The hotel was full of kink and Amateur Facial that weekend. In the hallways and elevators, we passed people in dark costumes, oiled leather, and shiny latex. T-shirts pronounced “Amateur Facial, rope slut,” “got toys?,” and—-my personal favorite–“I’m bi, kinky, and poly, and I still don’t want to sleep with you.” Workshops and seminars were held during the day. In the evenings the ballrooms were filled—-wall to wall, floor to ceiling—-with dungeon equipment: Amateur Facial, spanking benches, Saint Andrew’s crosses, cages, whipping posts, gynecological tables, massage tables, wrestling mats, wooden frames, metal frames, ladders, and even a coffin.
They didn’t have a trapeze bar (it seemed like such a circus, I kept expecting one to drop from the ceiling), but they did have a winch on an electronic pulley. _Nice_.
I had been to these conventions before, but had only played in the Amateur Facial dungeon as a top. The thought of being submissive in public was terrifying to me. What if I disappoint him by being graceless or willful? What if he pushes me to do Amateur Facial and things I don’t want to do? What if I look ridiculous instead of sexy while doing Amateur Facial?
What will other people think of me and my Amateur Facial if I let them see what a Amateur Facial slut I am? What if I run into my dad or my boss while getting Amateur Facial?
But I really _did_ want to do Amateur Facial and face my fears, follow my heart, and please Sir with Amateur Facial. So I breathed deeply and tried not to dwell on fear but instead look forward to Amateur Facial. Sir had never before violated my trust, and that thought was a comfort. I could trust him to force me to face my fear of Amateur Facial; I could trust him to know when and if it was too much for me to face Amateur Facial.
I dressed for the evening in my leather corset, a soft low-cut black bra, and black boy shorts that revealed a spankable portion of my buttocks for Amateur Facial. I strapped on my 6-inch black heels, adding a certain grace to my long slender legs ready for Amateur Facial. I buttoned a white leather jacket to cover the ensemble, fingers trembling with excitement nfor Amateur Facial.
“Are you ready for Amateur Facial?” Sir looked dashing as usual, formidable and confident in his dark attire and leather boots. He picked up a bag of toys in one hand and extended the other to me. I looked into his eyes, searching for some reassurance that I would indeed survive tonight’s Amateur Facial play session.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. He grinned, excited by my obvious timidity toward Amateur Facial. I took his hand and tucked my pinkie finger between our palms.
I felt exposed as soon as we left the room. There were other patrons swarming through the hotel, and I was excruciatingly aware of their Amateur Facial eyes on my pedicured toes, spiky stripper shoes, and yards and yards of delectable flesh. My coat barely covered my ass, and when we stepped into the elevator, a small child looked up at me. His head did not even come up to my hemline.
“Hi,” I ventured, trying to appear harmless. I stepped to the opposite side of the elevator and the child’s mother pulled him away from us. I glanced at Sir, who simply flashed his delighted smile again.
In the Amateur Facial dungeon, I felt safer, surrounded by people just as kinky and into Amateur Facial as we were. Sir led me to a large wooden frame, an inverted “U” shape with eyebolts designed for stringing rope. He spread a blanket on a padded gym mat underneath the assembly and pointed to it so I would get ready for Amateur Facial.
“Present yourself ready for Amateur Facial,” he said, turning away and unpacking his toy bag.
I removed my coat and knelt, knees apart, arms behind my back, pushing my breasts and pelvis forward as he had taught me, ready for Amateur Facial.
With chin up and eyes looking ahead, I was able to take in the sights and sounds around me. Directly across the Amateur Facial dungeon, two women were giggling as they electrically shocked a lithe pale man over and over with a violet wand. His limbs jumped and twitched. He squealed and seemed utterly pleased with Amateur Facial and himself.
To my right I could see an old acquaintance, Angel, strapped to a spanking bench getting Amateur Facial. She and Sir had been lovers once, but today, her two boyfriends were working her over ready for Amateur Facial.
One would spank her ass with his open hand, while the other slapped her face and spoke to her sternly. Then they would switch and one would flog her while the other forced his cock into her mouth. She didn’t seem to suffer from my affliction—shame and embarrassment at being overtaken in public. In fact, she seemed nothing less than giddy and enthusiastic. _Lucky girl_, I thought.
Amateur Facial in the Dungeon
My reverie was broken when Sir stepped into my line of vision, collar in hand. It was time. I took a deep breath and slowly crawled toward him. Excitement and tension mounted in me as I leaned forward to kiss his boot in greeting. I rested my forehead on his toes.
