☼ Sasha ☼

"We're here, Miss Darling." Mr Davies brought the car to a stop and peered out the windscreen. "Are you sure this is the right address?"

My eyes travelled over the building. From the literature, this was the place.

Anxiety had me squirming on the seat and I reminded myself this was what I wanted, needed. Flying across the globe, the trip, the vacation... The entire thing had been to sate a curiosity to search out that thing that was lacking.

Sexual satisfaction.

By the time I'd hit my twentieth birthday, I had dated several guys. None of whom performed well in the bedroom and had me questioning—what that's it?

Where were all the earth shattering orgasms? The shivers?

Maybe I never got any of those things because they were 'dad' approved guys. Nice guys. Kinky to them was having sex in the back seat of a limousine.

But I started to think I  was the one with problem... until Zack.

I knew what I was offering that night of my birthday because I'd seen him with one of my dad's personal assistants. A slim little brunette who barely looked a year old than me. Outside amongst the trees, I watched her cling tightly onto of the apple tree branches as he fucked mercilessly. Her eyes screwed shut and lip pinned between her teeth. She took everything he had to give her, and it looked painful.

Painful but beautiful.

His fingers were tight around her neck, his mouth to her ear, grunting. Sounds so cold and hard I felt them.

His words were pure filth.

His slams were fierce.

It sang to the dirty little slut I wanted to be.

To this day he didn't know I watched, and him saying no, only spurred me on and I read every bit of literature and blogs of people in the lifestyle.

I realised pretty fast I was a submissive, and I craved sexual dominance in the erotic sense.

And almost breaking down Zack's walls  a few days ago only cemented that fact.

However, doing it with another man hadn't been part of my plan. But he left me no choice.

So, now, here I sat, an American girl on English soil ready to step into that world. Uncertain and yeah, a little apprehension—okay, a lot. But I was also consumed by an unholy excitement that had my heart thumping and my palms slick with a cold sweat.

"Yes, Mr Davies, this is the right place."

The lines of his forehead deepened. "I'll be honest Miss. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here." Clearly, he was as anxious as me, but for different reasons. "There's an underground carpark, less that two minutes away. I will park up and wait."

"I'm sure Mrs Davies would rather have you home with her?"

Grumbling. "Mrs Davies will understand."

With a small shake of my head, I thanked him and opened the door. On the pavement, I watched Mr Davies drive off.

No turning back now.

Fetching my attention back to the building, I smoothed the non-existent wrinkles from the silver cocktail dress in a nervous gesture. My dress, with its split thigh to ankle and plunging neckline, leaving no doubts about my curves. Pining my hair up, I'd opted for the minimal look, makeup wise, letting my cherry red-lips pop.

You might have expected me to wear something in leather, or PVC, but the invitation clearly stated formal dress.

What invitation, you ask?

Knowing it may take a few attempts for Zack to come around, I had a back-up plan. Through blogs and chat-rooms I found an organisation that ran Kink parties, here in the UK. A way for a newbie to meet experienced Dom's and dip their toes into the submissive waters without having to join a club or have any training. So I'd filled out their extensive health questionnaire and non-disclosure forms and waited.

I know what you're all thinking. Crazy, right?

But this morning, when someone delivered the invite to my apartment. I took that as a sign.

Opening my purse, I pulled out the invite. Find your inner submissive.

Oh, I was ready to find her.

Highly expecting to be degraded and devoured in the search.

Walking up to the art-deco style black building with huge blacked-out windows, I knocked on the imposing metal door.

As it opened. Don't go in... my annoying brain chided, but I ignored her.

A man in a sharp black suit scanned the code on my invitation. And confirming my details, He asked for my wrist where he fastened on a pretty silver bracelet with three keys. I remembered I could offer the keys to someone with whom I might want to have a private scene.

