I’m so excited about tonight. He got us tickets for the exclusive ‘Behind Closed Doors’ Exhibition. The works explore the theme of dark desires. It features different forms of art, from photography and paintings to performance art and interactive installations.

I’m just as thrilled to share it with him as I am to see it. We both arrived this afternoon and checked into our hotel room. We agreed to 24 hours of free use.

A lot of calls, messages, and an extensive checklist preceded today. My body is for him to use as he pleases, within the limits we consent to, of course. No tickling, to name one.

I zip up my floor-length burgundy dress with a deep V-neck and a high side slit. My finger- and toenails are painted in a matching color named Robert’s Red Ford. I slip on my strappy black velvet heels, and drape my brown curls aside to hook in my long gold earrings.

I exit the bathroom. He is sitting in the room, reading. Something about engineering. I don’t get it. I take pleasure in reading as well, but I want my books to be like my men, hot and kinky. I take him in: tall, black suit, silver-grey hair, stubble that only makes him sexier. While I check him out, his dark eyes lift from his book.

“Do you approve of my outfit?” I ask when I do a twirl.

He looks at me, pensive. He sets his book aside and walks towards me. “Hands behind your head. Spread your legs.”

I interlock my fingers at the back of my head and await his verdict. His eyes roam my body while he slowly circles me. When he’s standing behind me, his hands slide from my waist to my thighs.

When his hand finds the slit in my dress, it travels up between my legs. Yes, right there.

He abruptly stops and recoils. “Why are you wearing underwear? Take it off.”

I drop my panties and step out of them.

“Your bra as well.”

I unclasp it and pull it out from under my dress. All of a sudden, the deep V-neck feels much riskier.

He retreats to the bed. “Come here,” he commands.

I step toward him when he barks, “Stop! How does a sub move for her Master?”

“On her knees,” I respond, dropping to the floor. I struggle with my dress when I crawl to him. I remain kneeling at his feet.

He stays silent for a while, which makes me tense.

“How are you feeling, sub?” he asks.

“Nervous,” I reply, “and a bit horny too,” I add shyly.

“Good,” he smirks, “I like my subs nervous and horny. I want to make it exceedingly clear who you listen to and belong to tonight, so lie on my lap and get your dress up.”

I awkwardly drape myself over his lap with my ass exposed. He makes me wait. Nerves flutter through my belly. Without warning, a loud slap sounds through the room when his hand lands firmly on my bottom. I yelp in surprise.

“Count,” he instructs.

“One,” I say.

Three more spanks follow in quick succession.

“Two, three, four,” I groan. They all landed on the same spot. Oh, that stings. I brace myself. He waits; I squirm. He spanks me on my other butt cheek, two times in a row. “Five, six,” I gasp. The smacks increase in impact. “Seven, eight,” I moan.

“So beautiful the way your ass colors red for me,” he hums.

I feel my face burning as it turns just as red.

“Open your legs,” he directs. His fingers slide through my needy slit, and I whimper.

“Such an aroused little sub,” he chuckles.

He swats me on my pussy. “Nine, ten,” I cry out.

His fingers return to my cunt, circling my clit. Oh god, I’m so close to cumming.

“You like this, hm?”

“Yes,” I say, strained.

He inserts two fingers. Oh yes. I push back against his hand to get the friction I’m craving. He removes them, and I whine in disappointment.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says, tutting, “On your knees.”

I place myself at his feet. He presents his two wet fingers. I know what he expects, but maybe I can tempt him into fucking me instead. I need an orgasm.

I lick his index finger agonizingly slowly while I look at him. I sink my warm mouth around it, and I purr with a mischievous smile. A low growl escapes him. When that finger is clean, I give his middle finger some long licks, and then I suck it with great enthusiasm, swirling my tongue around it. I see the bulge straining against his pants.

“Stand up, and grab your ankles,” he grunts.

My dress slides back into place, so he exposes my bare ass again. His foot pushes my legs farther apart.

“I think you need a reminder of your submission to take with you,” he says in a low tone. He rubs something between my wet folds. Is it a dildo?

Unexpectedly, it travels upwards as he starts to invade my tightest entrance. Oh no, does he want me to wear a butt plug all night? I tense up.

“Relax,” he murmurs, “Or not. Either way, it is going in.”

I breathe out as I try to accept the foreign object into my body. Slowly, the plug stretches the ring of muscles it is passing through. Just when I think I cannot handle the stretch anymore, it slips all the way in.

