The Contest

The joy of being right was diminished by the fact that I was. Suddenly my leg twitched and a fraction of a second later I realized that my foot had been tickled by something light and soft, I settled for a soft paint brush. A second later I felt the crop coming down on my thigh and heard the sharp voice of my Mistress.

"I did not tell you to move!"

It tickled again, this time under my arm and there was no way I could keep myself from twitching. Again the crop exploded, this time on my belly and according to me, much too close to my private parts.

"I said lie still! Or else I will need to be less gentle. You seem to enjoy this way too much."

The last few words were uttered with a wickedly sarcastic voice and I trembled as I felt the riding crop stroke my throbbing cock, from the balls to the crown and back. She did not realize her ghoulish threat to hit me harder but the next couple of minutes were a formidable barrage of tickles and swats, of which the former were a greater torment for me than the latter. I simply cannot stand being tickled. To no surprise she noticed, which is why the evil witch let the tickles become increasingly intense and longer each time. After a while; I must have received a day's duty of soft brush tickling and crop whipping for any man; she calmed down and backed off. My whole body ached by now but I was still hard as a rock, which seemed to give Mistress Mary a bit of pleasure. She let her bare feet trample around my crotch and, to my surprise, rather carefully stroke my balls and shaft for quite some time.

"Oh yes, I believe that you are a real pain slut... you really seem to enjoy this."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Now I want you to prove your ability with your tongue."

She straddled me – I could feel legs on either side of my chest and smell the leather from her skirt. I could hear and feel her move right above my face. By now I was extremely aroused and I could hardly await her next move. Wise from previous mistakes, nevertheless, I didn't move.

"Stretch out your tongue, slut, and keep it stiff!"

I did the best I could, but I obviously did not get it right. Believe me, stretching a tongue straight up, in particular when you're blindfolded isn't quite as easy as it might seem. She grabbed my hair and jerked my head back.

"Stretch it, slut!"

I tried again and apparently I got it right this time, or at least better because she released her grip of my hair and instead started pulling in her garments; I heard the noise. At last, I thought, finally I will feel the taste of woman on my lips. I could smell the arousing scent of her moist pussy as I felt her lowering her hips over me. When I finally sensed her, nevertheless, I could immediately tell that it was not her pussy, but her tight puckered hole that was pushing my tongue. I twitched from excitement as much as arousal but I guess Mistress Mary misinterpreted my movement as disobedience because she immediately swatted the crop. This time I cried out loud because she hit me right over my testicles. Fortunately, she had not given much force to the thrashing so I managed to lie reasonably still despite the throbbing pain.

"Tongue!"

Her voice confessed no remorse and I stretched out my tongue against her waiting ass. She squatted so that her hips were almost touching me. Humid warmth radiated from her pussy and I felt confusingly proud over the fact that she had become aroused as well. She moved her pelvis in small circular movements, making her puckered hole grind against my rigid tongue. I felt the situation peculiarly exciting. Then she stopped and lowered even further so that her lower parts pressed against my face. A bit harder and I would not be able to breathe.

"Now lick me, slut! Lick my ass for me!"

Eagerly, I obeyed and let my tongue swirl around her anus, trying to maximize the amount of saliva to make the touch as smooth as possible. I alternated in licking her flat-tongued in slow sweeps, letting my tongue flutter lightly and rapidly and finally poking her tight hole with the tip of my tongue. I could tell that she appreciated what I was doing. Initially rigid and quite stiff above me, she started to wiggle her bottom and grind against my face. Her movements became increasingly wild and I would occasionally feel my tongue sweep over her drenched slit, its sweet taste driving me wild with arousal. Finally, she grabbed my head with her both hands and pulled me against her, pressing my face hard against her pussy. I sucked her clit into my mouth and let my tongue flicker over it feverishly. Mistress Mary was moaning uncontrollably now, not quite meeting expectations of a stern dominatrix. Seconds later, I felt a gush of warm liquid splash over my lips and the out of control Mistress screamed in orgasmic ecstasy.

It went quiet. The sound of my panting was dominating the room. I could hear sporadic noises from her tip-toeing around but she said nothing. No orders. No swats. Nothing. After a little while I began to feel anxious. Although my erection had calmed down somewhat I was still excited, even frustrated. I felt a terrible urge to fuck, cum and release all tension. And to get that fucking butt plug out of my ass; my whole bottom felt numb.

