The Contest

The crowd's excitement turned into a roar when I entered in tight leather pants, bare chest and a bullwhip. I could not keep from grinning widely as I swung the whip and let its explosive thwacks resound over the hall. The effect was electric. The whip was the signal to the disc jockey to mute the music. The audience instantly became quiet, surprisingly quiet despite the fact that I had hoped for that exact reaction. Without losing my composure, I picked up the microphone.

"Good evening! I am Mark and this is Matthew. He's in constraints. Do you know... do you know how to help him... let loose?"

Nervous smiles. Small movements.

"The poor guy is in bondage! Sweet, Valrhona bondage! Do you know how to help him?"

Murmurs. Someone shouted that chocolate is for eating.

Nervous laughter.

Chocolate is for eating.

More laughter. Bold laughter. More shouts. Excited movements. Chocolate is for eating.

"That's right, good people! Chocolate is for eating! Show poor Matthew that you care! Release him!"

The last few words almost disappeared in the excited shouts from the crowd and the sound of people moving. The response could not have been more enthusiastic. For a while I almost thought that Matthew would lose his balance due to the onslaught of the crowd. But he stood tall. And he got eaten. Men and women alike, pulled chunks of chocolate from his body, chewed at his arms and legs, licked his face. It was feeding frenzy at its worst – or rather at its best. For a moment I was able to catch Matthew's eyes and we shared the joy of success. Five minutes – ten? I don't know but before long, he was standing more or less naked with the exception of a pair of brown chocolate briefs that neither covered his behind very well nor disguised his erect penis.

I got nervous, and I observed that also Matthew had become anxious although I could not tell if it was fear of missing out on his mission – all the chocolate was supposed to be cleaned off – or if it was the realization that he was standing before over a hundred people with a boasting hard on. The tension in the hall was tangible. Everyone seemed to await the consummation of the exhibition. Who would release Matthew from his last constraints?

From a table far back, I could see someone moving towards the podium. Peter. So he was around after all. He was definitely uneasy; walked straight to Matthew and did not meet anyone's eyes. He said something I could not hear to Matthew before he grabbed his plastered balls and ripped them clean from a big chunk of hardened chocolate. He turned to the crowd and finally faced everyone and no one and gobbled on the sweet. Within seconds he hurried back to his seat.

Butt and shaft left then. I had hardly begun thinking of how to proceed until I saw a next person stand up by the same table Peter had come from. A docile, graceful, astonishingly beautiful woman had the crowd clear passage to the podium. I had never seen Magdalene quite like this. She owned the hall. She was the essence of beauty as she walked slowly towards the podium with the posture of a goddess. Without hesitation, she kneeled behind Matthew, opened her mouth, showed her teeth and bit his ass with the ferocity of a lioness. Brittle chocolate fell off in large chunks, some to the floor, some sucked into her mouth. Salaciously, she licked her lips and attacked Matthews behind yet again. She continued her feast until his ass was as white as it had been since birth. Finally, she licked one of his cheeks slowly and teasingly before she turned to the crowd, smiled wryly and walked back to her table, just as slow as she had come forward.

I fought to gather composure after the erotic act I had just witnessed, which was easier than expected as I realized that one of Matthew's limbs were still chocolate-covered. Oh yes, his member, shaft, dick, penis; his goddamned cock was still covered in Valrhona's exquisite chocolate.

My eyes swept over the audience. It was silent. Dead quiet. I snapped the whip and the smack echoed in the hall.

"Who wants the last piece?"

My voice all but broke in the microphone. A lady in the front row took a step forward but was pulled back by the man standing next to her.

"The Master's piece!"

Magdalene's voice broke the spell. The unanimous voice of more than a hundred aroused persons started chanting:

"The Master's piece! The Master's piece! The Master's piece!"

She must have arranged it. I didn't know how, but the vicious shrew must have planned it. I regretted my choice of costume – there was no way I could escape.

The show must go on.

I let the whip explode once again, dangerously close, and far closer to Matthew's naked body than I had opted for but the crowd's reaction was instant: Immediate silence. One could hear people breathing.

I walked towards Matthew, whose eyes gave witness of both fear and excitement as he realized what was about to happen. He shivered considerably and I hoped that nobody would notice that I was shaking like a leaf. How the hell did I end up in this situation?