“The Uber I ordered is here,” he says, “Let’s go.”

En route, I wriggle in my seat. The plug is so present. And I’m worried I will get too wet and leave a spot on the back of my dress. He watches me with a smile plastered to his face. I scowl at him.

He lifts his eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah, I forgot,” he said, “I got a surprise for you.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his vest and pulls out some golden tweezer clamps with beads attached. “These will complement your outfit wonderfully.”

“What? Now?” I whisper with a hint of panic in my voice, “I can’t put them on now. The driver will see.”

“I expect them on your nipples before we arrive,” he states.

I turn my upper body to the window so the driver doesn’t see me in his rearview mirror. Let’s hope no one looks into our car while I’m doing this. As quickly as I can, I secure the clamps. “Done,” I say while blowing out the big breath I was holding in.

“Are they properly fastened?” he asks. “Show me.”

I huff. After a glance if the driver’s eyes are on the road, I lean over and reveal my breasts. He pulls each clamp and decides to tighten them some more. There is no ignoring them now, that’s for sure.

We arrive at the venue. On the weathered exterior of the old warehouse are video projections of people intensely kissing. I stare at it with big eyes, mesmerized.

“You seem excited,” he says.

“I can’t wait to see what’s inside,” I beam.

A red carpet leads us into the building. When we enter, there are some cubicles on the right. Giggles coming out of the first one spark my curiosity, and I peek around the corner. A couple is kissing in front of a camera. The projections on the building are live.

He pulls me into the second cubicle. “Hands on your head,” he says hoarsely while he positions me in front of the camera.

He is behind me. His hands wander over my body, enjoying every curve. His face is buried in my curls, breathing me in. The warmth of his touch radiates through my dress. He grabs my breasts, and I close my eyes in delight.

Without warning, he pulls the deep V in the front of my dress apart, which exposes my breasts. I startle and want to cover up.

“Where are your hands supposed to be?” he reminds me in a calm but directive tone.

I quickly put them back in place. Oh no, everybody will see me like this. He tugs on the clamps. I moan deeply, as the pinch on my nipples wipes all disruptive thoughts away. My head falls back against his shoulder.

“You needed that, didn’t you?” he whispers into my ear.

A contented sigh while I nod is my response.

“Good girl,” he purrs.

He fixes my dress. After a fast kiss on my neck, he guides me out of the cubicle. We almost bump into another couple who just entered the warehouse. Recognition flashes across their faces.

Oh god, they just saw me projected on the building. Every gaze of someone walking by feels like a burning spotlight. My eyes look around frantically for a dark corner to hide in.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he breathes so only I can hear, “You are gorgeous. Be proud of yourself.”

I take a steadying breath as we walk through the surrounding people. There is a small crowd gathered around a stage. It’s a showcase of some intricate rope art. A radiant woman in a black lace body with pale skin and red hair is suspended in the air. Her underarms are tied on top of each other in the small of her back. On both legs, the rope secures her calf and ankle to her thigh. The elaborate knotting levitates her in a kneeling position. Her fiery hair is firmly affixed to the cord between her ankles, her head tilted back. Entranced, I stare at how serene she looks. She is completely immobilized, and yet she seems at ease. I am enthralled and turned on at the same time.

His arms envelop my waist. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he utters.

“Mhm,” I hum in agreement while I press my ass against his crotch and move my hips sultrily.

“Stop that,” he grumbles.

“You sure? By the feel of you, you seem to like it?” I ask sweetly, while I grind against him.

His voice drops an octave when he threatens, “If you don’t stop immediately, my hard-on is going to get us thrown out of here. And I will not hesitate to spank your bare ass right here, right now, in front of everybody, before that happens.”

I freeze. “I’m sorry, Master,” I reply bashfully. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck. “I will keep the teasing for when we get back to the hotel room,” I say while I peek at him through my eyelashes.

A barely noticeable smile curves his mouth. “Don’t think you are off the hook for what you pulled just now. We will revisit this later.” His voice is full of promise. A quiver travels through my body as I take a last glance at the rope bunny that is twirled around by her rigger.

In silence, we enjoy each other’s company as we stroll through a great photography collection. It portrays the naked human body in all its glorious forms and sizes. At the end of the gallery, there is a heavy velvet burgundy curtain that demarcates a separate zone of the exhibition.

We part the heavy drapery that surrounds an intimate area. It is darker here; the lighting and atmosphere sensual and seductive. A group of people encircles an art installation. The voices are hushed, like nobody wants to disturb the scene. I pull him after me; I’m so curious. Her noises reach my ears before I set my eyes on her.

