Her Master's Heart

by Lawrence Southwick

  The thrashing stopped when a short, pudgy man, wearing a glowing armband that said “DM” approached the pair and spoke to the girl on the cross for a moment. She responded in low tones. Whatever she said seemed to satisfy him; Robin couldn't hear what they said.

  He nodded at the older woman and walked away. The whipping resumed. Robin realized he must be a monitor, checking to make sure she’s OK.

  It’s nice to know there are people watching over us.

  Robin's breath caught as she watched the strikes become more and more vicious, leaving long red welts across the girl's shoulders, hips and buttocks. She watched as the girl began shifting her weight from one leg to the other, seemingly trying to avoid the blows.

  Wasn't anyone going to stop this?

  Robin jumped in her seat as the girl shrieked, long and loud. The woman behind her dropped the whip, moved up to press the front of her body against the girl's back. Then she plunged her hand between the girl's thighs. Her mouth hovered over the girl's ear, but Robin couldn't make out what she was saying.

  Seconds later, the girl shrieked again. This time, her body began convulsing, as she climaxed. The orgasm looked incredibly intense. It lasted a long time, the woman's spasming and moaning lasting much longer than Robin's ever had.

  As the sub visibly began to relax, Robin realized her own mouth and throat were as dry as dust.

  Jeez. I've been breathing through my mouth this whole time, probably panting loud enough for everyone around me to hear. How mortifying!

  She looked down an unclenched her fingers from around a water bottle that she'd forgotten she'd been holding. Bringing it to her lips, she took a soothing gulp. God! Her nipples were bunched in knots, and she felt dampness between her legs.

  This is such a strange experience. I'm so incredibly turned on. That scene was exciting and arousing, yet also uncomfortable to watch. Disturbing and scary, yet my body certainly responded.

  The Domme helped the girl down off of the cross, and Robin watched as the sub knelt and kissed the hand of the woman who had whipped her, apparently in gratitude.

  Oh my.

  Over the next two hours, Robin watched in utter fascination, as a series of various D/s scenes unfolded before her.

  In one scene, an older man was bound so that he was bent over a bench. Then he was spanked by a much younger girl, first with her hand, and then with a paddle. The pattern of her strikes was similar to the whipping scene on the cross. It began gently and built in intensity over time. By the end, the sub's butt was a deep red.

  Again, the recipient climaxed and showed his appreciation to the Domme for the spanking.

  A leather-clad Dom tied up his male sub and then made him suck his cock. Robin recognized the bound man as Troy, the receptionist who'd helped her with paperwork when she arrived. The sub seemed to enjoy his work, if his raging erection was any indication.

  Troy kissed his Dom's feet in gratitude when the act was complete. Although he never achieved an orgasm, he seemed happy as they left the area.

  A male Dom with a scarred face dripped hot, white wax all over the body of a naked woman. As each droplet struck her skin, she arched her back and hissed in—what? Was it pain? Was it delight? It was most likely a combination of both.

  The sub climaxed with the assistance of the Dom's mouth, hand and the melted wax. Afterward, her eyes were unfocused and spacey, she looked almost drunk. Her Dom wrapped her in a blanket and held her, crooning softly.

  It took the woman twenty minutes to recover, but she had a big smile on her face. Like the others, she thanked him at the end of the scene.

  Finally, around midnight, Robin decided to call it a night. Many scenes were still going on, but she felt as if her brain had reached full capacity. She was on edge, extremely tense and physically uncomfortable. Her legs trembled with repressed arousal as she made her way downstairs.

  She said goodbye to Lewis, and then walked out to the parking lot. Lewis's gaze bored into her, until she was locked safely in her car. She felt wonderfully protected and appreciative for Lewis' concern for her safety.

  Chapter 3.

  ROBIN

  Robin drove home from the Club with her mind in a fog. She thought about all of the things she’d seen, and her brain tried to process everything she’d witnessed. When her car pulled into the driveway of her apartment, she was startled to realize she was home.