Slowly, hopefully quite casually, I moved my legs, hoping that a little sound would create some action from my Mistress. But it wasn't until I dared to clear my throat, very silently, that I heard a scratching noise that revealed to me that she was still present in the room and actually walking in my direction.

"You were adequate in your performance, slut!"

Bullshit! I was great!

"But you must learn to keep still. You need more discipline, don't you?"

I was growing weary of this routine by now. Mistress Mary's creativity seemed to have reached a limit. How the hell was I supposed to live through this woman's treatment until morning? It couldn't have passed more than an hour, maybe two. She moved over my head and I felt that the cord that tied my arms to the floor was released. Also the ropes around my wrists loosened a bit, but I was careful not to make any exaggerated movements; it felt rather good when blood rushed into my hands – they had started to get awfully cold.

"Stand up!"

This time she did not wait for me to fail, but whipped me instantly; not with the riding crop but some kind of rather smooth flogger of several tails. It produced a thud on my chest and hardly bit at all as the crop had done. Nevertheless, I rose to my feet, slowly, as I had a bit of a problem to keep my balance. I felt her jerk the cord that was tied to the rope around my hands and she pulled me over the floor. I noticed, by now, that the world was not as pitch dark as it had been moments ago and realized that Mistress Mary must have displaced the blindfold when she had grinded my face with her bottom. I was actually able to see the room with one of my eyes, albeit very fuzzy as the fabric of the blindfold still mostly covered my eye. I realized that she was leading me to a full size St. Andrew's cross made of sturdy timber. There were metal grey shackles fastened at each end of the x-shaped construction. Right next to the cross was a knee-high, rather slim basket, which was of greater concern to me than the cross. From the basket, long plumes of ostrich feathers shivered. Tickle time again!

It is funny how the different human senses are synchronized and seem to assist each other. I guess that this is evolutionary beneficial. When the caveman burnt his fingers on fire and later saw fire, he could remember the burning pain and stay away from the fire. The howling of wolves would remind him that his arm was bitten off the other week. And so on, and so forth. You understand what I mean.

I had learnt just how bad I respond to tickling. I had also, with growing frustration, learnt to distrust my Mistress. She simply did not seem in total control of every bit of the situation, which I think any slave should have the right to expect. Consequently, it was with horror that I imagined being more or less immobile on the cross while this vicious woman had her way with the feathers and god knows what else.

I am not particularly proud of it (although the result proved spectacular) but I panicked. In my mind, I went through every option I could think of and finally come to my one and only conclusion. It would by all certainty reduce my shot at the title with Magdalene to nil, which I felt very sorry about, but right now this was a minor concern. I focused on survival.

Mistress Mary reached the cross and pulled me so I was standing right in front of and facing it. She examined me carefully and for a short while I feared that she had noticed that the blindfold had slipped, but she seemed more interested in the shining red marks that covered most of my body, as well as my cock, semi-erect and its tip shining of pre-cum. She took my hands and started to untie my wrists, which was reasonably swiftly done since the knots had already loosened earlier. She raised an eyebrow just as if she was suspicious of me having anything to do with it. Apparently she decided not and she pulled my right arm upwards, to the side, towards the intended shackle. She planned to tie me facing the cross.

This was the opportunity. A foul one I'm sure, and it probably breaks any codex concerning the relation between a dominatrix and her slave, or any D/s-relationship for that matter. But it seemed absolutely, uncompromisingly right at the moment.

She was not aware of it but she was in a rather vulnerable position since she was almost squeezed between me and the cross. Had my blindfold been appropriately tight, she would have been quite safe, but now, it was not. I only needed to take one step forward, and I would pin her against the cross with my body and since she already stretched her hands, pulling mine, towards the shackle, she was dangerously close should a slight misunderstanding occur.

Of course, it was no misunderstanding. I thrust forward, aggressively, and pushed her against the cross with the full weight of my body. Simultaneously I released from the grip of her hands and gripped her left hand with my right and shoved it into place in the shackle. I was amazed by her strength and I feared that I had bit off more than I could chew. Nevertheless, before she had had time to react, I had closed the shackle and secured the hook that would keep it locked.

