that.”
“Because, my dear,” answered Valeria, “today’s my birthday. And for my 45
th I want to give myself an unusual present – a virgin. At least in terms of BDSM.”
“Three thousand – going twice!” continued the auctioneer.
“I’m sorry, Valeria,” came the voice from the auditorium again. “I can’t let you have him, I’ve had my eye on this one for too long. Three and a half!”
“Excuse me, auctioneer!” the man with the goatee beard called out. “Do the rules forbid slaves being bought as presents? I’d like to give a gift to my girlfriend.”
“It’s not forbidden,” the host answered. “What’s your bid, Sir?”
“Five thousand!” said the man, getting up and walking to the stage.
“Five thousand going once!” repeated the host. “Five thousand going twice! Five thousand going three times! The slave goes to Master Eugene.” The host thought for a moment, and then corrected himself: “Or, to be more precise, to his companion, Mistress Valeria.”
Vickey was amazed by the fact that no one present appeared to think that there was anything strange about what was going on. At a loss, she looked from side to side. She caught the eye of her neighbor, a playful brunette with a doll-like nose.
“Where do they all know each other from?” Vickey whispered quietly. The question seemed to be plaguing her.
“Your first time?” whispered the brunette.
Vickey nodded.
“This isn’t the first time for many of the people here,” the girl explained. “BDSM is an entire culture, it has incredible masters, customers who are hungry for this kind of satisfaction, its own rules of behavior and rituals. Don’t be scared – the people here, for the most part, are experienced and on top of that they’re well off.”
The man with the goatee beckoned over the guy with the big nose who had been standing in silence this whole time. The slave went over to him, got down on his knees, kissed his hand, and said that he was ready to serve and obey him. Eugene, also in silence, pointed him in the direction of Mistress Valeria. The guy hobbled over to her on his knees.
The astonishment on Vickey’s face was so evident that her neighbor again lent over to her to whisper something in her ear.
“According to the rules of this house, you must declare your agreement out loud. If you’re not prepared to do that, you’ll be driven out of the house in shame, and your master will be shamed too. Basically, if you really are interested in this subject, then you’re in the right place! I wouldn’t risk refusing. And you get the money from the sale.” She repeated: “Don’t be scared.”
Vickey desperately wanted to catch Alex’s eye, but in the semi-darkness she couldn’t make out the expression on his face. She liked the feeling of pain when Alex sometimes slapped her butt, the feeling of hot wax on her skin, or ice on her nipples, which enhanced the force of her orgasm. But BDSM? With another man?
The second lot was announced – it was one of Valeria’s slaves.
“33 years old, penis – 6 inches, masochist, male-female tolerant,” the auctioneer proclaimed, presenting a muscle-bound man. “And the starting price is one thousand pounds!”
A low, male voice rang out in the room: “I’ll take him! Two? Three?”
“Sir, your bid is three thousand pounds?” the auctioneer asked very politely, but loudly.
Getting up from his chair, a heavyset man confirmed his bid which no one challenged. Valeria’s muscle-bound slave, his sinews rippling, disappeared off into the depths of the room.
“And our third lot, ladies and gentlemen! A woman, 30 years of age, a C-cup, submissive, male tolerant!”
Vickey didn’t immediately realize that the auctioneer was pitching her, but her neighbor gently pushed her forward, and she moved to the edge of the stage. Blood rushed to her head, pouring into her cheeks, neck and ears, pulsing furiously in her temples.
“The starting price is two thousand pounds! Two thousand pounds going once!”
“Three thousand,” came an unfamiliar voice.
Another male voice immediately chipped in: “Four!”
Vickey couldn’t tell who these voices belonged too. She couldn’t take it all in. Alex was silent – he’s silent, so that means that this is what he wants?
“We have a bid of four thousand pounds!” the auctioneer called out.
Valeria’s voice came unexpectedly. She appeared to be addressing Eugene. “You’ve lost out, handsome! Have you changed your mind about taking the blonde to serve you?”
“No, no, I’m just giving the other gentlemen a little time to amuse themselves and tickle their repressed desires,” answered Eugene, going back up to the stage and catching Vickey’s eye.
“Four thousand going twice!” the auctioneer shouted out.
“Five!” said Eugene. “Those grey eyes pleading for mercy are worth at least five!”
“Five thousand going once!”
“Seven!” came a voice from the room, but it was immediately cut off by Eugene bidding ten. That was the final bid.
Ten thousand pounds – an incredible sum. But Vickey couldn’t think about that. When the sound of the auctioneer’s wooden hammer came, Vickey tried to take a step but sensed that she was fainting.
Eugene’s hand gripped her, stopping her falling from the stage. Opening her eyes, she saw a caring, bearded face looming over her, speaking to her.
“Well, well, my dear, what are you worried about? You will get your freedom back very soon.”
Then she saw the face of her beloved. He bent over her, offering her a glass of water. Alex helped Vickey back to her feet. He kissed the top of her head and whispered: “I really want to see this. I want to see another man fucking you.”