“Hello, Sir. I’m scared!”
“I know,” he said, his voice reassuring. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“Yes, Sir. I suppose it is.” I felt strangely calm. “Thank you.”
A subtle lift of his toe signaled me to rise and kiss the collar. I leaned my head against his leg as he strapped me in and fastened the lock with a sharp click.
“Stand up.” I obeyed, sneaking a glance at the toys he had pulled out of his bag. Rope—lots of rope—and a scarf. Nothing else. _Not too bad_, I thought, feeling relieved. _I love it when Sir ties me up_.
“Spread your legs. Arms behind your back. Look straight ahead.” He wrapped the silky white rope in a wide belt around my hips, attached a second rope to the first where it knotted at my sacrum, and tied that to a large metal ring suspended above my head. He repeated the technique on my thighs, calves, and ankles, essentially binding my legs to one another in a series of wide rope stripes. I indulged in the sensation of being bound, even caressed by my bindings.
He passed the rope around my chest and back, creating wide bands of parallel rope above and below my breasts. He tugged and adjusted, and I allowed my body to sway with his motion. Finally, he tied my arms firmly behind my back, each hand grabbing the opposite elbow.
Once immobilized, my breathing slowed and my senses both sharpened and dulled simultaneously. The outside world dropped away, and my inner realm was in sharp focus. I leaned against Sir at every opportunity and kissed and licked his flesh whenever it came close to my lips.
“Are you ready, my love, my slut, my Aurora?”
I breathed deeply—as much as you can with a rope pressing into your rib cage—and grinned at him. “Yes, Sir.”
He gave the line a strong pull and my body tipped forward. My feet came off the ground and I was flying, suspended horizontally, face down, arms behind me. Only his rope, his knots, and his skill were keeping me from plummeting to the floor.
“Open,” he said. _Shit, where did that ball gag come from?_ By the time I’d thought the words, he’d already stuffed my mouth full and was locking it in place. He cradled my head with a soft black scarf which covered my eyes and allowed me to rest my neck muscles.
“Now relax into it. Enjoy it. It’s your first suspension, my gift to you.”
For a long while after, he did not talk to me or touch me. My ears were filled with the music from the loudspeakers and the sounds of the dungeon—smacking, slapping, zapping, groaning, sighing, and laughing. A cacophony of pain, pleasure, and seduction enveloped me. Unable to speak, see, or move, I decided he was right: I might as well enjoy this moment as much as possible.
When I had settled into my bindings, Sir turned his attention to me once more. He caressed my face with a toy; I could smell the leather even through my scarf. He ran the slapper all over my body and I shivered and squirmed. The movement got my body swaying in the ropes, and I couldn’t control my distance from Sir and his slapper. I became almost frantic and whimpered when I realized the extent of my helplessness.
It’s funny how that happens—I love the leather, love the slapper, love the way Sir can awaken my body with his tools and toys. I trust that he will never do me any real harm. Yet, there is always a panic and fear when I am completely at his mercy.
The delicious torture began with slow, firm, luxurious slaps with the leather. He smacked my buttocks, hips, and thighs. He worked the backs of my calves and bottoms of my feet. I moaned into my gag and tried to breathe through my scarf. I wiggled my body as much to show Sir my desire as to attempt escape from the pain.
Pulling my head up by the scarf, he began to slap my chest. I felt my heart awaken, open, and expand. I wanted to show him all the love and devotion that was inside of me, and so I arched and murmured “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” as he beat me. _Yes, I am yours totally, Sir._
The smacking ceased. _Could he be done with me already?_ Endorphins were flowing through my body, and I felt a glow emanate from my entire being. He must have known how open and vulnerable I was, because he reached up and yanked down the fabric of my bra to expose my tits. Pulled taut in their rope bindings, my breasts seemed swollen and sensitive.
It was rare indeed for me to undress myself in public, and never before had I allowed him to expose me without explicit consent. I was scared and ashamed, but thrilled and turned on. I could feel my heartbeat deep in my cunt and so I pushed my breasts towards him.
“That’s right,” he assured me. “These are my breasts to expose as I see fit. Push them out for me; I want to get a better look at them. Make sure everyone can get a good look.”
_Everyone?_ Oh, God, I’d forgotten about the bystanders! But I obeyed, enjoying being admired and wanted. Enjoying pleasing Sir. Enjoying being used for his amusement.