Another man then ushered me down a long, barely lit hallway. I would have been even more nervous if not for stepping inside a huge open space and met with a sight that had my jaw dropping and my breath sputtering. They had converted the huge open space into what I could only describe as a mediaeval scene. The walls and the floor were black, with actual torches lighting up the corners, casting an eerie glow across the room. How they got that past health and safety was anyone's guess.

Clothes were also optional, apparently, leaving me feeling a little overdressed.

A server approached me and offered me a glass of champagne, which I happily accepted, drinking it down in an unladylike two gulps. I couldn't stop watching the ongoing debauchery. A woman hung from the ceiling, being whipped and pleasured by two men. I grabbed another drink it followed the first down. The burn of the alcohol lit a fire in a slow, fiery path down my throat, but the nervous pit of my stomach quickly doused it. I exchanged my empty glass for a third.

Feeling braver with the buzz of alcohol warming my cheeks and drunk from the overload of sexual pheromones. I dropped the empty glass onto the servers' tray and made my way around the room.

Trust me, reading and seeing sexual inhibition tossed to the wind was a very different ballgame. Not ten steps in, a shiver inducing moan had my head turning.

A glory hole offered a curvy woman's naked ass and bare thighs. Her upper body was hid behind a partition of sorts and on this side, a naked man and woman with a huge strap-on dildo took turns raining down handprints on her already pink cheeks. A few more swats and then the woman with the strap-on moved into position and impaled her ass whilst the man stroked his cock, watching.

A silent giggle followed by a sharp zap of lust hit me in all the right places and my knees trembled at the sight.

Wanting to shift closer, a man blocked my view. Now when I say man, I meant to say the house of muscle and intimation wearing black from head to toe. My ears pricked to a rumble coming from his chest. With his olive skin, black hair, and intense dark eyes, he was undeniably good-looking.

Did he induce any shivers? Nope. But I wasn't looking for more than a one-time thing.

He said something in a language I didn't understand—Arabic, maybe? Then asked me in English. "What is your name?" His accent was thick, and dare I think it a little sexy?

"Sasha," I answered and added, "Sir."

"This is your first time, yes?"

Colour stained my cheeks. "That obvious, huh?"

"And you are American, are you not?"

I answered with the same reply and he smiled, the lines deepening around his eyes. At a guess I would nail his age around the late thirties, early forties?

"Come, Sasha," he led me toward a couch and sat down and when I tried to sit next to him, he pulled me onto his lap, sideways.

"Where are you from?" I asked, hoping to get to know the man whose lap I now occupied.

"Morocco."

Interesting. "May I ask your name?"

"Abdelkabir, but you may call me Addi," he offered freely as his dark eyes studied me intently. "You are the most beautiful woman in the room," he said, and yeah, it might be a line but he seemed genuine.

And he didn't stop there.

"If you were mine..." Drawing his finger along my bare arm, lowering his voice to a low, throaty rasp. "I would never let you attend a party like this. You would be too precious for me to hand off to any man or woman who took a fancy to you. No. You would be mine alone. You would know your worth because I would shower you with love and attention."

What!? Was he serious?

Pulling me closer. "You come here in search of your Master, yes?"

I wasn't interested in a master slash slave dynamic. Opening my mouth, he raised his hand and placed a finger over my mouth and continued.

"You want to be the subject, not the object. You want to submit and be controlled. Both claimed and adored by a man who has the courage to harness your fiery spirit and take possession of your body, heart and soul."

Okaaay...  I wanted to make fun of his cheesy speech, but he was right about submitting to someone, well not someone, hopefully Zack if he took the huge chip off his shoulder. Lowering my gaze, I tried to put my thoughts in words as this was the first time talking to someone in person.

Addi's finger moved beneath my chin and raised it, forcing me to look at him. "I sense a potential in you ripe for exploitation. Let me show you what it is to truly submit to a real Master. No games. No pretence. Stripped bare and completely exposed. It's what you need. I knew it the minute I saw you."

