Secrets are Best Shared

"I, uh.. I don't" He glanced down, confused.

"Here, let me." She bent down and slid something cool and hard around his throat, locking it behind him with a tiny click that, he was sure, was audible all the way to Leadworth. He moved a hand to his throat and traced the outline of the collar, surprised at how comfortable it felt despite being tight enough to prevent it moving against his skin.

"Much better, now you're clearly marked as mine we can get started." Hers. HERS. The word shot through him and he felt any resistance he may have had, any lingering embarrassment or reservation melt away. Yes, hers, for as long as she wanted him, and he would do anything to prove himself worthy of her attentions.

She turned and walked across to the device waiting at the heart of the dungeon, the only sound the crackle of the torches and the click of her heels on the stone. She faced him, standing besides the X-frame, her eyes narrowed, a hand tapping her hip.

"Come here boy, on your hands and knees all the way"

He followed orders, crawling in supplication towards her, the cold stone seeming to freeze against his hands, every beat of his heart echoing in his ears and he'd swear he could feel every last microscopic movement his blood made as it pulsed through his body.

"Face the frame, hands up, legs spread."

Again he complied, resisting the temptation to watch her as he did so. He pressed his body tight to the frame, his feet slipping into a small gap between the frame and the floor and was rewarded with the warmth of her hands against wrists as she pulled the straps across them, binding his hands in place. More straps followed over his forearms and biceps, around his back and waist, on down his legs and finally around his ankles each one preceded by her fingers dragging over his body making him shiver and moan for more no matter if the touch was through cloth or on bare skin. When he was finally secured to her satisfaction she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"Struggle boy, try and break free." Amused now, knowing he couldn't but needing to ensure he was safely bound for her plans. He wrenched at the restraints but couldn't do more than move his fingers and toes.

"Excellent. Now we can begin your training. I want to see if you're as good as you've been boasting, push you to your limits, maybe even break them a little bit." The last was said with a sadistic chuckle that sent another shiver through his flesh and another pulse of blood to his already painful erection. "But first, and most important, you need to learn the basics. You will address me as 'Mistress' at all times while you wear that collar boy, any failure to do so from now on will be severely punished. Similarly you will only talk if I ask you a question directly. Do you understand?"

This, he knew, was the test. Everything else, everything that she could (and if he was being honest, probably would) do to him would hurt and delight but this, the mental switch to submitting to her... that was something she wanted to confirm with him. A final chance to back out if the reality was too much. He drew a deep breath: "Yes Mistress"

He almost jumped out of his skin as she whispered, so close her lips touched his ear "Good. Then we'll start slowly. Count the strokes and thank me after each one."

She stepped back and then there was silence. He stared ahead of him, resting his head slightly against the frame, wondering what this would really be like, outside of his imagination and really happening. The silence stretched and he felt his breathing become shallow, his muscles tense despite his best efforts. On and on and it was as if he'd been left there, strung up like a piece of meat, abando...

*SMACK* Her hand smashed into his arse with a force he hadn't been prepared for and he gasped out loud. Somehow, through the surprise and the stinging pain, he remembered his duty.

"One, thank you mistress"

Two more blows, quick succession right on top of the first and he could barely keep up.

"Two, thank you Mistress, Three thankyouMistress"

Another hard shot, again on top of the others and he hissed, eyes closing and not quite starting to speak before a fifth, lightning quick and light tap hit him.

"Oh dear boy, forgotten your manners so soon? Well let's see what we can do to fix that."

He'd been expecting pain, he'd been expecting... something. The lash of a whip cutting through the silk over his back, the crack of a paddle against his body even the slap of a hand against his face. What he hadn't expected was a sudden sense of chill as the cool air of the dungeon touched suddenly naked flesh, his clothing gone, vanished as if by magic leaving him hanging naked as the day he was born in his bondage. Only the cool circle of leather around his throat remanded.

"Ohhhh, much much better. You do, at least, keep yourself in good shape.It almost seems a shame to torment such wonderful flesh." She was back at his ear, the words barely more than a breath of wind that seemed to bypass any rational thought process and trigger every nerve ending in his body directly. "Now shall we try this again?"