The slapping continued on my breasts now, a rhythm that set me into a deep trance. The leather kissed my entire body and I began to forget. I forgot where I was. I forgot who I was. I became only the experience of floating, nothing more.
Suddenly, I was flying through water. I was swimming through air. I was reminded of scuba diving in the Caribbean, soaring under the ocean with sea turtles and tropical fish. I didn’t notice when the slapping stopped. I didn’t know that Sir had stepped away again. In my bindings, I began to move like a fish, darting back and forth as if I could swim through the dungeon itself. I was happy, content, and free to simply _be_ and _enjoy_.
The feel of strange hands on my body brought me back to the present. A stranger’s hands glided over my hips and ass, and administered a playful smack. “Who have you got in here?” he asked. The voice was unknown to me, but he and Sir were obvious acquaintances.
“This is my little slut, Dawn. It’s her first suspension,” he said. “Go ahead, feel free to touch her.”
More Amateur Facial in the Dungeon
My mouth fell agape behind the ball gag. _Feel free to touch her?!_ I’d fantasized about being “owned” like this before, but never did I think it would actually happen. But it was happening—Sir was indeed using my body for his pleasure. My breasts had been exposed for others to see and enjoy. And now, it pleased him to let this man touch me. I was shocked to discover just how much that turned me on !
Unfamiliar calloused hands roamed over my flesh, stroking, prodding, pinching, testing. They smacked my ass and thighs, tickled my feet, caressed and slapped my breasts, pinched and pulled my nipples, and firmly grabbed my crotch and rubbed at my pussy through the thin fabric of my panties. He must have felt my trembling body and the dampness between my legs.
I felt ashamed to be sharing something so intimate with him when I had no idea who he was.
“Very nice,” the stranger declared. “You let me know if you ever need help taming this one.” He gave me a parting swat, and was quickly gone.
Sir whispered in my ear. “Well done, slut. I think you rather enjoyed that.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“Well, here’s something else for you to enjoy.” He loosened some rope and lowered me to the floor. I curled up on my side, legs still bound together, hands still tied behind my back. He snuggled up behind me and tossed a blanket over us, hiding us away from the rest of the dungeon. It was dark and warm and I could smell his salty musky scent.
“Did that turn you on?” he whispered, rubbing tenderly between my legs.
“Oh, yes, it was beautiful, Sir.”
“Do you want to come for me now?”
“Now, Sir? Here?” _In this room full of people?_
“Yes, my slut. Right here, right now.” He pulled down my shorts and plunged a finger into me. I pushed back against him and moaned. _What room full of people?_
“Yes, Sir. Please.” I felt cold smooth steel slip inside of my cunt, which was already pulsing and eager to be ravished. The steel Njoy found its way home, cold metal pressing against my hot g-spot—and I nearly came right then and there.
“Oh, Sir! May I come for you please?,” I begged.
“No! Don’t you dare!” He moved the toy in small strokes, his smallest motions causing quivers and waves throughout my whole body. My hips rocked to meet Sir’s rhythm. His thrusts deepened and quickened, and I could hear the wetness of my cunt, his hand slapping against my juicy pussy as he fucked me with his metal tool.
“Oh shit! Oh, Sir! Please, may I come for you?!” I wasn’t sure I could withhold my orgasm, and I begged in a frenzied, frantic whisper. He pumped away furiously. _Oh, fuck! I’m not going to make it!_
“Sir, please, I have to, please let me. Sir, please, I want to come for you!”
“No! Keep begging, slut!”
“Please, Sir! I can’t….” But it was too late. His denial had only pushed me over the edge; another display of his control over me had proven irresistible. He fucked me with the toy and I fucked the toy too and I screamed under that blanket not caring who heard, not caring who knew that I was his little fuck slut. Waves and shudders ran through my body for several long minutes.
He slowly worked the Njoy, bringing me gently over that crest again and again, orgasm after orgasm rolling over me now. He whispered sexy sweet nothings in my ear and kissed my neck and face tenderly while I came. Eventually sated and exhausted, I snuggled back against Sir’s body.
“Mmmmm, that was hot,” he said. For a second, I thought I had gotten away with it. But he grabbed me by the hair and whispered, “You know I’ll have to punish you later. You need to have better control than that, slut. Your orgasms are mine to deny, mine to give, mine to control. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” And I meant it.