Vickey looked into Alex’s eyes and saw that he was absolutely determined. He really did want this. Vickey wanted what he wanted, she wanted to understand him, to get closer to him. She obediently got down on her knees in front of Eugene.
“I agree.”
Eugene raised her up from her knees and led her off to his room.
The master’s room differed from their luxury suite. It was done out in black tones and instead of their vast bed, Eugene had a space covered in black leather with iron chains and elastic ribbons hanging down from the ceiling. She entered and stood in the center of the room.
“Alex, you can go there,” Eugene said to Alex as she entered the room, indicating an old, upholstered armchair in the corner of the room, opposite the missing bed. “There’s a table there with various drinks which you can help yourself too. Have a good evening!” added Eugene ceremonially, turning to Vickey.
Without approaching her, he looked her over for a minute, and then filled two glasses with a sparkling wine.
“I don’t think that a little champagne would do you any harm right now!” he said to Vickey, offering her the glass. “And remember: You must obey your master, but you can stop all this at any time by using a stop-word – choose one.”
Vickey chose the word “xenophobia” – that was a stop-word for her in real life and it was the first thing that came to mind.
Eugene moved around the room without making a sound. His movements were smooth and delicate, as if in a dance. Vickey liked his face, the way he held himself. She thought for a second that he looked like Johnny Depp in Jeremy Levin’s “Don Juan DeMarco”, one of her favorite adaptations.
She relaxed a little and even smiled as she took a sip of champagne. Master Eugene carefully took the glass from her hands and placed it on a glass table covered with a variety of vibrators, whips, high-voltage prods and metal hooks. Vickey followed him with her gaze, the blood beginning to course through her veins again from a new wave of anxiety. She didn’t feel horror or revulsion – this was a very different, complex sensation that she couldn’t give a name to: curiosity, anticipation, excitement?
The Master moved right up close to her and ordered her to get up from her knees. Vickey looked at Alex who was leaning forward, his eyes digging into her – he nodded his consent. Vickey looked back at the Master and immediately received a ringing slap across the cheek. It didn’t hurt, but it was entirely unexpected. The right side of her face turned crimson red.
“That is for your tardiness,” said Eugene. The warmth had gone, but nevertheless he wasn’t aggressive in any way. “Remember: Now I am your only master. You must obey me.”
Her cheek burning, Vickey carried out his orders and got back down on her knees. The Master unbuttoned his trousers and, without hurrying, pulled out his belt. He folded it in two and gently passed it over Vickey’s back, from her butt, pressed up against the soles of her feet, to the top of her head. Vickey felt a flush of goosebumps rolling across the entirety of her skin.
“Suck it,” he ordered.
Vickey helped to free the Master’s cock through his zipper, her hands moving uncertainly. It was large, beautiful, and already aroused. “Like Alex’s, but the skin’s darker,” she thought, immediately receiving a second slap across the cheek.
“I told you that I don’t like to have to repeat myself,” she heard the Master say in a strict voice. This time the Master hit her a little harder, and her other cheek became as crimson red as the first.
Vickey moved her lips up close to the Master’s cock, and very carefully touched its head with her tongue.
The Master again passed the folded belt across her back. She understood that she was to continue. She took the head in her lips and began to suck. Her cheeks burned, her head was spinning, with every movement she took the Master’s cock deeper and deeper into her mouth until she reached the limit. Afraid that she might gag, Vickey stopped.
The Master tenderly caressed her face, her cheek, her shoulders and they relaxed as they sensed the warmth and weight of his hands. He carefully took Vickey’s chin in his hand, slightly raised her face, and at that instant pushed his cock deeper into her throat.
The cock slipped easily into her mouth, going deep. Like a well-oiled piston, it moved back and forth, blocking her breathing. Spit dripped down Vickey’s cheeks and chin. But Vickey felt incredibly aroused at this. Her string knickers were wet, the movements of her hands and head grew more confident and precise. She liked sucking cock. It filled her with a feeling of power. She liked the Master’s cock. She was starting to get into the game.
“Now lick my balls,” ordered Master Eugene.
Vickey stopped, but felt a pang of regret. She thought about Alex, about him sitting silently in the corner, watching her give another man a blowjob. What was he feeling? Jealousy? Was he aroused? She desperately wanted to look at her beloved. But, not daring to disobey the Master again, she began assiduously licking her new owner’s balls.
After a minute, Eugene wound up Vickey’s blond curls in his fist and pulled upwards sharply, forcing Vickey up from her knees. Confidently holding her by the hair, he led her to the leather wall, pushing Vickey’s forehead up against it and attaching broad, hard leather bracelets to her hands and feet. Her heart started to thump frenziedly. Vickey’s legs were a step apart, her hands tied together and raised over her head. The Master pulled on the ropes, the handcuffs pulled Vickey upwards by just a few inches, and now she had to stand on tiptoe to keep her footing.