On the ground kneels a restrained and blindfolded woman. Her long blonde angelic hair is already a bit sweaty from being in this state. A visitor is pumping two fingers forcefully in her pussy as she bucks against her restraints. She has barely any freedom to move. She fights her ties fiercely nonetheless.

Suddenly, a light that was green at first turns to red. The man stops, and she sobs.

I read the sign that accompanies the woman.

“This work is called ‘Perpetual horniness’. The model consented and is a willing part of this art piece. A medical examination and a thorough interrogation were conducted before participation in this project. The model will be held in a constant state of arousal for 12 hours. The green light is an invitation for art enthusiasts to get involved. You are welcome to stimulate the model. Inflicting permanent damage is, of course, prohibited. Constant surveillance will monitor the safety and well-being of the model. When the light turns red, you must immediately stop touching her. It means she is close to cumming. The artist wants you to discover your inner voyeur and delight in the beauty that lives on the edge of ecstasy. Enjoy.”

12 hours, wow, that is intense. Her breathing is labored, but her chest, which was heaving at first, gradually relaxes and her breaths return to a steadier rhythm. One of the people dressed in black standing beside the model, with an earpiece in, crouches down and lets her drink water from a cup with a straw. She does so, greedily. I study the electrodes stuck to the model’s body. They assess when she is on the verge of release. The man in black asks something, and I see the woman nod before he resumes his position in the background.

The light turns green. A woman among the spectators strides forward in extremely high red patent leather shoes. I am impressed. I would break my legs staggering in those stilts. The woman grabs a wand vibrator from the table next to the model. She puts it on high speed and presses it between the model’s legs. In no time, the model starts trembling all over. Her respiration hitches. It takes only a minute or so before the light shifts to red again.

I’m transfixed. The model’s lush and round breasts rise and fall in synchrony with her panting. The clock next to her flips from 5:31 to 5:30. She is already at it for 6 and a half hours. That’s crazy. Her cunt is swollen and glistening wet. She is dripping down her thighs, leaving a little puddle of her juices on the ground. While I stare at it in wonder, my own wetness trails down. I clench as the need in my core grows.

“Maybe you should involve yourself in this work,” he suggests.

“It does trigger me,” I say, pondering.

“You choose. But if you do it, you should take your time with her.”

When the light changes color, I decide not to overthink and go for it. I sink onto my knees before her. I stroke her hair and the side of her face. She leans into the touch. I let my fingers trail over her plump lips. They open up in invitation. I gravitate to her. My mouth grazes hers. I search for his eyes in the audience. His warm gaze gives me confidence, and I smile when I notice how much he is enjoying this.

I twirl my fingers in her blonde locks as I kiss her. Delicate at first. Her tongue finds mine, discovering. She is softer than expected. I lightly bite her bottom lip. She moves toward me as far as her restraints give room for. Her kisses become more urgent and frantic, so I back off. Her jaw clenches.

I caress her shoulders and arms, and let my nails run over her skin. Goosebumps appear on the surface, and all my focus is drawn to her nipples that peak. I cup the weight of her luscious breasts in my palms. I squeeze gently while my thumbs circle the tight tips. Her lips part as she inhales sharply. I roll her nipples between my index fingers and thumbs, turning up the pressure gradually until I reach a stingy pinch. She moans. All of a sudden I’m more aware of my own clamped nipples. I switch between soft strokes and gentle massaging to sharp pinching. She curves her body, like she wants me to have more of her. Her breathing turns deeper, as does mine. Her sounds change to silent whimpers.

“You are doing so well,” I croon.

When her skin flushes all over, I trace her body further down. Her soft belly, her curvy hips, her athletic upper legs. I’m pulled toward her dripping wet center. But I don’t want to rush and let my fingers linger on the inside of her thighs. Brushing the sensitive skin up and down, each time getting a little bit closer to her demanding, throbbing core. My pulsing need is expanding together with hers. I’ve always been an empath, subconsciously taking over others’ emotions. I didn’t know it works with horniness as well.

Like a moth to a flame, my fingers wander to her slick slit. I explore and stroke, fondle and rub until my fingers are just as wet as she is. My own respiration syncs with her panting. I draw tighter and tighter circles around her clit. I trace her entrance, never inserting my fingers completely, only teasing, making her crave more. Every time she whimpers, I retreat, slowing down and building up again, an endless cycle. My inner muscles spasm as I get equally aroused. Simultaneously, I feel his burning gaze as he absorbs me touching her.

