Sarah's Awakening Page 2

  Disgusted and slightly afraid, she moved backward and away from him. He continued, aware that he was losing her.

  "Hey, what? I'm not good enough for you, is that it? Huh, you stuck-up bitch? You sluts are all alike, dressing up like that to tease us guys and then holding out. Who do you think you are..."

  He was cut off suddenly by a tall man with dark hair and a beard. “You heard the woman, Mack. She isn't interested. Take it down the block. Get lost.” As he spoke, he tightened his grip on the younger man's shoulder and propelled him into the crowd and away from Sarah.

  "Oh! Thank you so much! I hate that kind of guy. You saved me.” Sarah smiled up into the man's face with such a look of gratitude he had to laugh.

  "Oh, please don't mention it. I can't stand when little creeps like that hit on people. Gives the place a bad reputation. We aren't all like that, I promise you. Say, can I get you a drink?"

  Because she felt grateful for his intervention, Sarah accepted and together they walked to the bar in the center of the room. She would stay a little longer, after all. Once served, they stood together quietly, drinks in hand. Sarah noticed the large collection of whips near the bar. Her eyes widened as she stared at the crops, floggers, and cat-o'-nine-tails hanging prettily from their hooks. The gentleman grinned as he saw what she was looking at with such open-eyed wonder.

  "You're new here, aren't you? And, I'd venture to guess, new to the scene?"

  The scene. There was that word again. This secret society that pulsated all around her and she had never realized it even existed. But it all seemed like such a game—this “scene” was just that—a play complete with characters dressed up and performing their roles. It left a bitter taste in Sarah's mouth. Her own fantasies were so real to her—this seemed like a cruel joke.

  "The scene,” she blurted out, more forcefully than she had meant to. Flushing slightly, she looked down, but continued with dogged determination. “What is all this talk about “the scene?” Is this just a game to all of you? Are you one more player come to “show me a good time?” No, let me guess. You are a “Master” who has been waiting all his life for a slave girl like me to drop into this club, this scene, right?” She spluttered to a halt as she realized that he was laughing. It was a big, open-throated laugh that took her totally by surprise.

  "Well,” she said, stiffening, “I can see this is all very funny to you. Go laugh with your friends now. I'm going home."

  "No! Wait! I'm sorry,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm as she set her glass hard against the bar. “Please forgive me. I find you simply delightful. To tell you the truth, I'm not used to such candor. And you are so right. So much that goes on here is play. But that is the nature of this place, don't you see? This is a club where people come to perform for each other. Nothing here is taken seriously. It is just for fun. That doesn't mean it's a bad thing, though. It just is what it is. I don't know where you got your expectations, or even what they are, but I doubt your dreams will come true here."

  Sarah was listening to him. She noticed that he hadn't taken his hand from her arm. Pulling it away from him, she turned to face him. “What do you know of my dreams?” she asked in a calmer tone.

  "I know some general things—or I can guess."

  "Yes? Go ahead, let's hear what you think you know about me."

  "Well,” he smiled, looking right into her eyes. “I think you are submissive.” Sarah looked away suddenly. She felt an undeniable thrill at hearing someone describe her like that. But she didn't say anything. He continued.

  "I think you are looking for something, or someone here. I think you are new to all this, but still interested."

  "Well, that's pretty general stuff,” she said. “Not too hard to guess that about anyone here."

  As if challenged, he continued, still looking directly at her. “You are submissive, but untested. You are looking for a man who can test you, who can discover what it is that moves you. Someone who understands your need to submit. To be used. To be controlled and bent to another's pleasure.” Sarah found that her mouth had gone dry. Taking a long drink from her glass, she looked back at this stranger who seemed to know her so well. Who was this man?

  She realized they hadn't even exchanged names. “I'm Sarah.” She extended her hand.

  "Julian, at your service,” he said, grasping her hand firmly. He didn't drop it as he continued to speak. “You are new, as you say. But you are ready. I can see it in your eyes—in how you carry yourself. I know what you need. You need a Master. You need a real man to teach you how to submit. I can teach you. I've been watching you. I can show you the way to heaven."

