The End of the Bar

I walked into that bar exhausted yet again, another day at work.  Hiring someone else at this point would be ineffectual, it would take three of me to get through the paperwork that is ever growing on my desk.  I’m not even sure what we make anymore, is it paperclips?

This isn’t your pickup bar, or even a dive, it’s an after-work bar where the paper-pushers, middle-men and women, and office drones sit and drink their worries from the day away.  It is where I can walk in with the clothes I work in, and not be bothered by men trying in vain to pick me up, and women who were born when I started college looking at me like an ancient old crone.

I sipped my cranberry vodka and breathed with a sigh, letting go of the worries of the day, and attempting to watch the game on the tiny screen.  Then, I saw her, the girl at the end of the bar, and my mind’s feet drifted over to her.

She was in her early twenties, dark skin, and a very cute bob haircut.  Her hair was curly and highlighted and she had the cutest nose.  She sipped her drink, possibly a shirley temple, through a straw and looked around, not knowing what to do with herself.

I certainly did.  I would reach over and stroked her shoulder and she would smile in response.  I’d sit next to her and try to match the excitement in her large black eyes with equal excitement in my green ones.  I would comment on her dress, which looked absolutely divine and showed off her long legs, and she would comment on my hair and I would ask if she would like to go to a booth.

She would respond with “Maybe somewhere else...” and rise from her stool and lead me out of the bar and into the cool night air.  She would lead me to her car, and then inside, and we would drive to her apartments.  Once inside, we would waste no time with getting-to-know-yous, we would both know what was going to happen.

She would start by kissing my neck and reaching behind me to undo my dress.  I would hug her and take in the intoxicating scent of her hair and kissing down the dark skin of her shoulders, while wiggling her body to get out of the dress which she had loosened with one swift motion.  That dress would fall to the floor, as would mine and our bodies would collapse onto her couch, my hands exploring her mocha skin, and her tongue getting her first taste of my stiffening pink nipples.

Eventually, her touching would be too much, and I would rub against her hip, giving her the indication that under thin cotton panties was a moist patch, waiting to get touched, kissed, and licked.  She would then slip off my bra and I would use my teeth to drag her panties down, as she undid hers a little more expertly than mine.

With her pussy revealed, I would pull my face close to the dark patch of hair and already swollen lips that I could see within.  Kissing her inner thighs would only tease her more and leaning back she would assume the position for what I was an expert in.  I would tease her clit carefully to make and appearance, and then plant little kisses around, as she closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in an adorable way.  My mouth on her pussy would make her squirm and tease her just so, and then my mouth would find new territory on her ample breasts.  As I would lick her dark nipples, her arms would envelop me, not being shy about wanting our exposed pussies to finally make contact.  We would kiss on the lips, and our pussy lips would meet, tasting each other sinfully as our mouths and hands explored each other with a white hot intensity.

Her bed would naturally come next, and our nude bodies would climb inside, making a mess of the neatly laid out covers and sheets.  We would tangle ourselves in passion and pass our juices back and forth to each other, tasting each other and drinking each other in as the other came.  We would be as loud as we needed to be and greedy with the air, panting heavily as a signal to each other to keep on doing what they were doing.  We would then collapse into each others arms and relax the rest of the night away as we dreamed together with each other’s scents and tastes still fresh and intoxicating the other, more than any drink could.

A loud cheer from the bar snapped me out of my daydream.  The score had been made, the game had been won.  I looked at the end of the bar, and my girl now had company, a tall muscular man who planted a kiss on his date, and unfortunately, the game for me was over before it started.

Splish Splash

I was changing out of my suit in the locker room after only a few laps.  It was a curious little ritual I had picked up, ever since I had been gifted a month’s membership to this gym.  I would go in, as late as possible, just fifteen minutes before the pool closed, and swim under cover of darkness, as I saw it.  There were never any other women in the pool, the gym was women only, and I was certain the lifeguard was just there for insurance purposes.

I had always been very self-conscious about my body, and even the quick swim which was noticed by only one other living being, was pushing my limits of how exposed I would be.  Which is exactly why I jumped when Carrie, the lifeguard, peeked her head from around the corner.  I was naked and quickly grabbed for a towel to cover up, panting anxiously at the sight of this intruder with the same fierceness if she had been a rapist.