“So, my dear friend, tell me,” came the Master’s voice from behind her, addressing Alex, “has your slave been serving you well, or has she been behaving like a slut in need of education?”
Vickey couldn’t see Alex, but he could see her. Before answering he finally straightened up, rested back in his chair, and spoke in an entirely calm voice.
“I think, Master, that your education and teaching would do no harm, even to a good slave.”
“Then we’ll begin!” said Eugene.
Vickey heard the Master walking up to the glass table to take the belt that he’d left there. The sound of it rang out right next to her ear. Her entire body flinched as she tried to slip away from it.
But the Master had already pulled the belt to the side and back. With a swift motion he tore her string panties off her. Vickey felt the tender touch of firm leather against her buttocks. She flinched again, as if from a blow, although none came this time. Very gently, the Master began to pass the belt, folded in half, between her legs, touching her swollen clit, the rosy aperture of her anus, ever faster. Vickey could sense her arousal building up fast, and instinctively she curved her spine to meet the belt.
“Cunning!” said Master Eugene, and immediately her buttocks were burned by the hot wave of a blow. “You have to earn satisfaction first. Isn’t that so, dear Alex?”
Hearing the question, Alex discovered that the glass in his left hand was already empty, it had been for some time, and he was rubbing his erection through the fine fabric of his trousers. He nodded to Eugene. He put the glass down, unbuttoned his trousers, and took his cock in his hand, moving his fingers up and down it, his gaze returning to Vickey – he didn’t want to miss a single moment, a single orgasm.
This time the Master picked a large black vibrator up from the table. He pressed its head tight up against Vickey’s clit, strapping its handle to her thigh with the belt.
“Don’t you dare come without my permission!” he ordered, turning on the device.
Powerful waves of vibration started to enter Vickey’s body. Resisting the unavoidable was impossible.
Vickey sensed a single ringing, pulsing point multiplying into thousands, and now she was ascending the stairway of gratification, higher, higher; another fifteen seconds and a groan broke free from her lungs, her body was shaken by a powerful orgasm, and she slumped, hanging from the handcuffs.
Through the shroud of fireworks exploding in her head, she heard Alex’s heavy breathing as his hand slipped around his dick ever faster. And Master Eugene’s words…
“You have again disobeyed. Nobody in this room permitted you to come.”
The Master approached her and unfastened the handcuffs. Vickey literally fell down onto all fours at his feet. He ordered her not to move and again picked up the belt. This time he hit her in all of her softest spots – the blows were precise, one after another, covering her thighs and buttocks in a fine network, making them burn with fire, approaching the area between her legs, still wet from the preceding orgasm.
Vickey shrieked at every blow searing her flesh, but the pain only further aroused her. She felt the belt hitting her clit, and thought that the pain was now unbearable. She shouted out. Suddenly there was a powerful internal push, then another, and another.
The Master entered her from behind, leaving her on her knees. His huge penis slipped deep into her vagina, moving fast, each stroke of friction bringing Vickey closer to orgasm.
He fucked Vickey for a long, very long time. She tried to shout out that she couldn’t take any more. He took her by the hair and pulled her head back towards him. The Master looked into her eyes, sneering, but he didn’t stop moving backwards and forwards. He spat into Vickey’s open mouth.
“Now you can.”
A bright flash of light. For a time, the world around Vickey stopped existing. She couldn’t remember anything – neither Alex, nor this new man, nor how she’d got here. Her body was pierced by billions of electric shocks forcing her entire being to dissolve in waves of ecstasy enveloping her body, surging under her skin, into her muscles, her blood and her brain. The cock shunted in and out. She screamed, and through her scream she heard Alex groaning loudly, coming at the same time as her.
“Yes, yes,” he intoned.
The Master was also coming, sending streaks of white sperm across Vickey’s hair, shoulder and buttocks. Lots of sperm, like drops of hot wax burning her skin. He left Vickey lying on the floor. He walked over to the unfinished glasses of champagne. He took one for himself and offered the other one to Vickey, asking Alex to join them. He spoke in his entirely calm voice.
“Unfortunately, it will be midnight soon, and by the rules of this house I will have to return this wonderful salve to its true master. The temptation to break the rules and keep her until morning is great. Too great! We have, after all, only begun to study the outer limits of permissible pain and ecstasy. But I value my reputation too highly to allow myself this weakness. So, let us raise a glass to this wonderful time spent together! And my financial gratitude, in keeping with the rules of the house and the auction, will be transferred to your account.”
The three of them clinked their glasses, the sound ringing out over Vickey’s head.
“In wonderful moments like this, my young friends, I always recall the words of Jim Morrison,” the Master said in his magical voice. “I’m interested in everything linked to rebellion, disorder, chaos and, in particular, to activities that look nonsensical. I think that this is the route to freedom.”
The Master touched Alex’s shoulder, he smiled his former, warm goodbye to Vickey in parting, and walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.