I imagine it is only the three of us. Her on the agonizing brink of bliss, me as her tormenter, him spellbound by the scene that unfolds before him.

Light as a feather I strum her nub where so many nerve endings are bundled. A tear rolls down from under her blindfold. The red light signals me to stop. I remove my hands from her body and watch her for a moment, battling her bonds, on the harrowing verge of euphoria. Oh, how I would love to see her unravel and splinter apart after those 12 hours. But to see her like this, just a fraction away from rapture, it’s bewitching. The clock next to her reads 4:56.

His eyes are darker than usual when I walk back to him.

“Master?” I request, “Can we please go back to the hotel room?”

“What’s wrong?” he chuckles. “Don’t you like the exhibition?”

“Of course I like it, I love it! But we only have one night. I like to spend the rest of it together, just the two of us … But if you like to stay, that is also good. You can decide, obviously.”

He pulls up his eyebrows. “So it has nothing to do with the fact that you worked yourself up toying with her?”

 I blush. “Well … I am indeed very horny. But the other things I said are also true.”

 So, if I tell you, you might not get an orgasm tonight, do you still want to go back?” he questions.

“I would absolutely hate not being allowed to cum,” I pout, “but yes, I still want to go back to the hotel room.”

“Okay. Just remember that if you want to climax, you will have to earn it. You just spent half an hour pleasuring somebody else. Something I allowed you to do. And this sulking is not helping either. I think you need a reminder of your place, sub.”

Remorse washes over me. “I’m sorry, Master. I am really grateful for everything. Please, give me the chance to show you. I want to serve you tonight, in any way that you see fit. Please.”

“Let’s go,” he murmurs.

When we leave the warehouse, he suggests walking a few blocks to get some air. I’m not really wearing walking shoes, but I’ll live.

After we walk for a short time, he suddenly yanks me into an alley.

“Kneel,” he instructs.

“But there could be people around,” I protest.

He doesn’t respond and keeps his stern expression directed at me.

When I catch on that he isn’t going to deign to answer me, I quickly lower myself on my knees, eyes on the ground.

“Eyes on me,” he instructs, “Open your mouth.”

With my lips parted, I wait. He looks at me for a bit, like he’s testing me. After a moment, he unzips, and his semi-hard cock springs free.

I reach for his dick with my hand.

“Hands on your back,” he instructs. “You’ve been talking back a bit too much today for my liking. Especially with how lenient I’ve been. I have better use for that mouth. You know what to do.”

I delicately lick the tip of his cock. I swirl my tongue around it. I kiss and suck and lick some more. Just the tip. Like I’m savoring my favorite ice cream. I’m pleased as his member twitches and grows harder for me. My warm mouth envelops him. Treasuring his cock as I slide over it. With each bob of my head, I consume a little more. Glazing him in my saliva.

When he hits the back of my throat, I can’t help but gag, and I withdraw.

He grabs my hair, looks me in the eye, and tuts, “You can do better than that. We are going to try that again. You can take me deeper. I will help you get there. Your mouth is mine to use as I please. Understand?”

I nod.

“Words sub,” he demands.

“Yes, Master, I understand.”

“What color are you, sub?”

“Green, Master.”

“Okay, let’s see how far you can take me,” he says. “Put your hands on my legs. Tap if you need me to stop.” He fists my hair and pushes me slowly, but firmly, onto his cock. When he reaches the back of my throat, I can’t control my gag reflex. I tense. “Relax,” he says gently, “work through it.” He presses me further. Tears run down my face as I try to adjust as best as I can. I attempt to back away, but he holds my head in place, choking me on his length. When he withdraws, a string of spit still connects his dick to my gasping mouth.

“You take me so well,” he croaks when he invades again. He controls the rhythm while he holds me in place, facefucking his toy. I surrender to his thrusts, drool leaking into my cleavage, my own wetness sullying my thighs.

His grunts get louder, and his speed picks up. “Don’t swallow yet,” he says in a hoarse voice just before he erupts. With a guttural noise, multiple salty spurts paint my tongue. When he retracts, I open wide and show him his cum proudly. He smiles, “Good girl. Now swallow every last drop.”

After a gulp, I lick my lips clean and giggle as I wipe the slobber from my chin and my boobs as best I can.

He laughs as well, “Let’s get you cleaned up in the hotel.”

-----------

After I freshened up in the bathroom, I join him in the bedroom. He sits on the bed as I stand before him.