“Easy, girl,” she said to calm me.  “I was just wondering if you wanted to stay later.  I don’t have anything to do tonight, so I can keep the pool open a little while longer.”

I smiled.  “Oh no thanks,” I said.  “I just like quick laps, I’m not much of a swimmer.”

She smiled broadly.  “You’re a lot better than some of the women I’ve seen.  You should swim more, it’s good for you.”

“I know,” I said.  “It’s just I think I need to get used to the environment a bit,” I said, hoping that excuse would satisfy her a bit.

“Or, you need a coach,” she said beaming.  “And, I just happen to be an excellent one!”

She had an amazing body, and striking red hair which almost looked dyed, until your eyes were lost in her pale blue eyes.  Her skin was freckled, but it just made her face beam even more, every time she would flash her pearly whites.

“I’m Carrie,” she said holding out her hand.  “I’ll be your coach, ok?”  She said it more forcefully than most questions, as if my acceptance of her being my coach was a foregone conclusion, and I shook her hand cautiously.  “I’m Penny,” I said.  

“Ok, ready for your first lesson?” she smiled.  She was so cute and had so much energy, I simply could not protest.  “Sure,” I said.

“More swimming!” she proclaimed and took my hand leading me out of the locker room.  I still only had the towel around me, but before I knew it, we were both out of the locker room, and she was locking the locker-room doors behind me.

“Oh,” I said, “I have to get my suit on, open up the locker.”

“No, you don’t!” she said with a devilish grin, and ran towards the pool, her keys jangling behind her.  She quickly scampered up to her lifeguard perch and I was left by the door, wondering what was next.

“C’mon,” she said, “ten laps, freestyle, go!”

“Carrie!” I said.  “I don’t have anything on under this, open up the locker room.”

“Not until you do your ten!” Carrie teased.  

I was shocked at this request.  I had very carefully timed my workout to leave me with as little contact with other women as possible, and Carrie had just smashed all those machinations to bits!  “But, but,” I said.

“If you don’t, I’ll just throw these in the diving pool and go home!”  Carrie said.  I wasn’t quite sure if she was serious or not, but the diving pool depth was a uniform twelve feet deep, and I decided not to risk it.  Carrie was young enough not to really care if she lost her job to a prank.

“Ok, ok,” I relented.  I looked around cautiously to see if anyone else was around.

“It’s just us,” she said.  “C’mon, let’s go.”

I took a deep breath, dropped the towel, and hopped in the pool.  Carrie cheered me on as I swam toward her perch.  The pool did feel extra nice, the water was heated a bit more than usual, and I kept my body underneath the water, fooling myself into thinking I was covered.

Carrie grabbed her whistle, and became more authoritarian.  She blew and said, “Ok, you’re used to the water now, swim to the edge over there and start.”

I swam to the edge, keeping my body under the waves even though the depth was only three feet.  The stands for the swim meet the next morning were already set up.

“Ok, on your mark, c’mon,” Carrie whistled.  I put my hands into the railings of the stands thinking that would be enough.

“No, no, no, out of the water!”  Carrie ordered.  

“Carrie!” I protested, but she would have none of that.  “I have to see your dive, and make sure your form is good.”

I sighed and climbed out of the water, scared to death someone would walk in, and so I just wanted to get it done with as soon as possible.  I stepped onto the stand and Carrie made a catcall.

“You’re not helping!” I yelled.  

Carrie smiled, “Ok, on your mark!”  I bent over.  Carrie was still on her perch, and I was glad I at least wasn’t putting on a peep show for anyone.  She let out a loud whistle and I dove in, with a solid form.  I had not swam competitively since freshman year of college, but I took to it again, like riding a bike.  I did lap after lap, swimming harder than I had ever done with the suit, and my body felt so free and alive.  As I got accustomed to the water, I even started doing flip turns at each lap, and I even forgot I was skinny dipping for a second.

On my last lap, as I approached the end of my journey, I saw two legs dipped into the water in the lane next to me.  I momentarily panicked, and shot straight up in the pool, ending my lap, but also exposing me from the waist up.  When the water cleared my eyes, I saw it was Carrie.

“You scared me!” I screamed.  As I rubbed the chlorine out of my eyes, I noticed that she wasn’t wearing her normal lifeguard tank, it was a strange ivory top.  As my eyes got more clear, I saw that Carrie was relaxing quite content with no top at all.  Her red hair fell sultrily across her breasts and she smiled at me as she noticed that I realized what she was wearing.