This time there was no hesitation, the hand smacked into his naked arse immediately and once again he was surprised, in a dim and distant way, how much it hurt.

"One, thank you Mistress"

Now the blows came thick and fast but she alternated them, moving over both cheeks, light, hard, keeping him guessing but giving him enough time to respond to her between each blow. After almost two minutes she brought both hands down as hard as she could and the resulting slap echoed through the room.

"Thirty, thank you Mistress!" He almost yelled, his hips bucking first away from the blow as far as they could in his limited bondage and then back towards her as his stiff cock pressed uncomfortably against the frame.

"Well done boy, very well done. Oh, it's a shame you can't see yourself, there's such a lovely glow about you right now..." She lightly trailed her fingernails down his red skin and he hissed between his teeth at the strange mix of pain and pleasure the touch brought. "But you did learn that lesson very well... I think you've earned a little treat."

Amy walked around the frame to face him and the look on her face was quite unlike anything he'd ever seen. Still commanding but now with a wicked smile and lust dancing in her eyes. In one hand she held an unlit candle and for a horrible, wonderful moment Rory wondered where exactly she intended to put it. His fears were eased, briefly at least, when she snapped it into a holder on the ring that held the X-frame so that the candle was positioned securely parallel to the floor and pointed straight at Rory, roughly at the top of his rib cage.

"Let's make you a little more comfortable shall we?" She waved a hand over the midpoint of the X and it seemed to ripple then vanish. Somehow the frame was unaffected, a benefit of not having to obey the laws of physics he guessed from somewhere deep in the increasingly small part of his mind not consumed by desire, and she suddenly had complete access to his straining cock and balls. She lent over and waved her hand again, this time over the candle, and it immediately burst into life. It was just close enough that he could feel the warmth of the flame but for the life of him he couldn't imagine what she was planning to do with it.

"Confused?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Then let's set your mind at ease. The frame you're attached to can be rotated thanks to this ring. Of course as the candle's fixed that's going to mean it rotates too. The wax will drip down and as you turn... well, let's just say that wax is going to take some very interesting paths to the floor."

He gulped and found his eyes glued to the candle burning suddenly too close for comfort.

"Don't worry though boy, I'll give you a little extra help to distract from the pain."

With that the wheel started oh so slowly to turn. He jumped, caught by surprise despite what he'd just been told, and jumped again as suddenly a hand circled his aching cock.

"The candle will burn for five minutes, you may cum as long as it's lit." She breathed in his ear and started to work her hand up and down his shaft slowly, lightly, delicately teasing him while gauging his reaction and planning her next move. His eyes drifted closed as he was almost instantly lost in the sensations, in the sheer delight she was causing him... and so he was caught completely unawares when the first hot drop of wax landed on his foot.

He jerked from the stinging sensation and then groaned as she squeezed his manhood tightly. "Don't move away from me boy, or you really will be sorry." She whispered with a delightful undercut of menace that actually took his mind off the next three splashes of wax that landed on his ankle and lower calf respectively. The fifth hit though seemed more painful somehow and he whimpered, whimpers that became more urgent as the frame continued to rotate and the wax trailed up his leg towards his thigh. It hit him then, maybe a minute into his torment, how evil Amy had been. As the frame rotated the distance the wax fell before hitting him reduced, effectively making it warmer. The splashes were registering as heat now and as it reached his hip the frame paused allowing it to fall and splash every which way. Some drops ran back over his already sore arse and carved paths of liquid fire while others ran the other way over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. All the time she kept up a frustratingly random rhythm that kept a steady stream of pre cum flowing from him but never quite pushed far enough, her hand also shielding his prick from the pain of the wax. It was both a blessing and a curse, doubly so as she stared down at him never letting the pain he knew she must be when the wax touched her show even for a split second.

