Delicious Pain - a BDSM Collection Read Free

almost longed for her Master to have a guest. She imagined herself standing there for quite a considerable period, while tea was served to a number of interested visitors. She heard imaginary conversations. Unknown people discussing the condition of her bottom: its shape, and its redness, and its suitability for various canes and whips. She almost felt inquisitive observers reaching out to finger her fieriness, and test the firm resilience of her cheeks. Some might even slip a finger into her sex.
    She was almost swooning as her Master came across to her.
    "Still nice and hot?" His voice was like silk as he tested her flaming bottom cheeks with an ungentle hand. "Answer me, please, Mary-Anne," he commanded, pulling her this way and that, then massaging her cleft, slowly and wickedly
    "Yes... Yes, sir, I'm still v... very hot," she faltered, gulping furiously as he slid a hand round and caressed her at the front too, fingertips working in a pattern.
    "Then it's time to make you even hotter," he said, whisking away the delicious pleasuring touch. "Come with me, and we'll see what we can do."
    Still hampered by the knickers dangling around her knees, and flooded by the tantalizing shame of it, Mary-Anne followed her master out of the room and up a flight of stairs. At the top, he urged her to shuffle along a corridor, and around a couple of corners, and then conducted her into a sober, mahogany-paneled room. It was another elegant bookroom in reality, but in her imagination, and possibly his, it was a dungeon. She imagined them surrounded by punishment implements of every kind, hung from racks and from pegs, fearsome but imaginary.
    The only real dungeon fixture was a small, but sturdily made oak trestle that stood in the center of the room. The crosspiece was thickly upholstered and covered with soft red velvet, and each upright had a restraint at its base.
    Had he purchased it, or had it made, specially for her?
    "Now, Mary-Anne, I want you to take off all your clothes, then drape your beautiful white body across that bar, as elegantly as you can."
    Slowly, Mary-Anne obeyed him, taking every care to move as gracefully as she could. It wasn't easy. Her nerves made her tremble, and, aware of his preferences, she retained her panties around her knees as she removed her other things. She even kept them in place as she removed her stockings; unhooking her suspenders and holding the knickers at half mast as she tugged her hose down her legs from beneath them. The last item she dispensed with her suspender belt, spreading her thighs to retain her panties as she unhooked it.
    "That's charming, my dear," said her Master, sounding pleased, and if she wasn't mistaken, impressed. Keeping her smile to herself, she felt just as pleased herself. "So much so that I think you may keep your little panties."
    Mary-Anne tried not to breathe hard. Her tangled knickers made her feel even more naked, even more "presented" and subjugated. They were a symbol of her loss of free will and to be in that state made her sex ache and get wetter than ever.
    "And you may wear these too." He held out some objects he'd retrieved from the sideboard while she was busy undressing: a thin, black velvet choker, and a pair of very high heeled black patent leather shoes.
    Knowing she must look foolish in her hobble, Mary Anne fastened on the choker, then stepped into the high stiletto heels.
    In them she swayed, almost fell. She had no grace, no power, she was at the mercy of her own sense of balance. Nor could she set her feet apart and brace herself, with her panties around her knees she was next to helpless.
    "Come along, Mary-Anne," her master urged gently, "I'm waiting... Don't you want to obey me?"
    Befuddled by the gorgeous shame, she couldn't speak a word, but just nodded and began to totter forward. When she felt his hand on her arm, guiding her, she almost wept with emotion. She'd wanted to manage alone... and yet in another way, failing was