He nodded his head thoughtfully. "I know we do not know each other well." How about not at all? "Not in the traditional way of exchanging life stories and making endless small talk." His thumb moved to swipe across my bottom lip. "I know how to break you down and rebuild you into the perfect submissive."

Who the hell was this guy? I didn't want to be broken down or rebuilt—or whatever other crazy stuff he was saying.

Yet... as my mind recoiled, my body responded. My nipples chafed the silk of my dress and there was no missing the heartbeat between my thighs.

What would it be like to submit to this man... for an hour, at least?

True, he was no Zack, but...

"Stand for me, Sasha."

Without thinking, I hopped off his lap, and he rose to tower over me. In six-inch heels, he was still head and shoulders above me.

"Let me show you a glimpse of what I speak, yes?"

I stood there, aware the champagne had gone to my head and when he moved and his lips slanted over mine, I froze. Undeterred, he pressed the tip of his tongue between them and I let him in and shut my eyes.

Damn. The man could kiss.

Crushing my breasts against his hard body. His arms came tight around me and I could barely catch a breath. When he finally let me go, I stumbled back. His big hands circled my waist and steadied me.

Easing back, his eyes lit up with amusement, but then something hard in them had me stepping back.

Not put out by me putting space between us. He closed the distance. "Scene with me, in private. Let me open your eyes. Not the playacting games many of these men would put you through for their own titillation and amusement. I'm talking real submission. Giving yourself to me. The ultimate exchange of power. Do you have the courage, Sasha? Do you dare?"

That annoying voice in my head screamed, walk, no run.

But wasn't that what I wanted? Why I'd come here tonight, to experience it for myself?

Whilst my opposing thoughts argued it out, his hand slipped slipped inside my plunging neckline to graze my breast and run his thumb over my nipple.

Holy fuck.

And I swayed, feeling almost lightheaded.

Was this that submissive space I'd read about?

I was both thrilled, and a little terrified... and when he pinched my nipple, leaning in to press his warm lips to the shell of my ear and whispered. "I already own you, Sasha. Now it's up to you what you do with it."

Removing his hand, he reached for mine and entwined our fingers. "Come!" he ordered, and I simply followed.

"Am I supposed to give you one of these keys?" I lifted my wrist.

"No," he answered, opening a door to lead me inside. Addi diverted to the side where he removed his suit jacket and removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves.

Looking around the space, it was a smaller version of the one downstairs, without the torches. There was a bed in the centre with red silk sheets. A spanking bench in one corner and along the wall, taking up most of it, was a rack of some sort.

My eyes went wide. I'd seen nothing like it. It looked like a ladder that had been moulded into one enormous rectangular shape. Made from two-by-fours and stood perhaps seven feet tall, one foot wide, and maybe six long. They chained it to the ceiling, probably for support.

"This is one I designed myself. Moving to stand behind me, he ran his finger over my the dress, tracing a line over my curves before coming around to cup my breasts. "Remove your dress before I tear it from your body."

I shivered and slowly turned. I had mentally prepared to strip naked and slipped off my dress and placed it in his offered hands. I hadn't worn any underwear as I stood before him in only my heels.

Addi seemed pleased as he walked around me, tossing my dress aside, murmuring in Arabic.

Coming around front, he gripped me by the throat but then slipped his hand lower, between my breasts, over my tummy, down to my bare pussy. I sucked in a breath when his finger slipped inside me.

"Wet for me," he announced.

Well, duh. I wanted to say, but kept that to myself.

"Of course you are. Because you're a slut." His eyes narrowed. "You're a dirty little slut who needs to be taken firmly in hand." I flushed at his crude words but couldn't deny the thrill of them. He added another finger and commanded. "You will call me Master."

I had to subdue a bubble of giggles before they escaped. "Do you need my safe word..." and I tried it out for size. "Master?"

He head jerked back, offended by my question. "As your master I know your limits."

