The realization that I was already two minutes late sent blood rushing to my cheeks, as my palms grew slick with anxiety and the relentless drumming of my heart thundered in my ears. He was going to be even more pissed this time…
I enjoyed counting the strokes of my punishment… the crop whistling through the air, before striking its purchase of pale, supple flesh. Yet to disappoint him… like this… again. The weight of my mistakes guilt me and shame me more than if he ever laid a finger upon me. Why couldn’t I even get the simplest parts right?
The fluorescent brilliance of the buzzer, where his name should have been, only served to confront me further with the reality that awaited me behind that heavy, shit-brown colored door. My King was surely already mulling over my punishments for not only my tardiness, but my obstinacy, as well. I would not keep him waiting any longer and my heels clattered against the stone with every step I took towards my sentencing.
My airways narrowed and my pulse quickened. Why was the idea of me being punctual so hopeless? Germans are of the, “Early is on time and on time is late,” mindset and I could never seem to get it right. My beachcomber roots knew only of time’s influence through the rays of the sun and the soft hum of the streetlights in the muggy, southern nights. Here I was, as almost every time, two shots of vodka dulling the panic of my anxiety, trying desperately to inflate my collapsing lungs. This was it. Soft glowing embers of red light seeped through the slightly cracked doorway, calling me to enter into its depths.
“Put one foot In front of the other… Open the door, knock, and enter. It’s time.”
My internal coaching was some futile attempt to reclaim my senses and physical body, but I knew, in a few moments, it would all belong to him. My body and my mind, my oldest and dearest self, would give themselves unwaveringly to him in some effort to soothe the ego’s addiction for attention. I closed the door slowly behind me, the brilliance of the stairwell lights flickering to black as he took away my sight with his blindfold.
There’s a feeling of ecstasy that comes from suffocation. The edges of reality began fading to black, my hearing descending down the tunnel, hurtling towards nothing and stillness. With one hand wrapped firmly around my throat, he slowly revoked my right to consciousness. I could faintly hear my weak moans of protest as I slipped away, falling into his embrace and into the dark.
My body had already began its acts of betrayal. The slickness between my thighs and the cold tile pressing against my bare chest only proved further, who was truly in control. My mind had begun the process of rebooting, but, as per usual, the German language setting would require a few moments of personal torment and confusion. Searching for some sense of what had happened, I spotted the tatters of my dress and bra, the delicate lace split and shredded by the gleaming safety scissors that rested on the pile of soiled garments. My joints ached, as I began to recognize the pull of his ropes against my wrists and thighs. He was going to make sure that a disrespectful thought would never again cross my mind.
“Hello, sub,” uttered a voice from the nothingness. His voice. The voice that had controlled every orgasm, every bit of pleasure, and my every action during the recent weeks. A voice that slowly stole my will for rebellion and independence. There was only deafening silence and darkness, as apprehension filled the air.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not only were you tardy, AGAIN, but you’re wearing the most atrocious piece of hosiery that I’ve seen yet. Keep your eyes closed.”
The darkness never wavered, even as he granted me my sense of sight. Despite my recent transgressions, I dutifully complied with his directions and voluntarily extended my stay in the blackness that had replaced my vision. His footsteps echoed throughout the room, but my senses would not betray his location. Silence, anticipation, lust. What sins would we commit tonight?
Suddenly, the darkness flooded with blood red light and I knew we would soon begin.
“Open your eyes.”
My King sat upon his throne before me; his eyes burning with a mixture of irritation and delight. I wanted desperately to commit this picture to memory: him, before me with crossed arms: dressed in a black button-down, left open to contrast with the paleness of his skin and the ink of his tattoos; tight leather trousers the clung to him; and the all-knowing smirk of a man who had me at his mercy… my Dom.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/72zamh/2102_part_one_xpost_rbdsmerotica_bdsm_bd
Beautiful intro holds the promise of something great.