I kneeled in front of him and with little hesitation did I chew right over his hard shaft and dug my teeth into the thick chocolate cover all the way into his cock. I felt his twitch resonating in my jawbones and realized that I had gone to my business with a bit more ferocity than I had planned. I had no expectations of what would happen but to my relief I felt the now brittle chocolate break in pieces and fall to the ground. With a tiny bit still stuck between my teeth, I turned to the crowd and chewed it thoroughly and swallowed. Finally I could breathe again. The whole thing had not created quite the emotional turmoil that I had feared.

But the crowd was still quiet. Waiting. Waiting for what? Had I not risen to the occasion and acted according to expectations?

Whispers. Fingers pointing towards Matthew's crotch.

I turned my head and observed that the crown of his cock was still neatly covered by chocolate. Only now had our work of art turned into something smooth and appetizing because what was left of the chocolate was neatly and evenly spread and made the tip of Matthew's penis look like the finest praline.

Well, appetizing... No matter the presentation, my eyes could not fool my mind. This was not a praline of my preference. I looked back at the crowd, which was once again showing increasing animation.

"The Master's piece! The Master's piece! The Master's piece!"

I swallowed, realizing the inevitable finale of the performance. What the fuck, the show must go on.

I raised my hand and waved to the audience as if to show them that I would follow their command. Then I turned again, still on my knees, towards Matthew, grabbed his hips, opened my mouth and sucked the final piece of chocolate from its compromising location. I still do not know what it felt like; I was in trance. But I was quickly enough awakened by the roaring crowd. They were screaming with arousal and joy and for a while I truly believed that we, both Matthew and I, would be attacked by over-excited people who were racing against us. But music started – blessed disc jockey – and people could get rid of adrenaline and god knows what other hormones through dancing rather than by raping us, right there at the podium.

Lights out.

Mission accomplished.

"I have never witnessed anything that was as erotic as the two of you on stage!"

We had assembled at Magdalene's again the next afternoon for reviews and distribution of the next assignment. Magdalene knew no boundaries of her excitement.

"Matthew, you are a natural model! I never would have thought... And Mark!? Have you been hiding in a closet all your life? I sincerely wished that I were a man when I saw you giving head to Matthew! And the outfit... Wow!"

She was overjoyed as she mocked us and neither of us knew what to say. Sure, we were satisfied that this, our first mission, had been accomplished successfully but the cost of humiliation was almost too dire. Fortunately, Magdalene chose not to dwell too much on the subject.

"You know that I am only kidding, don't you? I think that you were great!"

She turned her head towards Peter.

"So, it must be your turn now, mustn't it?"

Peter nodded hesitantly. Yesterday's events seemed to have shocked him even more than it had me or Matthew. Yet, he did not turn away when Magdalene showed him the two cards left.

"Pick a card!"

Peter let his fingers touch first one card, then the other; he was in agony as to which one he would choose. Finally he picked one and pulled it quickly and turned around to keep the rest of us from reading it. While Peter kept his mission in secrecy, Matthew turned to Magdalene.

"So what were our points? What's the score?"

For a fraction of a second, Magdalene looked a bit startled, but she regained her calm momentarily. I don't think either Matthew or Peter noticed.

"House rules, boys: no scores displayed in advance."

"Aww, come on..."

"Nope. All your efforts will be rated and announced on judgment day."

She laughed again and Matthew and I could not help but laugh with her. Peter, on the other hand, kept his mouth shut. He was reading his card over and over with a bewildered look on his face. Matthew poked him and urged him to tell us what was on his card. Peter started reading, stuttering at first but after a few words with increasingly steady voice, although still hesitant.

"Naked and on all fours, you will be pulled by a lady, by your balls, through a public place. You will bark at all men and attempt to ride all women but the lady that's got you leashed will act swiftly to teach you manners. Your Patron of the day will assist you with the choice of lady as well as public place."

Peter shook his head slowly and moaned from his gut. Magdalene giggled and talked to Matthew:

"Matthew, as Patron of the day, you better pat your doggie. I do believe that he could use a bit of cheering up."