“The water looks so inviting,” she said.  “Mind if I join?”  I was speechless as she stood up and dropped her orange shorts, leaving her completely naked.  Her pussy was trimmed, but still had a beautiful tuft of red hair above her lips, which matched the rest of her perfectly.  She dove in and swam next to me, circling around me as I took in the scene.  My own nipples were extra hard compounded by my excitement and the cool night air, chilling the water still on my skin.  

She dipped below the surface and came up, like the sexiest dolphin I had ever seen.  I swam after her, and we played in the deep end for a while, each of us pushing the other farther in how much we could touch the other.  I grabbed her ass, she grabbed my tits, I stroked her hair, she licked my ears.  Eventually, we were in the five foot depth with me pinned against the wall, and she kissed me deeply.  Our tongues danced and my hands explored every inch of her body, and I never wanted the moment to end.  

She wrapped her smooth, alabaster legs around me, and I held her tight, as our mouths met, and we rubbed together in a sinful dance that was certainly against the pool rules.  She moved down, so that our clits finally foound each other and made contact, which I swore produced an electric spark, a dangerous thought if you consider the fact we were in a pool.

I started kissing and massaging her breasts, lifting her whole body high so I could bite her nipples.  Her red hair was now a few shades darker as it draped over, and partially obscured, her face, which she didn’t mind.  She was lost in pure lust, as I worked each pink nipple and tenderly carressed her.  With my fingers exploring her pussy, and my mouth firmly clamped on her breast, I felt her heart race and heard her breathing start to quicken in a very familiar way.  She open her mouth and moaed loudly, then shrieked, as the full brunt of her orgasm coursed through.
She panted heavily as she came, her pussy pulsing against my fingers, and her arms giving me the tightest hug I had ever had.  When it had subsided, she let go of me and grabbed hold of the pool wall tightly, as her breathing recovered, and she confirmed that she would not suddenly float away at this moment.

I kissed the nape of her neck and said, “Wow, you’re a great coach.”

She turned and smiled.   “Only the best!”  She pulled her self out of the pool and looked like an absolute goddess in the soft blue light that the pool gave off at night.  “Well,” she said, “we better hit the showers.”

She winked,and like a good student, I followed my coach.

Rope, Part Three

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Rope, Part Two

Read Rope, Part One here:

http://asporina.blogspot.com/2011/08/rope-part-one.html

We drove for quite a distance, over some smooth roads, but also a few rocky ones.  The ropes that surrounded me did almost nothing to support my breasts, which jiggled with every bump.  I knew my back, and probably my butt, was getting bruised, thanks to the vans lacklustre suspension, and the board’s lack of any cushion.  It did have a coat of varnish on it, so at least there were no splinters, but it still forced me to brace myself constantly, as I never knew what would rock the van next.

My head and neck were still free, and if I had stretched myself I probably could have propped myself up to a seated position, with my legs spread wide. But I knew that would be pointless, and probably seen as a gesture of disobedience, one to be punished severely later.

I did crane my neck to look around, when my eyes got tired of the unblinking stare of the van’s yellow dome light.  Although the back of the van was windowless, I could see that it was still light outside.  Although I lost all track of time as I felt every jolt and bump in the road, I did see that it was getting dimmer and eventually, the driver’s dashboard lit up as he turned on the headlights.

“She is a knockout,” the woman said, breaking the silence.  She reached down and grabbed my left nipple and pulled.  She raised my C-cup breast as far as she could until I finally winced my face and then she let go, which made me sigh in relief.  “Honey, what kind of skin is this?” she said, genuinely curious.  “You have quite the tan.”

“I’m half-Indian and half-white,” I said.

“Well, the mix is appreciated, you have fine breeding, even if you are a tad on the old side.”  The woman looked to be in her late twenties, and I did have to admit that at thirty-six, my age was showing a little.  I nodded, long ago learning that reacting to such bluntness was a mortal sin for the Willow.  This younger woman would always be my superior in the Willow, and the hurt feelings of a submissive were of no concern for her. This would be true for as long as I was a member.  “So what happened?” she asked.  “If you can’t keep a man happy with this body, there’s no hope for anyone over 35.”

