^(()[^(I also performed this)](https://soundgasm.net/u/Brenna_Sage/F4M-Black-Widow)^(, which I feel is a much better representation of the work than the writing. But I do hope you enjoy!))
I knew what you wanted, the moment you walked in that first evening.
You brought your girl with you, and you both tittered about at the entrance of the club. Scared. Nervous. Excited. *Fresh meat.*
You were my favorite kind of prey.
I watched you from my usual spot, studying you both. The way the two of you interacted, the way she’d reach for you unconsciously as you wandered further in and toward the bar. So meek. So coy. She was intrigued, but all the latex and lingerie made her feel out of her element. She wasn’t comfortable in this place. Not comfortable in her skin. Not yet. Not until I was done with her.
Now you, you were her stability. You were nervous too, the tension in your spine told me that, but also…resolute. You wanted to be here. *You* were the reason you both had wandered into my lair.
I knew *exactly* what you wanted. But did you? That was my only question.
I lost track of you for most of the night. Forgot about you, if I can be honest. When I’m with my subs, when we’re in a scene, I devote my entire focus to that room. No one else exists. You understand. Or at least your girl does. Doesn’t she?
You could have chosen any room to explore. The Red Room, all full of velvet and softness. That’s where you should have gone. That’s where the beginners go. There aren’t even any beds in there, so you couldn’t have gotten into any trouble.
Or perhaps the green room, where the couples go to play together. You would have had so much fun there. Maybe gotten a simple hand job from another swinger, and gone home so excited that you’d dipped your toes in the water. That you’d been so brave.
You could have even gone to the Silver room. It might have frightened you, to see all the chains hanging from the ceiling, the shiny metal of the operation table we used as a centerpiece.
You had a dozen colors to choose from.
But you chose the Black Room. *My* room.
You weren’t safe here, and I think you knew that. I think you knew that you were in over your head. And you liked it.
You liked the feeling of drowning.
I’m not sure how long you were there, behind the glass, watching me work. My scenes don’t break until my subs do, and that night, the sub I had bound to my wall-mounted cross wanted to challenge me. I punished him for that, forced him to orgasm over and over, until he was hoarse from screaming. Until he was a sweaty mess, hanging limp from his chains and looking deliciously sated.
You didn’t know the rules back then. Typically the voyeurs watched, silent, and when the scene was over, they’d wander to another room to watch, or slip into one of the more colorful rooms to release all that sexual tension. It wasn’t the norm for a patron to wander into an occupied room, even during cleanup. It certainly wasn’t the norm to ask a Mistress of my caliber for an impromptu scene.
I was still washing the bevy of body fluids and lubricant from my hands when you introduced yourselves, like you thought we were at a sales conference. I still remember the look on your face, how that politician’s smile faded when you looked in my eyes, and realized what a grave mistake you’d made. Approaching *me* of all people.
And yet, you met my fiery gaze through your fear. You were so brash. So confident that you, ultimately, were in charge. That hubris, above anything else, was the reason I let you continue to speak.
I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted to know if you were brave enough to ask.
And you were. All you wanted was to give your girl a night she’d never forget. A night you could never give her. There’s no shame in that, and you knew it. You wouldn’t go to a barista with engine troubles. You wouldn’t go to a mechanic when you need your gallbladder out. And no doctor in the world was going to make your girl cum as deeply and as often as she would with me.
In this room, in this club, *I* was the professional. And I would make her cum with surgical precision.
I knew what *you* wanted. One night of watching her be pleasured by someone else. But seeing the blatant hunger in her eyes, the raw anticipation of what I could give her, of what she’d been missing all this time…perhaps her whole life. The promise that if I said yes, she would come alive for me. She didn’t *want* this. *She* *needed it.*
I let her choose. I watched her eyes drift from one contraption to the next, each more daunting than the last. There were so many toys in my room, which would she choose? The revolving wheel, where I could make her cum upside down? The throne, where I could bind her limbs but leave her holes exposed for me to edge and torment? Perhaps the whipping bench? The inversion rack? I could even wheel in the fucking machine with a little notice.
She took her time deciding what apparatus I would use to consume her with. I needed nothing but my own skill to do that, but it gave her pleasure to imagine the possibilities. The last measure of control she’d have…concerning me.
When she’d chosen, I prepared the necessary things. Lubricant. Flog. Spreader bars. I watched her face as I carefully selected the items, set them out with meticulous care. Saw her breath quicken. Her eyes dilate. Her mouth water.
We handled the business side of things quickly. Establishing boundaries. Safe words. Explicit consent, complete with a form and her signature. Consent forms are very important when you visit the Black Room. Did you realize, as she put pen to paper, just what your girl was signing away?
I made her undress, inspected every inch of her with my eyes before I cuffed her wrists to the bar, spreading her arms wider with each pull of the chain. When I clicked the bar at her ankles to lock her legs open, when she hovered there facing you, suspended like a glorious butterfly caught in my web, did you realize you were going to watch her be devoured?
My process was efficient. I explored her with my hands; teased, and taunted her, coaxing a submission from her that she was all too willing to give. Each subsequent slap of the flog on her breasts, her ass, her pussy, made her struggle against the bindings, made her moan and cry out and curse with need. To beg for more. More of the pain, more of the pleasure. More of *me.*
I could have brought her to climax with the flog alone. But I wanted her to experience true, unmitigated pleasure. If only just this once. To be free of all her mental bindings, even as she was locked in literal ones.
I didn’t need lubricant. She was already so wet for me. You knew that. You saw it, trailing down her legs in rivulets. And when my hand finally touched her pussy, she melted. *Liquified*. Drained of her loyalty to you.
As I purred in her ear, teased and coaxed her, told her what a good girl she was for me, did you notice me look at you? Or were you too fixed on her expression to see mine? Did you want her to use her safeword? Did you finally see how close the predator had gotten?
Were you scared? Or aroused? *Or both?*
And when she was soo close to the brink that her entire body quaked with the impending explosion, I fisted my free hand in her hair, and made her look at *you…* while she came for *me*.
As I sank my fangs in, buried that venom deep…I wanted you to watch the life that you knew with her, drain from her eyes.
I knew, as you left with her, legs still quivering with unbridled sensation, just how deeply this night would change you both.
She would wear my bite now like an unseen brand, for eternity.
It would eat at her, slowly rotting away at her other fantasies, until I’m all that’s left. Until she doesn’t touch herself without remembering me. Until she can’t take another day without my mouth, my hands, my toys, and my words coaxing her back to my beautiful darkness.
She was a delicious treat, but she was not my prey.
*You were.*
I knew what you wanted, the moment you walked in tonight. You walked willingly back into my lair, desperate for your own demise.
To experience for yourself, what it feels like to be claimed by the Black Widow.
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**This is a work of fiction created by adults, for adults. It is to be consumed only by those over the age of 18.**
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kl11cy/black_widow_fm_ff_bdsm