“Undress,” he orders. I maintain eye contact as I slide the straps of the dress of my shoulders. First I reveal my clamped breasts, then I let it fall to the floor in a puddle of fabric around my feet. He takes me in as his fingers read my body like braille. He palms my breasts. I startle as he removes the clamps. He kisses my sensitive nipples as the blood flow returns to them.

“Take off your heels.”

I position my right foot between his legs, and I can’t help but grin as I unbuckle my shoe while he watches. I switch and set my left foot very close to his already bulging crotch. Not so accidentally, I stroke him with my foot as I remove it from my shoe.

He grabs my foot and massages it for a moment. His hand travels up my calf, to my upper leg, and ends at my pussy. “Hmmm, you are so wet,” he remarks.

“I am also very horny,” I respond with a sigh.

“Your pleasure will have to wait,” he says and stops touching me, “if you get any at all. You still got a punishment waiting for you, as you might recall.”

Oh shit. I bite my bottom lip. I totally forgot about that.

“Undo my tie,” he directs.

When it is off, I present it to him. He rises from the bed, walks around me, and fastens his tie over my eyes as a blindfold.

He places me in front of the window. I feel the closed curtain against my back. He ties up one wrist and then the other. Both are spread out above my head, probably attached to the opposite sides of the curtain rod.

“Open your legs,” he commands.

Because my arms are so high up in the air, I can only open my legs a little bit if I want to keep standing on both feet.

“Wider,” he says, unyielding, “Get up on your tiptoes if that is necessary.”

I grab the ropes attached to my wrists to keep my balance on my toes as I take a broad stance. He fastens restraints at my ankles. Something is in between to keep me from closing my legs. The anticipation alone makes my heart race. I squirm to get in a more comfortable position. It is impossible, which is the point, I guess.

I yelp when a flogger collides with my breast with a loud snap. My nipples are still sore from being clamped all evening. Another hard slap lands on my other side. Oh, this hurts. The waiting between hits is maybe even worse. Not knowing when or where pain will spark. I fight my ties and shift my weight from one side to the other as he hits me again and again. My breasts are burning. Especially my nipples. This is the kind of hurt that will linger afterwards. I hiss when the flogger collides once more. I try to turn my body away from the painful smacks.

“Three more on each side,” he announces, “then I will punish your pussy.”

I take some deep breaths while I count in my head. Knowing the torture of my boobs is almost over, helps me accept the thrashing, although I whimper and flinch with every strike.

My nipples are on fire when the flogging ends. He cups my pussy with his hand. “So wet,” he notices, “your problem is your eager cunt. Always craving the next orgasm.” I hear him opening his zipper. He presses his hard cock against me and rubs it up and down. “Is this what you want?” he asks.

“Yes! Please fuck me, Master. Please. I want you. I need your cock.”

He slaps my pussy, and I breathe in sharply.

“You need to stop thinking with this.” His hand hits my cunt again, three times in rapid succession.

I sob. It hurts, but I’m so incredibly turned on at the same time. “Please, Master,” I beg.

He strokes my clit with his hard dick. “What do you want, sub?”

“I want to cum, Master, please,” I cry out.

“Wrong answer,” he dismisses me. Multiple smacks land on my smoldering core. I try to close my legs, to no avail.

“What is the purpose of a sub?” he inquires.

“To serve and please her Master,” I declare.

With his cock he smears my juices all over my cunt. “What do you want, sub?” he asks once more.

“I still want your cock so bad, Master, and I want to cum, very much, but only if it pleases you, Master,” I say pointedly.

“That’s much better; maybe you’ll learn after all.”

He removes the blindfold and says, “For today, I will gift you my orgasm. Tomorrow you may try again to serve and please me. We will see if you’ll earn your orgasm then.”

“Thank you, Master,” I say in a small voice.

He fists his cock and starts pumping it vigorously. He is standing so close. If I could just move a little bit forward, I could sink my pussy on top of it.

“Look at you,” he grins, “how soaked, open and ready you are for me. How attention-seeking your cunt is.”

My inner walls clench at hearing those words. My pussy feels so empty and hollow. Seeing him masturbate so close by makes the longing so much worse. I try to hold back the mewl that escapes me.

“Look at the red and pink with which I decorated your breasts and pussy. This work of art is only missing my signature.”

With a last powerful pump, he ejaculates in a groan. White strings spurt on my belly, cunt, and legs.

“Thank you, Master,” I sigh, “I will do better next time.”