“I am divorced,” I volunteered.  My career had always come first in my marriage, and for us children were out of the picture.  In our twenties, childless had meant so much freedom, but by our thirties, my husband had changed.  My mother had said his “biological imperative” set in, and he wasn’t mature enough to know what to do with it.  He would go on to father a child, and while our divorce was final only nine months ago, his child was now a year and a half.  I spared the woman before be the gory details of my marriage.  “It didn’t work out,” I said vaguely.

“Well, you can think of this as a marriage of sorts, one that will most certainly work out for you.  And you’ll get quite the workout tonight.” she winked and giggled at her little pun.

The car stopped, and the driver got out of the car, and opened the back.  This is the first time I had seen the driver and saw that he was a tall African man, must have been at least 6”7’, and looked no older than twenty-five.  He had a completely bald head, and wore a formal business suit with a completely black tie.  The man who had doused my dress with lighter fluid jumped out and the two of them grabbed hold of the base of the board I was strapped to.  There were leather straps underneath, and they pulled the board out, so my body was about halfway out.  They paused to allow the woman and her boyfriend to grab the leather straps on the other corners of the board, and then eased the whole piece out of the van carefully.

The cool night air travelled up and down my entire exposed body, and I instinctively thought to myself that I should have worn a jacket.  I then immediately admonished myself for thinking such a silly thought, and that my comfort was not to be a priority this night, or any other night hereafter.  It was a lesson I would know that I would have to force myself to learn and relearn many times in the years to come.  

I still had no idea where I was, but I did see quite a number of stars, although the night was young, and heard the chirping of crickets and splashing of water in the distance.  In my field of vision there was also a tree, and I could not hear the familiar rumble of any freeway, so I deduced that I was most likely somewhere in the countryside.

The men at my feet, even the one that had ogled me in the van, no longer looked at me as an object of affection, or even something they wanted to fuck.  No, I was now a bit of a problem for them now, as I was helplessly attached to my board, and the four of them would have to carry me somewhere.  “Just to the dock, right?” the man asked.

I turned my head and saw that sure enough, a dock was just ten feet away.  My heart quickened a little as I realized that this dock was not for large boats or even small ferries, but simply for small canoes and little motorboats.  I was a little unsure if they were just going to drop me in the water and see if I floated.  I started breathing harder as we got to the water, terrified of what they may do, but I then retreated back to my training.  Rule #1: The Willow thinks of everything.  I had already decided to lay my life in the hands of the Willow, and these strangers, these were just the consequences of that decision.

As we got to the ramp where canoes would launch from, my board was raised a bit higher, and then set down again, on something inflatable.  I could feel and hear the rubber, and realized my board had rested on an inflatable raft.  My mind then raced at the implication of this, I would be floating tonight, floating down the river, all tied up, for everyone looking to see.  The cover of night would give some measure of modesty, but I was to be set adrift down a river, with no control, no way to steer and no idea of where I was or where I was going.  

All the scenarios of what would happen seemed to form inside my head all at once.  In one, I would get stuck on the side of the river, to be found by hikers taking an evening stroll.  In another, the inflatable raft would graze against a branch, spring a leak, and I would gradually start to sink, helplessly slipping feet first into the icy water. In yet another scenario, I’d go down the wrong fork in a river, take some rides on some rapids and survive, only to be discovered by a family of bears.  These worst case scenarios did terrify me to my core, thinking that this would be the last night of my life, but I soon realized that even these incredibly scary thoughts were not enough to force me to even sit up, or give any sign of protest.  The risk was well worth it, for acceptance into the Willow.

A little cold water was literally splashed across my face, jolting me out of these nightmare scenarios.  A canoe was not resting along side my boat, and I could see that preparations were being made.  So, thankfully, I would not be set adrift, but towed like a tugboat pulling a barge.  The rower of this barge was yet another man, an old grizzled man who looked like a prospector.  He held an old style camping  lantern over my body, getting a good look.

“Wow, that’s quite a nice rope job, she did this herself?” he asked the black man.  

“Yes,” he responded.  “Well, we didn’t do it.”

“And she didn’t give you lip on the way here?”

“Not much,” he responded.  “I think she was a little surprised that we took her car and purse.”

