Fantasies Come True

This story by babalon is used on the Old Tom Archive with permission.

hi sweetie -

we went to a great party last night -

it was at a gay couple’s house — lead­ers of the men’s leather com­mu­nity here in the cities. it was a fund raiser for the Inter­na­tional Fan­tasy Week­end and they have a huge awe­some house. it’s kinda like ours only big­ger with an attic dun­geon that’s out­fit­ted with all sorts of fun sta­tions. because of the fund raiser it was being pro­moted to the pan­sex­ual crowd and we showed up and well, showed ‘em how it’s done.

Mas­ter and i got there about 11 and went straight upstairs to the third floor dun­geon (he didn’t even stop to get a *beer*), and he cuffed me to the xframe and pro­ceeded to flog and whip me into bliss.

he used the sin­gle­tail on me till i was near tears. which is pretty rare — i have yet to be brought to tears in a scene, but he was get­ting awfully close. i was so proud of myself for not call­ing yel­low — i wanted to take it for him. it hurt so bad some­times, but it was so won­der­ful at the same time, just to feel his whip cut­ting into my skin, leav­ing a trail of fire and sharp white pain. i wanted to feel blood drip­ping down my legs, i half expected to feel blood from him work­ing on my thighs, but it wasn’t quite that far.… although today i have a few seri­ously nice marks — one a welt around a blood blis­ter that’s on my butt, sur­rounded by a bruise. it’s just awe­some. i love it.

after he took me down and brought me down, i went off to fetch a beer for him. we watched some other scenes, then he got into a scene with a sweet skinny girl he bor­rows some­times, and i went off to do my dm shift. (Ms MN Leather asked me to split her shift with her — DMing the women’s only room that they had set up — i did for an hour but they had very few girls using the room. the only time it was actu­ally used was as over­flow when the girls got tired of the close quar­ters up on third.)

Mas­ter then took me back upstairs and bent me over a board to pad­dle me for some, er, errors i had made. once that was out of the way, he put me into one of the slings they had. he attached a tens unit to my crotch, turned it on and pro­ceeded to flog my tits and cunt and ass. i started cum­ming and didn’t quit for about an hour. the whip would land and i would go off again. i half climbed out of that sling more times than i could count.

then he took the ‘trodes off and started in on me — he used the back of his hand on my per­ineum, start­ing with short hard whacks, then turned his wrist and started punch­ing me with his fist. i was squirm­ing and arch­ing my back to get closer to him, i wanted his hand inside me so bad, but it was so good to feel what he was doing to me — i just wen higher and higher. at one point he stopped and loos­ened my col­lar — appar­ently with all the excite­ment my neck had swelled (which hap­pens) and my col­lar was too tight. he was going to stop — but i begged him not too. “see, i’m coher­ent and talk­ing and every­thing, pleeeeeze don’t stop. please Mas­ter.” he decided to con­tinue. i was wear­ing a leather har­ness, with a two-​​inch wide dou­ble thick­ness sewed strap across the crotch (just enough to be legal) and i was cum­ming so much that i soaked thru the leather.

at one point i opened my eyes to see him prepar­ing to strike — judg­ing his blow — the look of inten­sity on his face and the move­ment of his body as he hit totally blew me away. just think­ing of it now brings me close to orgasm. he was mag­nif­i­cent. intent, com­pletely in charge, pow­er­ful, sadis­tic, beau­ti­ful, <moan> oh, my friend, if you could have seen him…

if i hadn’t been lying in a sling, i would have fallen to my knees at his feet in wor­ship. he knows just exactly how to use his hands to cause the per­fect amount of pain with­out dam­age, to strike just the right place to send vibra­tions through my entire being, and i lose myself in the sen­sa­tion — growl­ing and moan­ing and writhing and hump­ing the air, beg­ging for him to do it again, as hard as he wants as fast as he wants. at that point he could do any­thing he wanted to me and i would beg him to do it if only it pleases him.

once in a while he would come to my side and take my pulse to make sure i wasn’t in dan­ger of hurt­ing myself. then he would take my by the hair and i would go off again, just feel­ing his power wash over me, through me, pos­sess­ing my body and my will until all i can do is respond to his touch throw­ing my body and my soul into respond­ing, into danc­ing in pain and ecstasy for his plea­sure. oh Mas­ter i adore you i wor­ship you. all thought and fear and cri­tique and judge­ment and obser­va­tion and back­ground noise is gone and all that is left is the core, the com­pletely right-​​here-​​now me, the ani­mal in heat, com­pletely at his mercy, his pet, his pos­ses­sion, his toy, with no thought for any­thing, sim­ply a body react­ing to his touch, to his mas­ter­ful touch. does a stradi­var­ius feel this ecstasy in the hands of a Mas­ter? does the instru­ment thrill to the pre­cise touch that brings singing shud­der­ing music from her whole being? i am his instru­ment, and he is Mas­ter, and i sing and dance at his com­mand, at the com­mand of his touch, the com­mand of his voice, the com­mand of his power.

—

ah, the joy of being Master’s slave. but, i must sign off now. duty calls…

*babalon*

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