[FF] (BDSM) When I was twenty two, I spent about a year as a financially compensated sex slave to a couple over twice my age. (Part 6)

**Part 6**

I followed Judith into the house on shaky legs, still dripping from my orgasm a moment before, I focused on my new life goal as I stared in wonder at all the names on her back. Seventy-eight women’s names, probably over the course of two decades, maybe less. Her tattoo was a compendium of women just like me. She had chosen me. She wanted to add me to that beautiful tapestry. She wouldn’t have told me the significance of those names if she didn’t want to add me to it. I wanted to be a part of this gorgeous woman. To have a symbol of my life and all our experiences together to be etched onto her skin beneath Sweetie’s own unfinished chain. I would do anything to make it so. Anything.

I’m not going to delve too deeply into my reasons for wanting to be this woman’s house slave. Let’s just say that my childhood was a little bit shitty, arguing parents and whatnot, pretty normal stuff in retrospect. However, at that point in my life, when I had no home, I was desperate to belong. Not to say I was ‘homeless’ but I had spent the last three years as a college dropout, sleeping on friends couches or in one of my numerous fuck-buddies’ beds. My sex life was a revolving door of strangers I met at bars and parties, some of whom I’d fuck for a while until they got bored of me or I got bored of them. My friends at the time were just other girls I liked to party with and that was only a slightly slower revolving door. So, when this goddess of passion had brought me to her mansion on top of a hill overlooking the city below, not simply to fuck me and toss me out, but wanted me to be hers… Well, let’s just say that it seemed like I had found myself not only a place to stay, but a place where I felt I could belong.

Sure, her and her man were freaks, most especially him, but I thought of myself as a freak too. The fact that they all liked me so much only confirmed my belief that I must be a freak just like them. Now, I was definitely a slut, but I wasn’t a nympho like Judith was. Whereas I was cool with cumming once a day, maybe more on special occasions or if I had a particularly great lay, pleasing a woman like Judith turned out to be more challenging than any job I’ve ever had since. Not to say it was difficult to make her come, quite the opposite in fact, but sometimes it could take hours to satisfy her entirely. Henry, her man, was another matter entirely, and pleasing them both would take two or three girls working in shifts. The fact that they were both sadists added a whole other level to the task. On top of all the house chores, it was basically a full-time job. However, the pay and the benefits were stellar. Plus, it seemed like my dream job at the time, living in a mansion and getting paid to have great sex. I mean, what more could a slut like me want, right?

We had entered Judith’s bedroom and she told me to go stand next to the crucifix. No, not the kind church-ladies wear around their necks. I mean a human-sized cross made of smooth, polished wood with adjustable bindings and handles as well as a pulley system that could suspend it, and it’s occupant, in the air at various angles. Like I said, Judith was a sadist, the kind that has iron manacles bolted to her bedpost and several glass display cases filled with various tools for pain, pleasure, or both, organized in no particular order that I could figure out. I think maybe she liked to pretend to be looking for a certain implement, giving her subject a few extra seconds to wait and build fear, even though I’m certain that she knew exactly where each and every object was. This was her own bedroom afterall, and she was the kind of person who never had to look for her keys or jacket, so surely she would never misplace her toys.

Now, if you’ve read the previous parts, Henry might seem like a pretty big prick that likes to emotionally bully and slap around vulnerable young women for cash. Judith, as kind and compassionate as she could be at times, just went about the whole thing in a more methodical manner. Henry just like to be rough, the pain and pleasure he caused was just a by-product. To Judith though, the pain and pleasure were the purpose. If you’re wondering why I didn’t nope the fuck out of there right then and there, like I said in Part 5, all three of us had slept in Judith’s bed together the previous night. She had already explained to me the kind of stuff she was into that first night I had spoken with her, she showed it to me then, and while they had both been at work the previous day I had poked around in there just to get comfortable with Judith’s kink.