My mouth gaped open. That wasn't how it was done.

"Do you know how to present yourself?" he asked stunting my indignation.

"You mean on my knees?"

He nodded once.

I could do that. I slipped out of my shoes and sank to my knees and rested back on my heels, my head bowed, my hands palm up on her thighs.

"Show me your cunt," he barked out his authority and yeah, I liked it.

Spreading my knees and lifting my hips, I arched forward so he could drink in the sight. 

He hummed his approval and said. "You are to give yourself one hundred percent to me."

This time when he smiled, it didn't reflect in his eyes and another tiny whisper of warning sounded in my head.

"You may rise, Sasha."

On my feet, he gestured with his hand. "Take your position on the rack."

I bit my bottom lip. I'd hoped he would have wanted to start easy.

He saw my hesitation.

"We can end this now, Sasha. If you are not prepared to submit."

Quit being a wuss. I was here to experience it all. Not flunk out at the first challenge. I licked over my lips. "No. I do."

I should have run then. Listened to that niggling whisper in my head instead of the raging heat in my pussy. I walked right up to the scary setup and lifted my arms into position above my head. Addi secured my wrists close together on two centre rungs.

Next he clipped a thick bracelet over my ankles and, moving behind me, in one deft movement, he lifted me. Supporting me in one muscular arm, he yanked my right leg up and outward, attaching the clip of the ankle bracelet to a rung on the far top side of the rack.

This was not comfortable.

My heart pounded and not in a good way and I tugged against the restraints. "Addi..."

He cut me off. "Master!" he corrected with a snarl.

I swallowed hard as shivers ghosted my skin with rising dread. "I want to get down!"

He ignored me and grabbed my left leg and secured my other ankle so it hung me from both wrists and ankles and legs spread wide, hanging like some kind of sacrificial offering.

Starting to panic. "I can't do this." My voice shook. "Please, let me down." My ankles and wrists were hurting, and it was really awkward having my legs spread so wide. "Are you hearing me?"

Addi dipped into his trouser pocket and pulled out a white cloth or maybe a handkerchief. Gripping my chin tightly, he forced my mouth open and stuffed it in.

"Better." He reached up to the clips holding up my hair and pulled them out one by one, tossing them aside to let my hair tumble.

I breathed through my nose, trying to free my head from his firm grasp. His voice hardened. "You're fine. Stop snivelling like a coward. Show me your courage."

When I got down from here, I'd show his balls some courage.

He turned away from me and walked toward the bed and from underneath he yanked out a bag. My body tensed when delved inside and pulled out a riding crop.

Oh god.

I'd expected to start easy, maybe a hand and then try the flogger, or a paddle. I'd seen video's of Doms using riding crops. It bordered on sadistic. I was on board with a little erotic pain, but a masochist I was not.

He walked back to me with a deviant smirk curling his lip. "It is bad. I have to gag you. I would have liked to enjoy your screams."

Closer, he lifted his hand to cup my cheek. "But your tears will have to be enough."

Motherfucker.

My forehead pinched as I tried to talk, but the gag muffled my words.

His hand pulled back, and he slapped my cheek. Hard.

The sting was enough to stop me from struggling.

I had been so fucking stupid ignoring my gut and every red flag and now I was trapped, alone in a room with a psychopath.

"You need this. And as your Master, I will give you what you need."

He drew back his hand and I tried to prepare for what was coming but the thwap of the crop on my breast had me pulling in a sharp breath through my nose and my eyes watered from the pain.

He swung again as I tried to twist away from the impact...which this time landed across my stomach.

I hissed through the cloth.

This was not how I pictured my first experience. Hoping he could see the real fear in my eyes, his unblinking stare was unsettling. "You stupid little American slut. You should be grateful I waste my time with you. You should beg me for my punishment."

Breathing harder, I didn't want to cry for this bastard... but as the crop landed square on my spread pussy.

The first tear fell.