Shit, I thought I had gotten away with that one.  The two continued to talk about my trip over me, like I wasn’t even there or conscious.  The old man asked again, just to confirm, if the others in the van had taken any liberties with me, acts that I would never admit to.

“I was there the whole time, nothing happened, you can check her cunt too.”

“Later, all in good time,” the old man said, climbing into his canoe.  “Off we go,” he proclaimed, using his oar to push his canoe from the ramp and into the water.  I felt the tug of the rope which tethered my raft to his by the end where my head was, and we were off.

He rowed quickly, to get to the normal current, which were nothing rapid at all.  In his rowing, he inevitably scooped up some water and splashed my face.  It only happened about seven times, which led me to believe that each time it had happened, it was done partly on purpose.  I gasped the first time, but made sure not to protest each additional time it happened.  I also kept my wrists perfectly still.

He stopped rowing a bit as we entered the main current, and I relaxed, as much as I could.  The night sky was quite peaceful, and although I was more exposed than I had ever been in my life, I felt safe.  “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” he said, breaking the silence.  His oar continued to be in the water, but it was more for steering now, rather than speed.  “You can talk, you know, we have about fifteen minutes before we get there.”

“I have not been asked any question yet,” I asserted.  My training over the last few months had conditioned me never to contribute too much to a conversation, and speak only when spoken to.
“All right,” he started.  “What’s your name, honey?”

I swallowed hard and smiled.  “I have no name,” I responded.

“Hot damn,” he said, “you’re really all in, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I intend to become part of the Weeping Willow.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have no problems, if you keep doing what you’re doing.  But really, you really don’t want your name anymore?”

“I will keep it as it suits me in my real life,” I said. “But my identity to the Weeping Willow will be the only one that counts.”

“You know, last time I did this, we had a woman that was quite the talker.  I think it was a bit too much for her, not prepared at all.  You know what I did with her?”

“No,” I responded.

“I cut the bitch loose,” he giggled at the thought.  “You should have seen it, I beached the canoe on the side of the river there, untied the straps and said ‘You’re done.’  She ran into those woods, never knew what came of her.”

I had no way of knowing if his story was real, or some ghost story to spook me.  I gave no response except, “I guess I won’t see her tonight.”  

After a few more minutes, we floated into a more deep part of the woods. I could tell that the stars were being obscured more by trees, until I couldn’t see them at all.  We floated effortlessly into an area, shrouded my falling branches, and of course, a giant willow tree which grew up out of the shallow water.  Its tendrils graced over my exposed body, touching me softly.

“We’re here,” the old man said.  He expertly guided the boat so that we were parallel to the shore and then pushed us to a post.  There was a country house in the distance, and four Willow members came out to bring me inside.  Again, they looked at me as a chore, bringing me into the main dining hall, as if I were the main course.  

My board was placed on an incline, so that I could see the entire hall, in which a long table with lots of fine food was laid out.  Each member of the Weeping Willow was there, seated according to their respective leadership roles.  In the middle were the Master and Mistress of the Weeping Willow, and to their sides were men and women dining on the fine food. I scanned the room and saw that over two dozen people were seated, and immediately recognized them all to be dominants or dominatrices.  I thought it to be quite unusual for me to be the only submissive in attendance, but I knew better than to question.
It was at that moment, I saw them.  The table cloth had obscured them, but I noticed a string of feet lined up perfectly, the soles of their feet facing me, which meant they were all kneeling, facing their own masters or mistresses.  Each slave was under the table, either giving pleasure to them orally, or begging for a bite of the fine food that their superiors were feasting on.

Finally, the Master and Mistress acknowledged my presence and I swallowed hard for my final test.  “Welcome, slut.”  The Master rose from the table and walked to where my board was propped up.  The Mistress met him on the other side of me and I looked down dutifully.  I was too close to be caught on a technicality now.

“So, I hear that you are interested in being part of our little social club,” the Master started.  “Tell me, who brought you here, slut.”

“The Mistress known as Vicky,” I said nervously.

“And what were you doing when Vicky first met you?”

“I was shopping, Sir, in a supermarket.”

“And what were you buying?  How did she strike up the conversation?”

I felt ashamed, but I continued.  “I was buying frozen food, dinner for ones, that kind of thing.”

“And why were you buying these pathetic meals?”  the Mistress asked.