I’ve already stated that I’m a masochist, but I had never seen anything like her little dungeon before, and I definitely hadn’t experienced anything close to the level of hardcore BDSM that I was about to get myself into. The fact that it was also her bedroom, that she slept in every night, gave it a little less of a dungeony feeling. At that point in my life, as far as BDSM went, I’d been bound in various ways, gagged, paddled, spanked, and had hot wax poured on me, but in comparison to what Judith had in store for me it was all just soft-core stuff with a few guys who had seen some stuff on the Internet and thought they could do it. However, Judith was obviously no amateur and it wasn’t just some hobby for her, but a passion.

I stood next to the wooden cross, thankful that I had never really been to church and didn’t have the stigma involved with the whole Jesus thing. Judith walked into her closet and returned with her uniform in her hands. She placed it on the bed, her every motion slow and deliberate knowing that my eyes were following her while she prepared herself, back turned to me all the while, knowing exactly where my eyes would track. The waiting was excruciating as my mind went through all the possibilities of what implements she might use and what marks she would leave upon my body until she was satisfied.

Judith’s uniform wasn’t like that of a stereotypical dominatrix you’d see in the movies, aside from the thigh-high black stilettos with six-inch heels and her dark hair tied tightly back into a high ponytail, that is. The only article of clothing that she put on was the mostly-sheer black lingerie that fit her body like a glove. It was entirely crotchless, instead being held firmly in place both by it’s elasticity and the built-in garter belt whose straps hooked to a metal ring at the top of her boots on either hip. It purposefully left her back, and the tattoo there, entirely exposed, the top of the uniform held firm by a thorned torc around her neck. No, not spiked, not barbed, but thorned. The torc, a solid metal collar for those of you who don’t know, was black and inlaid with swirling patterns of silver that sparkled in the dim light as she turned to face me. I’ll never forget that moment when she first showed me her true self.

“Are you ready to begin, slave?”

Her words were spoken with the same elegance and class that was always in her tone, but now there was something dark and fiery in her gaze that sent a shiver up and down my spine before I felt it radiating throughout my entire body. My heartbeat had been racing before, but suddenly it was thunderous. I know that the fear I felt was evident on my face because I saw the look of glee cross hers, her eyes alight with the desires I didn’t yet realize were insatiable. And then, I made my first mistake. I glanced at the open door of her bedroom. Not just a flick of the eyes, but a full on jerk of my head as some base human instinct screamed that there was a predator with claws and fangs that was about to tear me to pieces if I didn’t run right then.

It was the look of disappointment I saw on her face when I looked back at her that brought me back to my senses. Seeing that look on her face, even momentarily, made me feel ashamed for my weakness. Sure, we were barely more than strangers, but I trusted Judith. The fact that her face showed disappointment in that instant where I thought about running, rather than anger or an even greater degree of sadistic glee, showed me that it was still my choice whether or not I wanted to stay. That was all it took for me to push through my fear. Before she could say anything or think I needed to be reminded that she would never force me to do anything, I made myself look into her beautiful blue eyes and I answered her honestly,

“Yes, Mistress.”

That answer never ceased to please Judith. She began ordering me then. Kneel. All fours. Stand up. Turn to your left. Turn one hundred and eighty degrees. Face me. Kneel. All fours. Crawl to me. Face down ass up. Kiss the top of my left foot. Now the other one. On your knees. Stand up. Tell me what you are.

“I’m your slave, Mistress.”

I had followed all of her directions perfectly, and it was time for my reward.

“Stand by the crucifix.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Put your back to it and heels on the foothold.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Arms spread. Back straight.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

My heart thudded in my chest as she adjusted the handles and locked them in place so that I could reach them both and grasp them tightly. If you’ve ever been nervous or fearful, your palms have probably gotten a little sweaty. Let’s just say that keeping a firm grip on the perfectly smooth, cylindrical metal bars would prove to be difficult if she decided to use the pulleys. She didn’t however, and neither did she fasten the leather straps around my wrists. The only thing she used to bind me that first day was my own willpower and self-determination not to fail her and to be exactly what she wanted me to be. There was no experience in my life that could have prepared me for a person like Judith.