  Blinking and stumbling a bit, she made her way to her front door, unlocked it, slammed and locked it behind her. She stood leaning against it, her breath rasping in her throat, her heart beating rapidly.

  My God, I’m more turned on now than I was at the Club!

  Abandoning any pretense of sleep, Robin practically ripped off her clothes and lay down on the still-made bed. On her back with her knees bent, pinched her nipples hard, pulling on them and relishing the sting.

  I wish someone else’s fingers were doing this to me…someone who I couldn’t stop…someone who controlled me, controlled my pleasure and pain.

  Her thoughts seemed to enhance her sensations and aroused her further. She imagined it was strong, masculine hands cupping her breasts. His fingers pulling at her nipples, pinching and hurting them, deliciously.

  A low moan burst from her mouth, past clenched teeth. Leaving her left hand to continue its ministrations on her breasts, her right hand moved lower, to touch herself between her thighs.

  Yes! Oh God, I’m soaking wet.

  She rubbed her fingers through her silky dampness and spread it all around her vulva. Her fingers roamed and explored the hard nub of her clitoris, making her gasp. Robin bent her knees more, trying to spread herself open further.

  She imagined the people she'd just seen at the Club. They were all standing around her, watching her as she pleasured herself. They stood silent, just gazing at her, watching and becoming increasingly more aroused by her actions.

  I must put on a good show for them.

  Now her left hand moved away from her breasts and joined its companion, far below, between her legs. She sighed at the immediate feeling of loss she experienced. Her nipples now lacked the pinching she'd so enjoyed.

  Damn, I need to buy some nipple clamps as soon as possible.

  With the fingers of one hand, she spread her lips open wide. Her right hand pushed fingers deep inside of her core. She stroked, massaged and stabbed at her moist, throbbing center.

  Robin’s eyes closed. She imagined it had been her on the spanking bench, tonight. That she'd been the one who'd been pleasured at the Club, rather than being a mere spectator. She imagined the sensations of cool leather on her breasts and belly, the air on her exposed flesh.

  The most tantalizing thought was she could almost feel the impacts on her raised bottom, which was exposed for everyone to see. She began to visualize a hard, flat palm coming down on her, striking her with force, leaving behind a red palm-print. That hand, descended again and again, the sound of the spanking echoed in her mind.

  Oh God, Yes! I love this! I want this!

  Robin imagined herself being bound with ropes, unable to move at all. She was totally at the mercy of a Dom, her Dom. The thought was beautiful to her, making her heart and her body throb and sing.

  Her Dom opened his leather pants to expose his raging hard cock to her. He brought it to her lips for her to pleasure him, there, in front of everyone. Her mouth watered greatly and her slit flooded more moisture onto her hands.

  Unable to resist or to stop him, she accepted what she was given. She took him into her mouth, determined to give him the finest pleasure he’d ever felt. In her mind, she could see every detail of his erect penis; she could see his beautiful, muscular body. However, his face was in shadow.

  With concentration, she could almost feel her tongue laving over him, the large head and the bulges of veins along his gorgeous erection. It felt divine. Robin could feel her lips being stretched and her mouth being plundered delightfully.

  On the bed alone, Robin’s tongue painted her l
ips with saliva, preparing to receive him. She opened her mouth wide, to accommodate the imagined welcomed intrusion. She felt her belly tighten and begin to build and coil. However, she was unable to push herself over the edge to orgasm. Her brow scrunched in frustration.

  Shit! I need to come before I die of frustration! What can I do? I need…more!

  Suddenly, Robin had an inspiring thought. She stopped what she was doing, leapt from the bed and scrounged around in a laundry basket near the bedroom door. She rummaged through her dresses, pants, tops and underwear until her fingers grazed something hard.

  Yes—clothespins—just what I need! They should work.

  Before Robin climbed back on the bed, she rummaged through the lowest drawer of the small set next to her bed. Underneath old pantyhose, cough drops and a novel she’d never finished, was what she was looking for: her vibrator.

  Oh, please let the batteries still work!

