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Special (34)

Posted by AshUK on Thu 3 Nov 11, 5:01 PM to AshUK's blog.

She kneels where he's told her to kneel, wearing what he's told her to wear, her arms behind her back and her head bowed. Just the way he's told her to kneel.

The fur coat keeps her warm, but she still shivers underneath it. Black knickers, suspender belt, stockings. No bra; her erect nipples brushing against the warm fur.

She can hear him talking to his friends, a few yards away. The sound of conversation, the sound of laughter. He's having a good time. He's having a good time without her.

She knows why he's told her to kneel here, in this lonely place in the middle of the room. She lifts her head slightly; she can see the other people in the club playing. Some of the subs are taking a huge amount of punishment; their wails and screams fill the air.

She drops her head. She's only played with her new master once; it didn't go well. She'd cried when he'd beaten her, begged him to stop when he was kicking her cunt, and whimpered like a bitch when he'd punched her in the stomach. She'd almost used her safeword once or twice; in the end she'd had to bury her face in the carpet just to keep it going.

He'd been disappointed in her; she could tell.

And so he'd put her here, on her knees, where she could watch the other girls playing. Where she could see what he needed her to be.

It wasn't fair, she thinks, her heart close to breaking. She wants so much to please him. She wants so much to be his.

And she has so much to offer too. She's been submissive as long as she can remember. She wants this more than she can say.

A fresh burst of laughter rings out behind her, reminding her again that he's talking with his friends, and that she's kneeling on her own.

So she's not into pain. It's not the end of the world, she tells herself. There's more to being a submissive than that. She's good at sucking cock, she takes it well either in the cunt or in the arse, and she's very obedient. Or at least, she tries to be. She wears whatever he wants, does whatever he tells her to. She would play with a girl if he asked her too. She would lick another girl's cunt if he asked, or submit to a domme. She would let other men fuck her, one man or many men, no matter how many. If he told her to.

Another scream drifts across the room. Even with her head down, she feels herself blushing. She knows there is no limit to what she would do for him. Group play, humiliation, watersports, as much torment and humiliation as he can dish out. If only he knew what she was capable of. If only he knew.

She keeps her head down, fighting back the tears.

She wishes she was special.

*************************************************** *********

A few yards away, he sits with his friends, sharing a glass of wine and some conversation. But – diverting as their company is – his eyes keep flicking over to where she kneels, on her own in the middle of the club.

She's not moved a muscle since he put her there. Some of his friends think he's being cruel; he knows they're right. But he's doing it all the same. He's been very clear with them. No-one is to talk to her. She's to stay there until he's ready for her.

He looks over at her again. She looks so beautiful, fur coat around her shoulders, long legs curled underneath her. He's itching to go over to her, to wrap his fist in her hair, and use her. Right there and then. But he won't. Not yet.

He knows she can see the other people playing; he knows she can see how much of a beating other girls can take. Good. It will do her good to see that.

After all, it's not as if he hasn't had other subs; other girls who can take more of a beating than she can. The first session he'd had with her was almost a disaster. He feels his anger rising to the surface just at the memory of it.

One of his friends says something funny, and he laughs. But again, his attention soon wanders over to the girl in the middle of the floor. He lifts his wine glass to his lips, all the while thinking of her face, her smile, the way she'd wrapped her legs around him..

He knows she has more to give. He knows that underneath that quiet, shy demeanour, there's a filthy, dirty bitch waiting to come out. She'll do anything for him; he knows that. All the twisted things in his head, all the dark, demented fantasies he has – he could do them with her. She has her own too, he knows that. And he's barely beginning to get his head around just how sick and depraved she can be.

He feels himself starting to get hard at the thought of it. As his gaze slides down the graceful curve of her back, the nape of her neck, he imagines watching her with another girl, another man, seeing her cry and whimper as he does things to her he's never done to anyone else...

He pours himself another glass of wine. His erection strains at the front of his suit trousers. He wants her so fucking much.

But is it enough ? Forget about her inability to take pain, is it enough that she's a dirty, kinky bitch who wants to be used and tormented ? Can she give him everything he needs ? Can she be the one he's been looking for ? He wants her to be, he wishes she could be.

He looks over at her again, kneeling in her lonely space in the middle of the room. She's kneeling there, she's kneeling there for him.

He wishes she was special.