This story was written for Ali.
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Ali blinked her eyes open as the sun shone onto the bed, and wondered for a moment if all that had happened the previous day was simply a dream. No, she could feel his presence pressing into her bare skin; it had all been real.
In bed, beside her Master, the morning after, she thought back to all the circumstances which had brought her to this point.
Ali had always liked to stand apart from the crowd, in fact actively rebelled. Her parents loved her but did not always understand her, for that matter neither, at times, did her friends.
Her latest point of rebellion had been two tattoos, one of a spider done on her pubic bone, the other a red star in the small of her back. They had kicked off a firestorm of anger from her parents, something that simmered as she went off to college.
That was last year though. This summer she had decided not to go back home after she finished college for that year; she had found a job at a local magazine, learning to help edit articles.
It was there she had met him. He was older, in good shape, and most intriguingly to Ali, was mysterious. Their respective jobs entailed frequently working together where Ali came to see him as something of a mentor. Since he was divorced, he often worked late, and asked her to help him. She enjoyed the responsibility he gave her, especially how he treated her like an adult. Still there was a side of him he kept to himself, Ali could intuit that.
After a couple of months, he regularly invited her out for a coffee after their days’ work was done. Ali was always eager to accept.
It was at one of these soirees that he first broached the idea of her editing an article on bondage, and S&M. In retrospect she would realise he had been feeling her out.
“Ali, what do you know of what is called BDSM?” he asked.
Laughing she said, “Well I hear it’s all about chains, whips, and spanking.”
He looked into her brown eyes studiously, saying “It’s much more than that Ali, and if you want to do a credible job on this article, you will have to do some research.”
Ali noted the serious inflection in his voice.
Returning the tone to a casual one, he asked Ali, “Have you ever been spanked?”
Ali blushed a deep shade of crimson.
“So you have have you, he teased! Out with the details young lady.”
Still red faced, she explained “I was with this guy who just happened to smack my ass a couple of times after we’d had sex. It was just that one time, but I kinds liked it.” And there the issue was left for the time being.
Ali was as good as her word as she heavily got into researching the topic. She was astounded at the variety of approach, techniques, equipment, and sundry other details. As often as possible she would discuss it with him, never ceasing to be amazed at how much he knew about the subject, and wondering how that was.
It happened one day out of the blue.
He came up to her after they had finished for the day, and casually said to her “Ali how would you like to come up to my cottage this weekend? You can obviously see I know a lot about BDSM, and I can tell you want to learn more. I can be that teacher.”
Ali was stunned.
Yet, when it came to doing something others might have found outrageous, she never hesitated to take the plunge.
“Sure.”
The weekend came in no time, and he picked her up at her apartment early Saturday morning.
Their familiar chit chat on this day was at a minimum, Ali because she was in a bit of a fog at the suddenness of this invitation, and he, well she didn’t quite know why.
In no time they arrived at the cut-off from the main highway, then onto a smaller country road.
He turned off the road, onto a small private lane which led to his summer cottage. It was beautiful. Situated amongst the forest was a small picturesque abode surrounded by flowers in full bloom.
“We’re here Ali” he said, “but don’t get out of the car yet.” Ali waited until he came around the other side then opened the door. She got out, and stretched to remove the stiffness from her muscles.
He reached inside his coat pocket, and pulled out what looked like a black blindfold. Ali looked at him with some suspicion at what was about to happen. “Ali”, he said, “you must trust me implicitly as I will not hurt you, but you must be willing to do as I bid. And that must start with me putting this blindfold on you.” Ali quietly thought for a moment before gently nodding her head in acquiescence.
Seizing the moment, he put the blindfold around her head. It was a surprise to Ali just how blinding it was – it had little padded cups which fully kept out any light.
Taking Ali’s hand, he guided her into the cottage, and then brought her into a room where he sat her down on a chair.
“I’ll be right back Ali; I’m just going to bring in our bags”. Ali paused in the quiet reflection which the blindfold allowed. She could smell a subtle fragrance in the air, something like a floral scent. In the background she could hear the noises of the forest, abuzz with songs from birds, and the chirping of crickets. It also allowed her to feel just how isolated she was, but she quickly dismissed any such thoughts, besides no-one had forced to come here.
