Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  Cara’s heart did several flip-flops in sync with the lights coming one after the other as they drove through the tunnel. She closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to get her bearings as she said, “My sketches. You got that from my sketches.”

  Her eyes opened in time to see him nod. “I did. Does it turn you on, or are you upset?”

  “Oh, I’m incredibly turned on, but I’m also touched you’ve gone out of your way to make my fantasy come true. I mean, a room full of strangers who don’t know me and can’t even see my face? It’s better than I imagined.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If you’re good with that you’ll likely be okay with everything else, so I’ll surprise you with the rest of my plans. Back to the rules — slaves don’t sit on furniture. They’re sometimes draped over it to be fucked or spanked, but they don’t use it for the intended purposes. When I sit in a chair or on a sofa, pay close attention to my signals and instructions in case I want you somewhere else, but if I don’t indicate otherwise then you’ll sink to the floor to the left of my legs. Stay on your knees with legs spread, ass on your feet, arms folded into the small of your back, and tits out. If I tell you to get comfortable you can sit on your bottom with your legs curled to the side and lean on my legs.”

  * * * *

  Cara walked down the hall with her eyes on the floor, terrified she’d forget, look up, and accidently catch someone’s eye. She’d easily survived the entrance interview but now she had to make it to their room without breaking a rule before he could gag her and put her hood on.

  Her fuck-me shoes stepped one foot in front of the other in her vision, and the collar around her neck tugged gently left as Travis’ boots turned towards what she thought might be a grand staircase. The first few treads were exquisite polished marble, and after a small landing they turned right and went up hardwood steps. More feet moved into her vision, dress shoes followed by bare feet with no nail polish. She’d seen someone in ballet boots earlier and wondered how Travis would want her. In some ways it seemed more dehumanizing to be stripped of even your shoes, but naked except for fetish boots pretty much screamed you were an object to be fucked. Either way, she’d be nude in a room of fully clothed men and the idea both terrified and titillated her.

  Her feet followed Travis’ through a doorway and she stopped walking as he turned and touched her, muttering a soft, “stay.” Travis closed the door behind her before moving towards a desk, and she heard a television click onto The Weather Channel.

  “We’re alone and you can look around the room, but don’t open the curtains or peek outside. The luggage we’ll need here’s been delivered already, and our bags from the hotel will be shipped home. Let’s get the razor and shaving cream and I’ll look you over and make sure everything’s smooth.

  * * * *

  Travis had wanted to ease her into this, making it clear she’s special and not actually a slave while getting her used to the idea of total subservience as they drove. Now it was time to begin putting her further into the mindset, so he handled her methodically, positioning her in the huge empty tub to shave her legs, pussy, around her ass, and finally her armpits before rinsing with the handheld sprayer. She’d already shaved, but he went over it all anyway to be certain there were no stray hairs. She voiced the beginnings of a protest as he worked the razor around her asshole, but stopped before the first word completed.

  The mask she’d wear at dinner was in plain sight, propped on a Styrofoam head on the vanity, and Cara’s eyes were practically glued to it as he worked. The thin mesh fabric was the color of a doll’s skin with painted-on fake eyes and lips and a pert little molded nose. Ultra-short pink and blue hair decorated the top, with a few feathers placed here and there for texture.

  He smoothed his fingers over her pussy and spread the lips again, toying around her clit without touching as he said, “There’s one more rule, my dear Cara. Slaves don’t orgasm without permission, and since they can’t speak unless asked a direct question...” he shrugged and gave a lopsided smile before continuing. “If you come so only I know you’ve climaxed, I’ll handle your punishment without letting anyone know you’re being disciplined, or why. However, if another Dom realizes you’ve orgasmed, you should know the consequence will likely involve a ginger plug in your ass and pussy while you’re caned or whipped, followed by time on the fucking machine with a ginger, cinnamon, and clove laced lubricant.”

  He pushed a finger in and slowly finger-fucked her. “Lucky for you, I want to see you come again and again tonight, so I’m likely to grant permission when I see you close. Just be sure you have authorization, and if you can’t control yourself you’d better try to be circumspect. Unless you want them to punish you publicly.”

  Travis was wary of putting her in a position where she might feel obligated to accept punishment doled out by a stranger. He couldn’t get a handle on how she’d cope, and felt this was a good way to let her dictate it. She was capable of silent orgasms, so if she yelled her way through one he’d know she wanted the experience.

  He’d always shared his slaves with this group so the mere fact he’d put the white loop on her collar, making her off limits for touching without express permission, would have the membership curious. The other Doms would also assume the gags, masks, and blindfolds were because she wasn’t well trained, which would make some of them watch her like a hawk for any slip-up. It couldn’t be helped, though. He wasn’t about to set her up to fail, and she’d have trouble remaining wordless and avoiding eye contact without assistance.

  He pulled her from the tub, dried her, and had her work her hair under the bald cap before he began the tedious task of stretching the latex arm sleeves onto her, since they terminated to points and she’d lose the benefit of fingers and thumbs.

  Jacob had thoughtfully included a bottle of silicone oil with the costume, but working the tight latex over her skin still wasn’t easy. He noted Cara had gone quiet, and decided now was the time to institute vocal silence since she seemed to have dropped into the headspace for it.