  She manipulated the small switch and was immediately rewarded for her efforts. The vibrator came to life, audibly humming and vibrating in her hand. Robin was both thrilled and relieved.

  This and the clothespins should do the trick. Damn, they better! If they don't, I'm going to have bald patches from ripping my hair out!

  Sitting on the bed, Robin went to work. She used her left hand to pull at, squeeze and twist her nipples, one at a time. She made them long and hard, preparing them to be grasped by the wooden clothespins. She gasped as she closed each pin on her tender, sensitive flesh.

  However, the biting pain quickly settled into a dull throb she enjoyed immensely. Every tug on them sent a jolt straight to her pussy. She rolled over onto the bed, this time, lying on her belly. Turning her battery-operated boyfriend on, she started it in its downward trek. First, she touched it to her tummy, then lower to the V between her legs. Robin felt the vibration hit her strongly, as if she'd received a bolt of electricity.

  Once again, her eyes closed. Robin imagined herself secured firmly to the big wooden X in the Club. She was bound by leather restraints around her wrists and ankles, which held her inexorably. She was utterly helpless and available for whatever her mystery Dom wanted to do to her. She shuddered with that thought, quickly ratcheting up her arousal.

  She thought about the whip, striking her back slowly, even gently, at first. Then the strikes begin to speed up and become harsher, leaving trails of pain across her tender flesh. Robin ground her breasts into the mattress, reveling in the rough treatment of her clamped nipples.

  She plunged the vibrator into her cleft, over and over, deeper each time. She imagined red welts decorating her body, the sounds she'd make as the whip coursed over her. Robin pulled the vibe out of her, moved it up and jammed it against her clit. Her body jolted in response to the intense sensation she felt from her clit throughout her body to the tips of her fingers and toes. She cried out.

  The powerful vibration paired with the pain from her nipples, made her crest quickly and forcefully. She quickly pushed her face into the pillow, so her shrieks of pleasure wouldn't wake up or disturb her neighbors.

  Robin’s body shuddered and jerked uncontrollably. Her legs felt as though they were rhythmically cramping. She pulled the vibe away from her clit and rolled over onto her back. Gasping a little, she was still coming down from the incredible peak she continued to enjoy.

  Robin switched the vibrator off and let the sticky thing fall to the floor with a thud. She gently removed the clothespins from her nipples, hissing at the pain as blood suddenly flowed back into them. Robin got off the bed on unsteady legs. She went to the bathroom.

  After using the toilet and cleaning herself up, Robin looked at herself in the mirror. She looked the same, but she felt very different. She smiled at her reflection, switched off the light and went back to her bed. She hoped that she'd worked off enough of her arousal she'd be able to sleep through the night.

  As she pulled the covers up over herself, Robin grinned. She was looking forward to her dreams.

  Chapter 4.

  ROBIN

  This was her fourth visit to Bottoms Up. So far, much to her disappointment, she'd only been a spectator. No one had asked to play with her. No potential partners showed her any attention.

  Heck, almost nobody has even spoken to me during my visits. I enjoy the club, but it's beginning to feel like rejection. It's just me, horny and alone. I try to keep my hopes up. I watch the scenes and get so excited, so painfully aroused. After hours of building frustration, I go home…alone. I try to satisfy myself. Sadly, certain itches—as good as they feel to be scratched—cannot be fully satisfied solo. My frustrations are more than physical. I need an outlet. I want a man...a dominant man.

  Sighing, she realized her statement about nobody talking to her wasn't accurate. Gwen had spoken to her many times. So did Lewis. However, no one else talked to her. No Doms ever seemed to look her way. No potential sex partners were on her horizon, not inside or outside of the club.

  She wondered if she was going to be as big a social pariah in the BDSM world, as she was in the vanilla world. That was a jagged pill to swallow. What was wrong with her?

  Being naturally shy, especially in this environment, probably added to the lack of interest in her. It was who she was. She was submissive and passive. That's part of why she was drawn to BDSM. She certainly wasn't comfortable approaching any guy she was attracted to or hitting on anyone.