Peter was not very happy with his assignment. He confided to me that he feared that Matthew, since his assignment was over and done with, would show no mercy when making preparations. I could not do much but shrug my shoulders and give a word of comfort; Peter was going to be my patron of the day on the last mission. Nevertheless, I could not help but look forward to watching Peter barking like a dog at totally strangers.

I was not disappointed. Peter barked at surprised men, grinded his bare groins at appalled women and yelped and cried like a disciplined puppy each time the lady of choice, none less than Matthew's sister, yanked the cord that was tied brutally tight around Peter's genitals. The place of choice was appropriate, albeit not very daring; a hi-so swinger party. Consequently, Peter could play his canine character to its full without much risk for any legal retribution. It was hilarious – I couldn't help from laughing out loud at several occasions. But I could not for my life see that it had the same nerve that Matthew and I had managed to produce the other night.

Nonetheless, Magdalene was overwhelming in her appraisal and if she shared even the slightest bit of my preference, she didn't show it. If anything, the opposite. I could hardly disguise my disappointment.

So. One card left. I didn't need to think about it like Peter, but took the card from Magdalene, who was radiating excitement and joy. I read the card outright.

"You will have breakfast with a Dominatrix chosen by your Patron of the day."

I sighed exorbitantly and the others laughed. I saw their anticipation: This was a good one. Sure. Good one for anyone but the victim. But I had entered the contest with my eyes open. I was determined to win the prize. Come heaven or hell or a vicious-minded she-devil, I must prevail. Peter, the Patron of the day, exclaimed that he knew a perfect little helper. He always did know all kinds of people. A phone call and it was settled. The very same night I was to be presented to Mistress Mary, collared and wearing nothing but my birthday suit.

Night fell. I undressed, got collared and Peter knocked on Mistress Mary's door. She opened, and without a word she handed a symbolic pouch of gold to Peter and he gave her my leash.

So I was sold.

The door shut behind me and I was led into a large room that looked like nothing less than a showroom for BDSM-collectables. A medieval torture chamber meets rubber and stainless steel. I was dumbfounded, which was probably just as good because the good Mistress Mary did not say a word, only tied my leash loosely to a man-high pole in the middle of the room and walked around me, carefully examining her recent purchase.

My first thought about Mistress Mary was that she was old. Lines marked her face and there were more than a few stains of grey in her long, blonde hair. Maybe she was forty five – no age to be sure – but at twenty five anything above thirty is near Neolithic. Furthermore, her stature was impressive, almost intimidating. She was athletic, her body trimmed beyond perfection. Her athletic curves were quite exposed as she wore nothing but a black leather bra with stainless steel pins pointing aggressively forward. Her hands and forearms, all the way to her elbows, where covered by black shining gloves that looked like a second skin. The curves of her sturdy hips were outlined by a black and red leather miniskirt over a pair of black fishnets. Her legs were thick and powerful and seemed almost as muscular as my own; and I'm not a skinny guy. She wore shining black shoes with mind bogglingly high heels; I was amazed as to how she kept her balance. Her voice was sharp and cold as ice:

"I am Mistress Mary. You will address me Mistress. You are nothing. You will speak only when I so command. Do you understand?"

She was behind me and I turned a bit to face her. Immediately, I heard a crack and felt a burning pain in my right ass cheek. I twitched and clenched my teeth together to avoid a cry. I suspected that she had whipped me with a riding crop.

"You will not move until I tell you to. And you will never, never eyeball me. Is this understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Another blow to on my other cheek made me jump and I couldn't speak fast enough.

"Yes, Mistress, I understand, Mistress."

"Good. Now that we are introduced, let us be swift with the formalities. You will be allowed a safe-word. One word that will end this session and send you back to your former owner. Tell me your safe-word, slut!"

Split second decision.

"Magdalene, Mistress."

It was the first word that popped up and I immediately regretted my choice. It revealed far more of my emotions for Magdalene than I would have wanted. The room was rigged with a number of video cameras and a number of red lights indicated that most of them were running. I had no doubt that at least one or two were streaming the show and allowed Magdalene and the guys would be able to see and hear everything that happened.

"So be it. Magdalene it is."

I could not see her but I suspected that she smirked.

"Kneel!"