  Sarah was aware that he sounded far too sure of himself. She stifled an impulse to laugh at his stilted words. Yet, even as her intellect was amused by his arrogance, she found her body responding to what he offered. She was curious, desperately curious.

  Julian continued, “Let's get out of here. I know a nice little place near here where we can get a cup of coffee and get to know each other a little better."

  Almost not believing herself, Sarah found herself agreeing to join him. After all, he had gallantly rescued her from that creepy punk. But that wasn't the real reason. She wanted to hear more. She wanted to learn more from this confident older man. She felt as if she could trust him.

  "Just a minute,” she said. “I have to tell my friend I'm leaving.” She walked over to the circle where Beth was still standing.

  As Sarah was about to speak, Beth turned around. “Oh, hi, Julian. I see you've met my friend Sarah.” Sarah was surprised but pleased to see that this man was not a complete stranger. She whispered to Beth that she was going with Julian to get a cup of coffee and not to wait for her.

  "That was fast, Sarah, dear,” Beth said, laughing. “But you picked a good one. Julian is a nice guy. You'll be safe with him.” Leaning over to Sarah, Beth said in a loud stage whisper, “But you'd better call me when you get home and tell me all about your adventures.” Sarah flushed at Beth's flippant words, while the group around her laughed. Ignoring them, she turned to Julian, who gallantly offered his arm to the young woman.

  Sarah sighed with relief as they entered the clear night air. The club had been stuffy and thick with cigarette smoke. And what a strange crowd! Breathing deeply, she did a little pirouette on the sidewalk. Julian laughed and said, “What a pretty picture you make, dancing there in the dark.” Sarah was embarrassed but pleased by his remark. They walked quietly for a few blocks. Julian led her to the door of a small café.

  When they were shown to their table, he pulled out her chair in what she felt was a charming, old-fashioned way. She was beginning to relax and enjoy herself. Once coffee was ordered, Julian leaned back in his chair and smiled at Sarah. “I promised to tell you about myself. I am forty-three years old. I have been in the scene for over twenty years. I'm what you'd call a “Dominant,” or “Dom” for short. I like the power of taking what I want when I want it. I like to train little girls like you and use them for my pleasure. I like to play. This is a game, but a wonderful one.

  "I have references; you'll find I'm highly regarded in the SM community. I don't know exactly what you're looking for, but I should warn you that I don't fall in love. If you become my slave, you will be my toy, not my lover. I have lots of toys and I don't like to be limited. If you think you could tolerate that, I'm willing to take you home with me and find out what you're made of."

  Sarah had discovered that she was not breathing while he spoke. Her first impulse, again, was to laugh at him. He was rather good-looking, for an older guy, she thought. But still, where did he get off with that attitude? She rarely allowed men to talk to her in such a pompous manner. She was generally brutal in her attack if she thought someone was acting in an arrogant fashion, especially a man. But because of the content of what he said, and the context in which they had met, Sarah found herself mute. Rather than deflating his balloon of self-satisfied ego, she, instead, sat tongue-tied like an awestruck school
girl.

  "Well?” he said, looking directly at her as if he could see into her secret thoughts. “The first thing you would learn under my tutelage is to speak when spoken to, little lady."

  Little lady. The address made her cringe. But still, though this was not necessarily the ideal man for her, he had offered to “use her.” He was a “Master,” even if only self-proclaimed. Not sure she could do better, Sarah swallowed her pride and, lowering her eyes, murmured in a low voice, “Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, I want to know if my dreams were meant to become reality. I want to go home with you.” Even as she spoke, she couldn't believe her own boldness. Just then, the waitress brought their order. They sipped their coffee in silence. He was smiling as he surveyed her. She avoided his gaze, looking instead around the café, though she noticed nothing. They finished their coffee and Julian paid the check.

  They walked the few blocks to where his car was parked. Again, gentleman that he was, Julian opened her door and waited until she was safe inside to close it. They drove a few minutes to his apartment building in the Village and parked in the adjacent garage. During that short drive, Sarah found that her mind was numb. It was almost as if she didn't dare think; to do so might invite retraction and retreat. She knew what she was doing was crazy. She didn't want to think it over. Closing her eyes, she thought of nothing. And, before she knew it, Julian had parked the car.