  “No words from here on out Cara, not unless you need to safeword. They showed you the house safeword rhythm I’m sure, but if you want to signal so only I know you’re in trouble you can grunt or tap twice, count to three in your head, and do it again. If your mouth is free you can simply say Red if you’d rather, but you’ll be gagged most of the time.” He took a breath and said, “If any part of this weekend is hell for you and I don’t see it, you will safeword. You are not to try to survive this on my account. If you decide you no longer want to be here, tell me. We’re here to give you the experience of being property for a short time. If you hate it we’ll leave.”

  He pulled and stretched the latex covering until the last of the wrinkles were smooth, and ran his hands up her arms, resting them on her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “Once I put you on the dining room table I won’t give you permission to come, so don’t get too close. I want you horny while we eat but I promise you’ll get to orgasm until you wish you could beg for no more later tonight.”

  Travis’ cock thrummed a constant reminder and he was so hard it hurt. He wanted to turn Cara around and pound her; but he’d wait until they were downstairs in front of everyone, as she’d get more out of it with an audience. He needed to tell her one final bit before putting her mask on, and he reached for her chin, tilting her head up gently as he said, “I’ll bring you to the room a few times during the night to change your clothes or check in with you. If you want to stay in object mode then keep your hands to yourself and act like a slave. If you need a cuddle or some reassurance I still love you, lean into me or hug me. I’m counting on you to let me know what you need here, Cara Mia. Will you promise me you’ll let me know? If not then I’ll hug you and tell you how much I love you and how special you are while I have you here in private. Speak to me, slave.”

  Cara’s jaw worked and she swallowed once before saying, “I promise, Master. If I need a hug or your touch I’ll
let you know when the door closes behind us.”

  Hearing her call him Master made his cock jerk in his pants, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her but knew she didn’t need affection right now. He gave a curt nod and said, “It’s time for your mask then. You’ll note the toenail polish I had you use is the same shade as the electric blue in your hair. I’ll gradually add to your outfit as the night progresses, but for now you’ll just have the sleeves and mask.” He gave a conspiratorial grin as he said, “Waxing the peach fuzz off your arms usually isn’t a good pain, and this solves the problem.”

  Travis showed her the gag ball, slightly smaller than a ping-pong ball and made of silicone. “Open up, this goes in your mouth and rests on your tongue. It’s small enough you should be able to completely close around it, large enough it can’t get sucked into your windpipe, and it’ll hold your tongue down to keep you from talking.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The strapless gag was uncomfortable but Cara didn’t think it’d be enough to make her jaw ache, and her insides jittered as Travis turned to lift the mask from the Styrofoam head.

  Surprised at how well it molded to her head, she was relieved to discover the pert little nose was actually larger than her own and completely open below her nostrils to allow for plenty of breathing room. The mesh fabric also allowed her to pull air in through her mouth around the ball.

  The painted-on eyes blocked her vision but she could see light around them. Without her sight, her other senses kicked into high gear and her clit throbbed double-time as Travis’ agile fingers smoothed the latex at the top of her throat before fiddling with a strap under her chin, tightening it until her jaw was as closed as it would go around the ball pressing on her tongue. He tucked the strap under and fastened the built in collar at the base of the mask.

  The pressure of the collar increased briefly as he inserted a finger to test for tightness, and she felt the finger trail south and go around her right breast before spiraling in until it circled her nipple and finally stopped to tweak it. Hard. The fire inside of her had grown so it wouldn’t take much to make her come and she was simultaneously worried she’d have an orgasm without permission, and excited about the prospect of punishment if she did. As her heart raced faster, she realized she was so turned on by the fear and anticipation she’d probably have absolutely no control.

  The light spilling around the edges of the painted eyes allowed her to sense silhouettes of the furniture to her left and right, though she couldn’t make out anything in detail and saw nothing in front of her. She’d likely perceive the movement of people eating on either side while she was in the center of the table, playing the part of the candelabra.

  “Say ‘red’ for me, please.”

  She tried to use her lips to substitute for her tongue but what came out was nothing more than a grunt.

  “Try quinacridone.”

  Certainly it was her imagination, but she could almost make out the rhythm and basic idea of the word.

  “Since you aren’t allowed to talk and won’t be saying anything else, I should understand it. I’ll have you say it downstairs so the others can hear it as well. Everyone will recognize the house pattern in grunts or taps, but if the safeword comes out in a moment of panic I want people to know what it is. Now, turn around, spread your legs, and grab your ankles. It’s time to get you lubed for the evening.”

  Cara thought they were going downstairs for wax play and wasn’t sure why it was necessary to lube her ass now, but she kept her mouth shut and followed instructions. A single slick finger entered her ass and swished in and out a few times before withdrawing, and a cold baby wipe cleaned the outside.

  “Feel free to scream in pain and moan in pleasure; but don’t use words. Also, don’t try to plead with your moans. Slaves don’t make demands and that’s how begging is seen by this crowd.”