She left me to stand there, the foothold I stood on only big enough for the heels of my feet. She retrieved something from one of the display cases and walked over to me. In one hand she held a single leather glove. In the other, a shiny metal disk. She watched me as I looked at them briefly before I steeled myself and met her gaze. She gave me one of her usual smiles, and opened the the disk to show me what was inside. To my surprise, it was just an eye-liner case. She stuck the glove in her boot, and then began applying the eyeliner to my eyes. I hadn’t been wearing any make-up, no one else in the house did while they were there, so I felt no need to. I kept my hands gripped tightly around the handles trying not to move a muscle until she finished. Then, using the mirror in the case, she applied it to her own eyes, and clicked the case close, throwing it behind her onto the large bed without her gaze leaving me.

This gorgeous goddess was suddenly looking more and more like a demonic succubus. My courage built as my confidence that, she might hurt me, but not harm me. However, just as I became braver, so too did she become bolder. Judith was apparently done giving me orders. Instead, she slid the leather glove over her left hand, tugging it so that it fit snuggly. She began to use that hand to caress my body, not lovingly or intimately as she had done previously, but hungrily, the small cold metal claws on her fingertips scratching my flesh. They weren’t sharp enough to cut and weren’t long enough to dig into flesh unless she had really tried to pierce me, but they scratched like cat claws. She never took her eyes off of mine and I couldn’t have taken my eyes off her even if I wanted to because her gaze had a way of grabbing a hold of me like a fish on a hook, the only release being the mercy of the one holding the line. And Judith wasn’t the kind to show such mercy.

Using those claws, she left scratches all over the front of my body. My breasts, upper thighs, stomach, shoulders, arms, and neck. With a single claw, she drug a single line, harder than before, from just above the corner of my eyebrow, down my cheek, and under my chin. That scratch had actually hurt and would have made me flinch away if I hadn’t been holding myself so steady. She smiled approvingly. Then, holding the sides of my jaw between her clawed finger and thumb she kissed me, the merest touch of our lips, yet still it was enough to draw a whimper from me. Or maybe the whimper was because the claw on her thumb was much sharper than the other four and I felt the point of it pierce the flesh of my cheek. Not enough to scar, but enough to draw a drop of blood, the way a thumbtack would. That’s a pretty apt analogy actually.

With the index finger of her right hand, she wiped the blood from my cheek and tasted it. Closing her eyes, and letting out a slow breath as if savoring it. No, Judith isn’t a vampire, but for a split second I wondered if maybe I really had fallen into some alternate reality where such a thing might be possible. The past couple days had been pretty fucked up, so I don’t think it would have been a totally crazy leap in logic by that point. It sure would explain a lot of the weirdness. Turns out, she just really likes the taste of blood. She never drank it from a chalice or anything like that. Judith wasn’t that kind of crazy, but she liked to taste a drop here and there during our sessions, or certain other times, if you know what I mean.

Eyes opening to discover the look of horror on my face as I tried to reassure myself that vampires weren’t real, she giggled. Wasn’t a laugh or a chuckle, but a giggle, like she had done this countless times and had seen people thinking exactly what I had been thinking. She removed the glove, tossing it behind her like she had done with the eyeliner case. She began tracing my skin with her right hand then in the same places she had with the claws a moment before, starting at my face, then moving onto my body. So far, aside from the thumb claw, she hadn’t actually hurt me. She enjoyed my anticipation of the pain as much as the pain itself, you see.

Her left hand cupped my right breast, fondling it. Then she began to fondle my other one with her other hand at the same time. My breasts were only b-cups at the time, but on the smaller side of the scale. She looked to be enjoying herself immensely and once she began playing with my nipples, I felt that telltale tightening in my lower abdomen and my hips squirmed from side to side. My nipples had already been hard and it had nothing to do with the room temperature. The house was always kept at a constant, comfortable temperature because Henry and Judith liked their slaves to be naked or mostly so while they were home. They liked us to be comfortable, until they didn’t, that is.