  He lived a few floors up in a modest but well-kept apartment building. In the small, old-fashioned elevator, Julian stood quietly next to her, his arms crossed over his chest. Sarah was silent as well, unconsciously biting her lower lip. She glanced sidelong at him, surveying the stranger with whom she had agreed to go home.

  His face was handsome, with large, regular features. His gray eyes were widely spaced over a rather broad, slightly hooked nose. Only his mouth kept him from being really good-looking—his lips were too thin. But he managed to camouflage that drawback with his beard and mustache. Sarah's eyes traveled down to his body. Julian was tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He was beginning to show signs of a slight paunch.

  Suddenly he turned and looked Sarah square in the face. She looked straight ahead, trying to conceal the fact that she had been examining him. Julian's expression was amused as he turned back to face the front of the elevator. It clanked to a lurching halt and the doors opened. Julian led her down the narrow hallway to his apartment door.

  Unlocking it, he gestured for her to enter and turned on the light near the door. The place was clean and decorated with a decidedly masculine touch. The furniture was leather and the color scheme was muted grays and blues. Sarah stood uncertainly near the door, clasping her hands in front of her. Julian stepped close to her. Butterflies were dancing in her stomach. She felt almost as if she were acting in a play—only she had no lines. She felt almost silly, and yet more serious than she ever had in her life. She had to seize this moment. She had to.

  "Are you prepared to serve me, young woman?” Sarah jumped slightly. He had whispered close to her ear. She could smell his cologne. Almost in a dream, she nodded.

  "Then the first thing you must do is strip."

  Sarah stood stock-still, not sure she had heard him correctly. As if she had spoken aloud, he said, “You heard me. Off with your pretty little dress, Sarah. Now!" In spite of the emphasis he put on the last word, she made no move to obey him. He came close to her then and said, “I see you cannot obey even the simplest command. I will assist you. Kneel down before me."

  "Pardon me?” she managed to stammer.

  "Kneel."

  "I think I've made a mistake, Julian. Excuse me. I have to go now.” As she spoke, Sarah began edging toward the door.

  "Don't go, Sarah. We haven't even begun. This is your chance to explore. To find out if this is more than just a game for you. Don't deny your impulses. Don't deny the obvious need. Give in to it. Surrender. You may not have this chance again."

  Sarah knew he was right. This was her chance to try what she claimed was her secret desire. She reached behind herself and started slowly to unzip her dress.

  But before she had her chance to belatedly obey his earlier command to strip, Julian grabbed Sarah's shoulders. He pressed her to the floor, forcing her to kneel before him. “You didn't strip when I ordered you to do so. You didn't kneel when I commanded it. Now you will have to be punished, little Sarah.” With that, he pressed her head to the floor, which forced her ass high in the air. With one hand, he flipped up her dress. His other hand stayed pressed firmly on her neck.

  She was squirming and yelling. “Let me up! Please! Julian!"

  Ignoring her protests, he held her in position with one hand as he caressed and smoothed her round little bottom through her panties. Then he smacked her ass lightly with his open palm, several times in succession. As he spanked her, he increased the pressure with each smack.

  Sarah, who had been taken totally by surprise by all this, now cried out and jerked, trying to get away. He held her in place with ease. Again he swatted her as she continued to struggle. Sarah was breathing hard and tensing her body.

  Julian stopped spanking her and began smoothing her bottom and thighs, cooing, “There, there, little slave girl. That's all for now. Perhaps now you will obey me when I tell you to do something."

  He flipped her dress back over her ass and helped her up to a standing position. Sarah didn't speak. She was stunned at what had just occurred. She was too scared even to open her mouth. She focused on calming her breathing; slowing her racing heart. While part of her was outraged that he had done this to her before she felt “ready,” another part of her, which she couldn't deny, was thrilling to what had just happened. As she rubbed her sore bottom, she felt a rising lust that made her feel weak.