The frame started turning again and the pain grew worse with each drop. his side was coated with wax, little streamers peeling off and racing over both his back and stomach. He was writhing in his bonds but never quite pulling his hips back, they seemed to stay locked in place while every other muscle danced in delighted pain. Slowly, oh so slowly, the frame completed its rotation so that the candle was now dripping straight down onto the top of his ribs. At the same time she picked up her pace, settled down, a regular rhythm finally pushing him onwards. He forced his eye open to watch both the candle flickering in the foreground and her beautiful face behind it. As his pleasure grew the pain seemed to diminish. Just a few more seconds he though, panting openly now, just a few. more. seconds... He opened his mouth, feeling his body tense for release.

The candle went out.

Her grip immediately vanished.

He was caught in no-man's land, one touch, just ONE touch away from release but with his cock bobbing helpless in the air.

Her laughter echoed through the room. "Talk about bad timing boy.... better luck next time."

Somehow, and to Amy's eternal admiration, Rory managed to stay silent. It might have taken him literally biting his lip to manage it but not even a whimper of frustration escaped his lips. She was, she had to admit, impressed... and at the same time determined to break that silence even if it was being motivated out of desire for her. She turned and walked away from the frame and her bound toy, She was deliberate in her movements, every last moment of every flirt, every smile, even those long (and, yes, occasionally fun) nights as a kissogram coming to the fore as she turned every step into an intoxicating show for the hungry eyes that followed her. Rory couldn't have stopped looking now if he'd wanted to, not for the whole world, the whole damn universe. Her hips swayed, the heavy velvet skirt shifting and clinging to her wonderful legs, offering an ever changing hint of her curves, her whole body singing out to him, calling him to her... something the thick, heavy constant presence of the leather bonds would not allow. Her right hand reached out and trailed slowly down a rack holding crops, floggers, whips, paddles and various other correctional tools. Her fingers moved almost lazily over them all, caressing each with a sensuous, casual touch that hit his overstimulated mind like a hammer blow. Her left hand darted out and snatched something from a shelf under the rack but she blocked whatever it was with her body and as her hand came back empty, he assumed she'd rejected whatever it was. Any curiosity was immediately forgotten however as her right hand closed around a crop and pulled it slowly, oh so slowly, from the rack.

She walked back, taking her time, an evil smile darkening her face, her eyes narrowed to slits as she stalked her prey. The crop was maybe three foot long, a small loop of leather at the business end, a thin flexible black shaft and a handle covered in a diamond pattern of alternating dark blue and black leather. She raised it up, taking the head of the crop in her left and flexing the shaft, testing it and hungrily eyeing his body. Without a word, trusting him to remember her previous command to remain silent had not yet been rescinded, she walked behind him and out of view. Before he could begin to wonder what she had planned he felt the first gentle tapping of the leather on his arse, a light stingy sensation that was no worse than being flicked. His body, which had involuntarily tensed at the thought of the crop smashing into him, relaxed slightly as the crop started to move over his flesh, tapping down one cheek and on to mid thigh, back up, cutting inwards to skirt his balls the head barely disturbing the hair, back up the middle of his arse to maybe a quarter inch below his spine then repeated on the other side. It was hard enough to hurt, but no more so than a constant repeated flick of finger against flesh and he was already soaked in so much adrenaline it felt more pleasurable than anything else. Almost without realising it he gave a low purr of contentment.

The smack of the crop perfectly positioned on top of the reddest area of his backside cracked and echoed through the dungeon as did his gasp of pain. As he sucked air back into his lungs the world shifted and the rack started to rotate again, still at the same slow rate but now turning him upside-down. For the first time he had a flash of fear as he wondered whether he'd simply slide out of his restraints, or, as his medical training flashed through his mind, whether he'd dislocate joints as his weight pressed his bound limbs in directions they were never meant to go. Whether Amy sensed his concerns or whether it was just good timing he never knew but she descended on his helpless rear and thighs with a storm of blows from the crop, driving doubt from his mind and leaving only room for the rapidly growing pain.