Judith, seeming to break character for just an instant said,

“I love your nipples. They’re so honest.”

Not knowing if I should respond but knowing that there would be at least one response that would always be acceptable to anything resembling a compliment from her in the moment, I said,

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She smiled, looking back to meet my excited gaze, then said,

“Wait right here. I have a present for you.”

With that, she turned and left the room; her stilettos clicking on the hard floor. I knew better than to rest or let go of the handles. Honestly, her playing with my nipples like that made me want to touch myself so badly that I began squirming. I had lost track of how long I had been standing there. And if you’ve ever stood on a hard surface with all your weight balanced on the balls of your feet for more than a minute or two then you know it gets a little painful. Not unbearably so, but it definitely isn’t comfortable, especially when you know that all you need to do to make the ache stop is to step forward. However, Judith had told me to wait, and I knew she would be expecting to find me exactly where she had left me. I had already disappointed her once, and at the very start, too. So, a little discomfort wasn’t going to stop me. Still, as the minutes ticked by, I began to realize that she must be doing some kind of abandonment play. There were no clocks in the room so I couldn’t guess how long she had left me standing there, bound by my own stubborn determination, but it was long enough for my nipples to softened again by the time she came back.

Not bothering to apologize for the wait, Judith walked up to stand in front of me, holding out a jewelry case. She waited until my eyes were on it before she opened it to reveal two small earrings. Both of them were silver with a small emerald on either one, the same color as my eyes. They were so lovely, I let go of one of the handles momentarily to reach out, but my hand had barely left the handle before Judith spared it a quick glance, her raised eyebrow had been enough to tell me that had been a mistake. I immediately grabbed the handle once more and her eyebrow fell. I told her,

“Thank you, they’re very pretty, Mistress.”

Judith smiled and asked me if I wanted her to put them in now. I got the feeling that it hadn’t exactly been a question. I replied,

“Yes, Mistress.”

She walked over to one of the display cases and took something out of one of them. As she stood in front of me once more, I discovered that the thing she had retrieved was a piercing kit. I told her,

“My ears are already pierce, Mistress.”

She looked up at me and smiled. With a devious smile that dared me to refuse her, she said,

“These aren’t earrings.”

I remembered her complimenting my nipples moments before and it all clicked into place. I couldn’t say anything. The only piercings I had were my ear lobes. I had considered other piercings of course, but had never actually done it because my nipples had always been plenty sensitive. Still, I was prepared to do anything, and Judith’s nipples were pierced, so was her clitoral hood for that matter. So, I steeled myself once more and didn’t protest. She played with my right nipple until it was hard again. I gripped the sweaty handles until my knuckles were white even before the needle pierced my sensitive, tender flesh. I watched it bleeding as she put the ring in. Despite her gentleness and clear expertise, the pain made me grit my teeth as I let out a growl of pain. Then she did the other one. Impossible as it seemed, that one hurt even more and my mouth opened to let out an embarrassing squeal as she put in the other ring.

Blood drizzled down from my breasts and I could see Judith trying very hard not to lick it from my body.

“What do you say when someone gives you a gift?”

Meeting her eyes, knowing that the eyeliner she had put on me was likely starting to make streaks from the corners of my eyes due to the tears of pain blurring my vision, I replied,

“Thank you, Mistress.”

And with that, she had marked me forever. Although, the night had only just begun.

TL;DR: Just after having sex on the back patio, Judith brings me to her bedroom. She makes me stand still on a cross, bound only by my own willpower and determination to please her while she begins marking my body with one of her many implements of sadism. Then, to my surprise, she pierces my nipples, so that I can wear the first gifts she ever gave to me.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/aeevcf/ff_bdsm_when_i_was_twenty_two_i_spent_about_a