  As if unaware of her confusion, or simply unconcerned, Julian sat on the couch nearby and said firmly, “For the rest of our time together, unless I tell you otherwise, you are to address me as ‘Sir.’ Do you understand?” Sarah stared at him, but didn't respond.

  Julian rose and strode over to her. Leaning down, he slapped her cheek lightly.

  Gasping, she reached up to touch the spot. Then, in a low voice: “Y ... Y ... Yes, Sir."

  "Very good.” Julian grinned. “Now, slave. I want to see you. Really see you. Please remove your clothing for me. And then stand at attention, back straight, hands at your sides, head bowed."

  Slave. The word kept reverberating in her head. Sex slave, love slave. This wasn't a dream; this wasn't one of her nocturnal fantasies. This was real. Sarah felt her own desire burning within, even as she blushed at the thought of stripping for this man. She was a little afraid of him now, but determined to go on. Her own desire, lust, and need were pushing her to act. Sarah looked up at Julian then and blushed anew as she realized he was regarding her intently. She felt sure somehow, he could read her thoughts. Without being reminded again, she pulled her dress slowly over her head. Her large breasts bounced free. Julian was staring at her, his face inscrutable. Sarah was not used to this reaction, or rather, non-reaction, to her almost-bare body. She felt uncertain, almost like a nervous child. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, Sarah stood still, waiting.

  "Oh, don't stop now, slave girl. Off with your panties. Hurry up, dear. You may leave on your stockings and heels. I rather like the slut look."

  As if in a dream, Sarah pulled down her own panties and then kicked them away. She started to cover her naked form again, but was reminded with a shake of Julian's head that she was to keep her arms at her sides. Julian looked at her for some minutes. She was glad for the command to keep her head down; she felt from the heat in her face that she was still blushing. At last, he got up and walked over to her. Taking her hand, he led her down a hallway to what turned out to be the bedroom.

  Without a word, he brought her over to the bed in the middle of the room and flipped her onto it, facedown. The mattress was resting in a frame of natural wrought iron. The iron was brush
ed to a burnished silver and twisted into lovely patterns of a crescent moon and stars. Soft leather straps were hanging from each corner. Sarah noticed that the straps were well worn. She was certainly not the first young woman Julian had convinced to explore her fantasies.

  Before she could dwell on this line of thought, Julian quickly and expertly attached Sarah's wrists and ankles to the bed, using the straps. She barely had time to protest before she found herself bound spread-eagled before him.

  Sarah felt she would pass out from the excitement of her situation. It was still with some disbelief that she lay there, bound and nearly naked. It took her a moment to realize that Julian was speaking. As he spoke, he turned her head so that she was facing the wall.

  "Look at all my pretty toys. I've been collecting these for twenty years now. And if you are very, very good, you will get to experience each and every one of them."

  There before her was a whole array of instruments of torment and pleasure. Whips, canes, ropes, restraints, and gags covered the wall in a formidable display.

  "Oh my God!” she breathed, at once shocked and fascinated. She couldn't take her eyes off the wall. Julian grinned as he walked over and removed an especially soft silk cloth from its special hook on the wall.

  "Here my love, this scarf should help you keep quiet. Sometimes I will want to hear your cries, but for now, I want to concentrate on your first whipping."

  Her first whipping! Yes, she had wanted this, but so soon? Not being able to control her own fear, Sarah began to struggle. It was in vain, of course. She was completely immobilized by her bonds. Julian came to her then and traced her full lips with his finger. “Relax, slave girl. I know you are still getting used to your new, er, situation. But resistance will only make it more difficult for you.” He then leaned onto the bed and placed the gag firmly over her mouth, knotting it at the nape of her neck. Standing back from the bed, he admired his handiwork.

  Then Sarah felt Julian's hand on her sex. He pressed against her nether lips and pushed a finger inside her gently. He found to his delight that she was wet and ready for him. She realized this as well and her blush deepened as she was forced to acknowledge her own eagerness for his touch. With increasing intensity he began to massage and pinch her swelling pussy lips till she was moaning softly through her gag, then withdrew his hand. She almost arched up toward it, but resisted consciously, still feeling embarrassed and unsure.