  His hand grasped her arm, helping her up as he told her to stand, and the sound of flesh striking flesh made her heart stutter a half-second before her right ass cheek erupted in heat. Cuffs were buckled onto her wrists over the latex as Travis continued to talk. “You won’t feel the restraints on the table unless you attempt to move, so don’t try. There are dozens of ten-pound arch shaped weights, and we’ll situate several over your arms and legs to keep them in place. They won’t touch you, but you’ll have around eighty pounds over each arm and a good bit more over both legs. Each arch has a small bell on top and will ring if jostled; I’d like you to do me proud and keep the bell ringing to a minimum — your arms will have a few inches of movement but your legs won’t have near as much.”

  His footsteps moved away, stopped, and returned. She yelped as fingers grabbed her right nipple and rubbed all around it. She was prepared for him to seize her other nipple when his fingers lifted, but she jerked and gasped anyway.

  “Jacob sent a stain for your nipples, which are now as red as your painted on lips.”

  She felt tissue wiping to remove the excess stain and wished he’d done it before he put the mask on so she could’ve seen how they looked.

  Cara was ready for him to take her downstairs and stop talking but she listened and nodded and tried not to fidget. Her wrists were attached behind her back and then, finally, he told her to walk with him.

  He coached her down the steps and through the house, and Cara could hear a room full of voices long before reaching them. She heard people welcoming “Dennis,” and asking who he had with him. He introduced her as slave Sarah and quipped that tonight she was his doll.

  Someone asked if he wasn’t planning to share his doll, but he only said, “At the moment I’m rock hard and plan to make use of my blow-up fuck-toy’s ass. Would anyone like to volunteer the arm of their chair?”

  Cara’s feet moved from hard surface to luxurious carpet. Hands gently bent her over a padded armchair and her upper body landed in a stranger’s clothed lap; a stiff cock pressed into her left shoulder as one of the man’s hands rested on her ass cheek and the other raised goose bumps as it caressed bare skin at the back of her neck just below the collar.

  She heard Travis tell him to keep his hands where they could be seen and she felt the head of his cock at her asshole as his fingers gripped her hips. There was no pause and no warning before he shoved into her violently, sinking to his balls in one savage plunge. Cara screamed in surprise and pain, her body instinctively trying to lift but the unknown man’s hands held her down, igniting a spontaneous orgasm as Travis barked out an order to “Come for me, Bitch.”

  He fucked her through the climax, his movements brutal, feral. A voice to her right ordered a slave to sit her ass on his cock, a casual command given with no thought of the rights or feelings of the woman he owned. Cara heard slapping sounds, as if someone were being spanked, and heard a squeal and cry of the slave she imagined had just impaled her ass on her owner’s cock. It occurred to her the room might assume Travis had taken her dry, as he’d used very little lube and had wiped all evidence on the outside away.

  Travis’ voice told someone he could “abuse the fuck-toy’s nipples,” and the hand on her back smoothed its way down her spine, around her torso, and under her body. Her left nipple exploded in pain and she sucked air in and screamed around the ball in her mouth. Travis’ thrusts grew faster and more erratic as he leaned forward and said, “Be a good little fuck-toy and come so I can feel that tight ass squeezing around my cock. My three-holed fuck-doll with matching lips and nipples, matching toes and hair, come for me. Now.”

  Her body took over and the spasms came to life deep inside and shot to her clit as it pressed into the arm of the chair and sent her entire lower torso into wave after wave of obliterating pleasure as Travis ruthlessly fucked her ass.

  When her orgasm faded she felt him pull out without coming, and hands quickly lifted and turned her. She found herself supine on the floor with her knees by her ears and his cock shoved into in her ass again. He mercilessly pumped another two dozen times as she screamed from the pain, her clim
ax taking away the edge she’d needed to enjoy it. He pulled out and grunted, and warmth splashed onto her stomach.

  She realized he didn’t want her paranoid about cum leaking from her ass, and she remembered he loved her. Cara wondered if the other slaves were loved and adored, or if they were only considered property by their Masters.

  Strong fingers worked the cum into the skin of her abdomen and breasts before she was lifted into strange arms and carried like a baby. Travis’ voice kept her panic down as she heard, “Just center her on the table and we’ll get the restraints on, and you can all hear her scream some more as I encase her in wax.”

  * * * *

  By the time the wax was removed and she was carried to the bedroom Cara was so horny she thought she’d self-combust. He’d inserted a remote control vibrating butt plug and dildo, and then turned them on and off throughout dinner as she lay motionless with the heat of the candles softening her carapace at key places as they burned on and around her. He’d put a dome over her clit before pouring the wax, and it’d felt like he’d thoroughly coated everything except her arms, mask, and clit. They’d even poked candles between some of her toes and poured wax to plaster her feet in the pose her ballet boots usually forced them. She’d heard a bell when she tried to move her foot, so they’d used one of the weighted arches to help restrain even her feet.

  Travis had oiled her first and the wax came off easily when dinner was finally over. She had no idea who carried her but he was quite strong and she wondered if she might have to give him special services later in payment. The idea turned her on and shamed her, as it almost felt like cheating on Travis — being made to do it was one thing, but wishing for it was terrible.