I dropped to my knees rapidly, too rapidly since they banged against the floor so hard that they hurt. But I hardly felt it because I was almost choked by the collar. From the ring in the pole to which she had tied it, the leash was hardly long enough to reach all the way to my collar, which is why it put considerable strain on my neck. Fuck, was she trying to strangle me? Did she even know what she was doing? If the leash had been a bit shorter, I might have broken my neck. I was having second thoughts already. Magdalene had said that trust was the most important component of a D/s-relationship. Well, so far one hundred percent failure.

I gasped as she grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. The second later, lights went out as I was blindfolded by a completely opaque scarf over my eyes. I was instantaneously disoriented. Even though I tried to remember how the room was designed; where the entrance was, the position of tables that I had seen and so forth, I just could not hardly decide what was up or down.

"Lie down!"

Each time she gave her command it was like a gunshot. Sharp. Unexpected. This time I was a bit careful. My Adam's apple was still a bit sensitive after the jerk of the leash when I kneeled. Mistress Mary took my hesitation as another excuse to give me a reprimand and a she let the riding crop dance over my back. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each blow emphasized her words:

"You – are – slow!"

I lay down on the floor. Apparently she had released the leash from the pole without my noticing it because my movement was free all the way to the floor. When I had straightened out, belly down on the floor, I felt her shoe on my back, between my shoulder blades. It felt like her sharp heel would pierce right through me as she pressed me against the floor.

"I can't accept that you are slow all the time. You need a cue, something that will remind you, at all times, to answer swiftly to my demands."

Her foot was taken off my back and I heard her walk with quick steps over the room. There was noise, as if she took something out from a drawer, and then quick steps took her back.

"Keep your face to the floor but rise to your knees and point your slut ass towards me!"

I immediately obeyed her orders, although I felt terribly uneasy with assuming such an immodest position. I had never offered my ass in such a revealing way to anyone before. And it got worse. Without any delay, I felt her latex-clad hands grab my butt and I felt a hard object pressed against my sphincter. Relentless, she kept pushing the object until my muscles yielded and my internal opened up to the plug in her hand. It felt like it was going to rip me apart. After what appeared to be an eternity, the strained eased slightly and Mistress Mary let go of me. The butt plug was secured in my interior. I focused on the contest, the prize. I must prevail.

What bugged me the most was the fact that I felt blood rushing to my groins – I was having an erection. What the hell, I was not supposed to get aroused by this humiliating treatment, was I? Yet I was, albeit reluctantly. No matter what, I was terrified that Magdalene would get the wrong idea about my sexual preferences. Only briefly did I dwell on the definition of right and wrong in this context but I could not pull my thoughts together. I was overwhelmed by the situation.

I felt her standing right in front of me. My butt was still pointing to the air and the initial burning pain that the insertion of the plug had caused had now turned in to a dull ache. Now I felt the tip of her shoe under my nose.

"It'd dusty. Lick it!"

Having learnt my lesson, I didn't wait to reach out with my tongue and it quickly found her lacquer shoe. While I licked the smooth surface, I felt the caress from the riding crop over my shoulders, back and behind. I was more or less completely erect by now, but the distress was vanishing rapidly – I was getting less and less aware of the outside world. I was excited.

"Good. You seem to be able with your tongue. Are you good with your tongue, slut?"

"Yes, Mistress."

I was satisfied with having been swift enough with my answer. Admittedly I didn't know if I was very good with my tongue, but I was eager and willing. Cunnilingus has always been a dear occupation of mine. In terms of oral sex, giving usually surpasses receiving. I felt a twitch of excitement.

"Turn around! Lie on your back!"

I spun around and lied on my back with my arms along my sides. Mistress Mary expressed her unmistaken disappointment with the position and expressed it by way of putting her needle sharp heel on my chest.

"Arms straight above your head!"

I obeyed her order and stretched both arms above my head only to find Mistress Mary winding a cord around my wrists. Seconds later she pulled the cord, stretching my arms even further. Apparently, she had tied my arms to something robust, because I was quite restrained. Then she was gone. The moment before, I had felt the warmth from her body but now it seemed as though she had vanished and yet I had not heard her walk away. Being a cunning sleuth, I figured that she had taken off her stiletto heel shoes just so that she would be able to tip-toe around unnoticed.