I swallowed hard.  “I was alone at the time.  All alone, I had not been on a real date in months.  Vicky saved me from all of that, and for that, I am very grateful to her.”

The Master called Vicky over and she quickly obeyed. She was wearing a long flowing gown, that was quite elegant on her, and I smiled as she approached.  “So this is what you want now?”  the Mistress asked.  She cupped Vicky’s breasts from behind her, and gave her a kiss on the neck.  I stared as Vicky relented and started to kiss her back.  I stood in shock, but I knew this was all part of the process.  Vicky introduced me into the Willow, but she was just a bridge from the vanilla world.  I would have to burn that bridge if I was to continue.

“Answer, slut,” the Master said impatiently.  “Is Vicky the one woman that you want?  Is she what you want for the rest of your life?  Were you always a lesbian like that?”

I knew the Master knew the answers to all these questions, but I continued.  “No,” I said on the verge of tears. “I’m not a lesbian, I just felt an urge to please her.  I don’t want to just please one man or woman anymore.  That part of my life is over.”

“So, you have had sex with Vicky?” the master asked.
“Yes,” I said.  “But that was the last time.  Vicky took me to her place, and had me please her orally, and then she took me to her bedroom and we,” I stopped, making sure what I was about to say was correct.  “We made love,” I confessed.

“Oh,” the Master said.  “So, why did you not continue with that relationship?”

“Vicky gave me the choice,” I said.  “She said either a lifetime with her, or a lifetime in the Willow, not both.”

The Mistress turned Vicky around and pawed her even more forcefully.  She kissed down her neck to her breasts, and started tearing at the clothing.  Vicky’s hands were also exploring the Mistress and the two sank into a make out session on the floor.  Soon, Vicky’s top was off and the Mistress was stepping out of her dress.  “In the words of the slut over there,” the Mistress said, “make love to me, Vicky.”

Vicky smiled broadly. Although she was already a member, having one-on-one sex with the Mistress was a special treat.  “YES!” she exclaimed.  Attacking, the breasts of the Mistress, sucking on the nipples.  The Mistress pulled her from her tits for a second to ask one final question.  “Wait,” she said, “you’ll make love to me in front of her?”

“Of course,” Vicky said.  She turned to me and looked deep into my eyes, to make sure I heard her words exactly.  “She’s just a slut, and meant nothing.  My love for you Mistress is pure, always has been and always will be.”

Vicky quickly tore off what remained of her clothes and embraced the nude Mistress.  They kissed and fondled each other as lovers would, and would bring each other to multiple orgasms in front of me, and the entire assembled hall.  As this lewd show went on, the Master asked.  “So what do you choose, slut?”

This was the question, the moment of truth.  All that had happened to me, from the supermarket, to that magical night with Vicky, to the morning after, to the months of training, to the ropes, to the van, to the raft, to here.  It all meant nothing if I did not take the one final step and declaration. “I choose the Willow!” I exclaimed.  

I knew that these words were the cue for all the dominants and their slaves to rise from there places.  Almost fifty men and women surrounded me, and the men were already fondling themselves, or having their slaves do it for them, to get them ready. They formed a line, nice and orderly, with the Master at the lead.  To the side the Mistress and Vicky were still writhing in passion.

“When you choose the Willow,” the Master said, “you choose all of us.”  The Master then dropped his pants to reveal a large eight inch erection.  It already had a droplet of precum on the head, and I knew it was his right to fuck me first.  “Yes, Master,” I consented.
He eased himself inside me, filling my pussy with a sensation that had not been felt in so long.  Although my night with Vicky was fantastic, there was still nothing like a good hard dick, filling me deep.  I knew that my life with Vicky would always be wanting more, and Vicky knew that my role here, in the Willow, would be far superior that what she could provide.

I panted as the Master finished inside me, and I felt his warm sperm fill me up.  As he stepped back, I felt empty, and was eager for the next one in line.  My face had a content smile on it, like I was high on some sort of drug.  He released the leather straps and I stepped off the board, the line of eager dominants and slaves forming a circle around me.

“Slut,” the Master said. “You just received my cum.  How much more do you want from all of these fine people?”

The answer to this question was easy, and laid out explicitlly in the training.  It had been repeated over and over by countless other submissives I had seen, and I smiled broadly as it was my turn to say it.

“All of it!” I yelled, and the crowd descended upon me.