  The thought was horrifying. Her shyness seemed like a kind of long, slow, lingering death sentence.

  Being denied an outlet after finally finding this source of like-minded potential partners at long last, seemed a cruel curse. It was her dreams of sexual fulfillment and satisfaction for which she'd yearned—an emotional and physical part of herself she'd repressed for too long.

  She'd seen and learned a lot at the club, much more than she'd ever dreamed when she first heard of it or began going. Nevertheless, she was tired of lurking and observing. She wanted to participate. It was the story of her life all over again—she wanted more than she had.

  Robin had been so proud of herself. She'd gone beyond her comfort zone and reached for the stars by seeking out and joining this club. It took so much courage for her to take those steps. She'd struggled with her own immense internal battles to get this far. She felt she deserved to have her chance to reap the benefits of her bravery.

  Sighing, she decided she just couldn't give up now. She wanted this too much. Maybe tonight would be her lucky night.

  ~~~

  ROBERT

  Robert "Bobby" Westwood stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. Why was he going out tonight? What was the point? He sighed and felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically.

  Was this what fifty was supposed to feel like?

  Morosely, he checked his appearance in the mirror. Hair loss? Check. Grey hair in his beard? Check. Jesus, he thought. Just shoot me now.

  When did all of this happen? It crept up on him so slowly. Except for fatigue, aches and pains, inside he didn't feel how he looked on the outside. He still felt like a relatively young man. Well, maybe he felt like a frustrated and lonely youngish man.

  Robert trotted down the stairs from his bedroom in the spacious house he owned. At one time, he'd hoped he'd be sharing his home with the love of his life. He'd always assumed he'd be married by now. Hell, fifty years old and still a bachelor, with no prospects of that changing any time soon.

  Things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned, or wanted.

  He thought about staying in, just watching TV and maybe drinking beer. However, Gwen had asked him to come tonight and he'd agreed. She was an old friend, and even though they'd never had a relationship outside of playing together, they were friends. As was her husband, although he wasn't active in the Lifestyle.

  Robert had known he was a Dominant since high school. His home town of Buffalo wasn't a hugely popular playground for those like himself who were interested in kink. He'd been motivated enough to have made forays to Toronto, Canada,
as well as to NYC. Once he'd learned what he liked, he took classes and became skilled.

  Over the past ten years or so, it seemed as though the local kink scene was populated entirely by kiddies. He saw many immature boys and girls with foolish, selfish ideas.

  Robert was tired of 'Twinkies', little girls who wore too much make up and not enough clothes. They acted as if they were drunk, throwing themselves at any guy. He saw them as too young and superficial, with no life experience. They didn't appeal to him in the least.

  He was a grown man who longed to meet what he considered a real woman. He wanted someone with whom he'd have much in common, a woman who had maturity, experience, character and depth.

  He sighed again, and steeled himself to his task. Picking up his wallet and keys, he headed out the door. His friend Gwen was expecting him.

  As always, the door to Bottoms Up was guarded by Lewis, bouncer extraordinaire. Standing six foot five, and massing over three hundred pounds, his muscular frame was a wonder to behold. Despite his typical grim, stern expression which could scare a Doberman up a tree, the fact he wasn't into kink sent many men's and women's teeth on edge in frustration.

  “Evening, Lewis.”

  “Good evening, Robert.”

  Lewis' smile always seemed like it might break his face, which was apparently more accustomed to scowling. It looked uncomfortable, both for Lewis to muster, as well as for Robert to endure. The big man held the door open for Robert and gestured toward the freight elevator.

  “Do you want me to call up for you?”

  Robert shook his head. “The stairs will do me good.”

  Bottoms Up was located in an old warehouse, with the third floor converted for their use. Robert went to the emergency stairs, and walked up. He opened the stairwell door and approached the small receptionist's desk. There sat a skinny girl wearing too much makeup and way too revealing clothes. The girl, who couldn't be over twenty, looked up at Robert with big calf eyes.