Only now did she respond. Furiously. Screaming, she thrust her free hand towards my face, aiming her claws at my eyes. By least possible margin, I managed to catch her wrist with my hands and moments later I had shackled also her right hand, however not without having to sacrifice my shoulder to her teeth, which gave witness of considerable vigor as they dug into my flesh. I pulled back in time to avoid her knee which was thrust forward, aimed for my crotch.

"You son of a bitch! Release me immediately, slut! I order you!"

Her voice was frantic and the alarm was deafening. She kicked at me but I was wise enough to keep out of range while I caught my breath after the tougher than expected wrestling with not so meek Mistress Mary. Nevertheless, I wanted to secure also her feet. This was imperative to the plan that had begun to shape in my head, the first part of which, no doubt, was to release my butt from the intrusion of the painful plug. The relief was sensational and I could not but take the greatest pleasure in my sudden freedom for a minute before I turned my attention back to the awe stricken Mary, who had witnessed my near-surgical procedure with great interest. Her calmness vanished, nevertheless, when I started to dance around her, teasing her, and listened to her insults until I quickly dove behind her and tied my blindfold around her head instead of mine. It took a couple of daring attempts but finally it seemed as though she was as blind as I had been. This was confirmed by the fact that her movements became less agile and she was having notable problems in keeping her balance when she tried to kick me. Having her blindfolded made it quite easy to snare her legs and soon enough also her feet were secured to the cross.

"This is not how it is supposed to be! This was not part of the deal!"

"The deal has changed, if you haven't noticed. Have you ever played switch?"

No answer.

"Well, you remember the safe word, don't you? All you need is to whisper..."

"NOOOOO!!!"

Her resent shocked me. She was furious, that was clear. She would hurt me if she could, I was certain. But most of all, she was angry with herself for having let down her guard. Ok, so I had played it foul, I could admit that; but she had been sloppy. And she knew it. She was much too proud to show weakness and drop out. Who knows, maybe she even looked forward to it? I know I did.

"So, I believe that we understand each other."

I could almost touch her hatred. But she nodded.

"I believe that you have misunderstood my name, slut. It is Master. Do you understand?"

"Yes... Master..."

She hesitated, but she got it right, which was fortunate because I suddenly realized that I currently had no means to reciprocate her frisk handling of the whip when I had been the one not responding quickly enough. I gazed over the room to gain inspiration and assemble my thoughts. After a short while, I picked a thin black cane down from the wall. It was tremendously flexible; high-grade glass fiber. Beautiful. A mere twitch of my wrist would be sufficient to create a sharp and stinging pain in any part of her body I would choose as target. Force would break the skin very easily; I took a mental note to avoid that. My hope was to avoid the cane altogether; there are so many more interesting things to do to a tied down woman. Nevertheless, I swung the cane vividly through the air with the sole purpose of letting her listen to it. When I saw her freeze at the hissing sound, I could not help but to smile wryly.

Mary looked sexy, she did. My first impression of her had been that she was old. She was older than me, that was for sure, but she did look sexy. So different from any woman, or any girl, that I had ever encountered in any similar position. She was sturdy but by no means fat; on the contrary, her abdominal muscles were more outlined than I had ever seen on a woman. But she was strong, muscular; I almost giggled when I realized that she resembled a powerful Eastern European javelin thrower, only with better make up and sexier outfit. Every time she fought the shackles, her muscles moved seductively under her skin. I realized that once again that I boasted a terrific hard on.

"I believe that we have an appointment that lasts until breakfast. Don't we, slut?"

"Yes, Master."

"That gives us several hours to play. You do want to play, don't you, slut?"

She grinded her teeth.

"Yes, Master."

"Goodie! We'll have so much fun together."

I took immense pleasure in mocking her.

"Sing for me, slut!"

Despite that her blindfold hid the expression of her eyes, I could tell that she was astonished. I gave her a tiny swat with the cane over her front thighs, which made her utter a high-pitched moan despite the limited force used.

"What would you like me to sing, Master?"

I gave her yet another touch by the cane; this time she twitched but she didn't make a sound.

"I do not believe that I asked you to sing a specific song, I want you to sing a song that you believe is appropriate for this occasion. You do know how to sing, don't you, slut?"