She was brutal this time, none of the easy warm-up, as he later thought of it, that she'd given with her hand. The crop hit hard nine times out of ten, the little leather head stinging and bringing up angry red marks as she danced it over his flesh. Worse, every so often, seemingly at random, she brought the shaft down across him and that didn't sting, it burnt. Every time she did so she'd follow it up with a succession of blows with the head down the length of the mark she'd just left, making him dance in his restraints trying to escape. After maybe three minutes, with the frame about halfway through the quarter turn to vertical, she started mixing the hard blows against thighs and arse with light, delicate taps to his testicles. Each one made him jump, without fail, as he expected it to be a hard, devastating shot and got caught out with the sting. After another minute, and with his breath coming in gasps, she started tapping his balls quickly with the crop for a few seconds then he'd hear the now familiar swoosh as she pulled back for a harder swing and the shaft of the crop smashed into the curve of his arse missing his exposed balls by what felt like millimeters.

The frame finally came to rest as he was held in a perfect straight line, his head maybe a foot off the ground, but he didn't really register. The pain was still burning with every hit but now, somehow, it was as if he needed it. The sharp, pain-filled intake of breath she'd grown used to was replaced with a deep moan in the back of his throat with every stroke. Dropping the crop she ran her fingernails over his red, burning flesh, tracing every mark. He groaned and, to her surprise, arched up to meet her hands, encouraging her to press harder, to dig in slightly with her nails, scratching and sending sparks of pleasure through his abused system. His cock was sticking straight out, harder than she'd ever seen it and constantly oozing pre cum and she marveled at how he responded to her.

Moving around the frame she crouched down, wrapped a hand in his short, messy hair and pulled him up into an awkward but tender kiss, letting him know her delight with him but maintaining the spell she'd weaved. It didn't last long, she knew that she was close to loosing her own grip on self-control and didn't want to ravage him quite yet. One more thing to do... and maybe another if he agreed to her terms.

"I admit boy, I'm impressed. Apparently staying silent is easier for you than learning manners. Still, you have done very well so as a reward I will allow you to make whatever noise you wish for the remainder of our time together tonight."

"Thank you Mistress" Amy paused in shock, the voice was so thick and heavy with desire, yet so utterly submissive, it didn't even sound like the man she'd know for so many years. It sent a thrill through her that she'd never imagined she'd find in this scene and she prayed silently that he'd agree to her next challenge.

"Of course, if you forget your manners I may have to rescind that privilege" she teased, standing up and running her hands over his sides, surprised despite herself that even in this unnatural position his body still appeared lean and muscled, something few (including herself for a long time) had failed to realise about Rory. Her hands moved up and started to tease his balls, the gentlest touch just brushing the skin or disturbing his hair.

"Now, for your final trial tonight I will bend you over that bed... " A gesture and a huge four poster bed draped in silk sheets appeared in front of them "and light you up. 20 shots with the hardest paddle I have and I will not be going easy on you. I may, may mark you, consider giving you some relief at the end of it if you can stay on your feet. However... as you have been so very well behaved tonight I will give you a chance to earn much much more than just relief." She paused long enough to lean forward and, for the briefest of moments, run her tongue down his aching shaft. The sound that escaped his lips was unlike anything she'd heard in her life, low and guttural, almost animal-like and she realised that if he wasn't restrained they'd be rolling across the floor lost in mutual lust and desire at that very moment. Concentrate she reminded herself.

"This, boy, is called a zipper." Something dropped in front of his eyes and his blood ran cold as he focused on it. A line of simple wooden clothes pegs, connected by a thin string, maybe twenty pegs in all as he lost count trying to see all the way up to the end she held in her hand. "It is exceptionally painful and a most.... unpleasant experience. The pegs are attached to your flesh , trailing down, or up in your case, from the soft skin under your arms, then on through your armpits, and down your sides to your hips. If there are any spare then... well, you'd probably want to hope there weren't any spare." She laughed, cruel and magnificent in his eyes, her voice surrounding him, comforting him. "The end is tied to a fixed point directly above the frame. The frame turns, the string is pulled the chains they are attached to retract and at some point the force is enough to overcome the grip each clip has on your body and they are yanked away. Not only is it painful but the longer they are on the worse it becomes when they are removed. Do you understand how this works?"