Ali could hear him enter with the bags and his footsteps seemed to echo from a hall. It seemed a long time before she could hear his return, which made her realize just how much she depended on her sight to let her know what was happening. The missing visual clues also seemed to affect how she perceived time – he could have been gone for a few minutes or maybe ten, but she could not tell.
“Ali stand up” her quiet reverie broken, she did as he bid.
“Ali I have brought you here to experience my world. I will introduce you to pleasure and pain in a way you have never known; you will learn the line between them is more blurry than you have ever imagined. You will learn to let go as you have never before. You will learn to submit to my will in the knowledge that what I am doing is best for you. We will begin your education right away.”
As soon as he had finished, he took hold of her arm, and brought her down a short hall into another room, then let go of her arm to go off to another part of the room. A persistent squeaky noise filled the room. Ali wondered what that was about; her answer was soon in coming as she felt an object touch the sides of her arms. The objects of her curiosity were not rough, but felt soft on her bare arms. She could feel his presence nearby.
Her right wrist was taken away from the side of her body, tightly in the grasp of his hand. There was a certain smell in the air – what was it she thought – yes it was leather. She felt something soft being put around her wrist, then heard the sound of a buckle being fastened, and she knew what it was. The same thing happened with her left hand.
“What are you doing?” Ali asked. Only silence which was soon broken by the same previously heard squeaking. This time though, Ali could feel her arms being pulled up into the air until they were stretched fully above her head, but not so much they pulled her off the floor. Ali was beginning to have second thoughts.
Those feelings were only exacerbated moments later when he came up behind her, and forced the gag into her mouth. Quickly it was tied behind her head, leaving her not only without sight but being unable to make a sound.
She felt him move away.
Alone she stood in this position, and of him there was no sign. Ali began to wonder just how smart she had been in going along with this.
Time passed but how long she knew not. Then she could hear his footsteps. She felt better, maybe he would let her go now she thought.
Wordlessly, he approached her. She could hear his breathe, and smell his aftershave now that he was close. The next moment caught her by surprise as she felt a cool metallic shape on her arm which was dragged softly along the side of her arm to the top of her arm, then disappeared.
Snip, snip, snip. Ali felt the tug on the sleeve of her blouse then heard the fabric ripping. Every so often she could feel the cool movement of the bottom of the scissors, each movement allowing more of the fabric to fall open. It went to the top of her collar then followed the same pattern, only in reverse, on the other side. The top of the blouse now lacking support, slipped down Ali’s body. It only remained for him to put his hands on the two separate halves of material, and pull them apart.
Rip. There it was, her blouse was pulled off her body, leaving her to feel the air on her exposed skin. Ali began to shake, goose bumps arose on her flesh.
Ali was scared. What was he going to do next?
The answer again was not long in coming. She felt his hands on her white bra, first grasping at the arm supports which were cut. Ali who was proud of her generous measurements immediately felt her breasts slip at the loss of their upper support. All he had to do now was unhook the rear clasp, and her bra would fall away, but no this was not what he had in mind. Taking the scissors, he slipped them under the front band between her breasts, and cut. To the floor, her bra fell; she could feel it hit her feet.
Then she heard his steps again. What was he going to do now she asked herself?
Apparently nothing was going to happen as she found out when the moments seemed to slip into tens of minutes.
Ali was starting to doze as time passed, yet she quickly came to as she heard the return of the familiar footsteps.
His hands came around her, grasped the front snap of her jeans, and tugged it open. Ali felt him pulling them down her thighs. As he did so her white panties began to follow suit, yet he stopped what he was doing to pull them free of the jeans, and pulled them back up to her waist. Returning to the jeans, he pulled them right down to her ankles, but he did not remove them entirely. He left them draped around her ankles.
If Ali thought his action at pulling her panties back up to her waist was to guard her modesty, she soon learned that was not the case. He got up from his position behind her, while leaving his hands on her waist, and circled to her front. Ali felt his hands grab her waist band, then slowly, almost teasingly, pull them down her legs. There they were left to sit on top of her jeans.
This time he lingered where he was in front of her. She could feel his breathe on her exposed, shaven pussy. Also, she could hear his breathing had quickened, even if only slightly.
Then he got up, and walked away.