"Yes, Master."

Each time she said "Yes, Master" she sounded like Count Dracula's stooge Renfield and the sex appeal was about as limited. I wondered if I should demand a different addressing but my line of thinking was interrupted by her voice. It was, in fact, more melodious than I had expected. But the song was nothing at all as I would have expected. It sounded like something scribbled down on a tablecloth at three o' clock in the morning at some student fraternity beer fest. The waltz started:

"The first time I saw you my dear Isabelle

A feast for my eyes, sweet mademoiselle

Enchanting us all with your outstanding charm

We were standing in line just to lend you and arm

Sweet Isabelle, you are the girl of my life

Sweet Isabelle, please marry me be my wife

What would life offer more,

if you bring me to shore,

Sweet Isabelle?

With right of a captain I mounted you first

But called for the boys to come quench their thirst

We worked you all over from morning 'til night

You took us all in to our collective delight

Sweet Isabelle, you are the girl of my life

Sweet Isabelle, please marry me be my wife

We'll endure next world war

if you offer hardcore

Sweet Isabelle

We learnt pretty soon the position preferred:

the tighter the ropes, the less you demurred

When the going got tough it took several men

to batten all hatches again and again

Sweet Isabelle, you are the girl of my life

Sweet Isabelle, please marry me be my wife

A mouse on the floor

Give me pussy galore,

Sweet Isabelle

Years took their toll and your hull withered down

Imploring attention and dropping your gown

'This lassie' the sailors all had to confess

'won't satisfy even a man in distress'

Sweet Isabelle, you were the girl of my life

Sweet Isabelle, I've got a whole other wife

She's got décor to adore

and is nobody's whore,

like Sweet Isabelle"

The song had started out rather muted; she was shy of her voice, of course. But towards the end of the song, in particular in the chorus "Sweet Isabelle", she sang with all of her heart. I was completely dumbfounded and had I not been determined on having a bit of fun and already taken the time to a minute of planning ahead, the evening might have ended right there, right then.

"You are quite astonishing, slut! I've never heard that song before. You sang it with great vigor, I have to confess."

"Thank you, Master."

The song had had a positive impact on her mood, "Master" sounded far more joyful than it had done only a minute ago.

"Maybe you would like me to release your bondage because you sang so beautifully? Do you want me to let you go or would you rather play until breakfast?"

It was an obvious trick question. Of course. And she answered appropriately.

"Thank you, Master, but if you allow, I would rather play until breakfast."

Damn it if I didn't actually believe her. She had definitely had a change of heart. Little sister Mary had so far shown considerably more talent as a sub than she had ever managed as a dominatrix.

"Then it is decided. I will torment you until breakfast for no other reason than my own sheer pleasure. The slut is allowed to take pleasure as well but may under no circumstances cum until the Master so commands. Is the slut comfortable with these simple guidelines for the night?"

She bit her lower lip and I observed a slight shiver running through the woman's body.

"Yes, Master."

She played the game beautifully.

When I walked around her, caressing her body with the tip of the cane, I came to remember the cameras around us. I had not given them a second thought but now I realized that I was quite certainly observed by Magdalene, Peter and Matthew. I considered to cover myself but repeated the mantra of the other night: There is no business like show business and the show must go on. Any attempt to shield my privates from the audience would only look ridiculous. Although, I briefly reflected, it probably did not matter any longer since I had broken the rules. Anyhow, I would be in a much better position to amuse myself if I was naked so naked it would be.

Mary, nevertheless, was insultingly overdressed for the occasion.

I started by unhooking her modernistic leather bra; the metal points clanked as the garment hit the floor. A pair of surprisingly natural breasts escaped their confinement. Not pumped by silicone as might have been expected with a professional in the field but rather small and saggy from age. Nonetheless, or maybe just because of this, they were among the most beautiful breasts that I had ever laid eyes upon. I let a finger trace their contour and watched with amusement how the skin puckered from the light touch. I cupped one breast, felt its weight in my hand and swiftly brushed the nipple with my thumb. Mary gasped and I could feel her response to my touch as her nipple stiffened and body quaked. One step back. I gently slapped the breast; she moaned silently; and continued my walk around her.