Read part three, now available:
http://asporina.blogspot.com/2011/08/rope-part-three.html

Rope, Part One

I received the package at work, and thankfully they were right.  It did come in a discreet brown box, and over regular postage, so it blended easily into the additional clutter that was my office.  The only thing that made it stand out, was the tree logo on the side, a weeping willow that at first glance could stand for any paper, gardening supply, or whatever boring company that could be imagined.  Of course, I knew differently.

Inside would be my costume for the evening.  I was given instructions to change into it at work, using the instructions also found inside.  The costume was light enough to be worn under my clothes, yet I was given no clue as to what this costume would be. Fortunately, I am usually the last one out of the office on Fridays, and so the bathroom would be empty.  I would have the whole place to myself, essentially, and could walk out of the bathroom looking relatively normal.

At the end of the day, I closed the last account and stared at the box.  It was still possible for me to back out of it, and I had heard of plenty of women do so after opening their own packages and seeing what was inside, but I was more determined, or so I thought.  Backing out would have no ill effects on me, or my reputation, but the group would fizzle around me.  They had existed in the shadows for over thirty years, and acquisitions (as they called their recruiting process) was practically a science for them.  Kicking me out, while disappointing for me, would still leave my vanilla life intact, but at this point, it would also leave a piece of my soul behind, unused, neglected and unfulfilled.  This group was the best, and I was determined to make it.

I took the box to the women’s bathroom at the end of the hall and opened it with a quick slice of my key.  The box was light to hold, so I was expecting something frilly and lacy inside, but instead all I found was ten feet of rope.

It was the soft variety and I took it out and glared at it, thinking there was some mistake.  The material was soft and I ran it over my arms to make sure it would be soft against my skin, but this certainly was no costume.  It still had a tag from the hardware store it came from!  I checked the inside of the box again, to see if something, anything, additional was inside, but I only found a simple folded sheet of paper.  The letter, addressed to me, confirmed what was before me:

Dear Training Slut,

Here’s your costume for tonight.  We were so impressed with the knot tying skills you demonstrated on Gwendolyn last week that we decided it was best for those skills not to go to waste for your final test of acquisition.  Below is a simple diagram of how this is to be worn, we suggest you follow these instructions as closely as you can.  You will be the guest of honor tonight, and we have such high hopes for you.

Best,

The Masters and Mistresses of the Weeping Willow

I swallowed hard and undid the hardware store packaging around the rope, unraveled it, and laid it on the counter of the sink.  The first instructions were to strip completely, which was no shock to me.  They had told me that my vanilla world clothing would be the first thing to go tonight, so I should not wear anything too costly for me to lose.  I had picked up my outfit at a discount clothing store, and had spent as little as one could and still be street legal.

The simple green dress unbuttoned down the middle, and I dropped it to the floor.  I stood before the bathroom mirror in a bra and panties, my olive skin contrasted nicely against them.  I wasn’t afraid of losing my underwear or bra, as I planned to stuff those in my purse on the way out.  My bra and panties joined the rope on the desk.  “Just trading one set of underwear for another,” I told myself which had a weird calming effect.

I slipped off my pumps, also a disposable pair, and stood naked in front of the bathroom mirror.  I was still fit for my age, and being childless certainly helped me maintain the figure I had. I am half-Indian, half-white and I stand at just two inches shy of six feet.  My friends have all been jealous of me, however, as they moved on with their lives, and all I had to show for mine was a divorce, those relationships strained.  Over time, I found myself either going to bars, trying to meet new friends, or hitting the online dating world hard.  It was only after meeting a woman in the supermarket, with a now familiar weeping willow tattoo on her shoulder, did things really start to click with me.  The group had filled so many voids for me, and after my acquisition tonight, I was eager to start “returning the favor,” as they called it.

I was comfortable with being nude in front of others, as long as the context was understood, but being in the office bathroom in this way did have my heart racing a bit more.  I centered myself on the task at hand, and collected the rope and instructions.  First step was to hang the entire eighteen foot length around the nape of my neck.  Then, three knots down the middle, between my breasts.  The tricky part was the next step, getting the two ends of the rope through my legs, up and around the part that was hanging around my neck.  Watching myself pull this off was mildly embarrassing even if I was the only one to witness it.  

Once this had been done, I pulled the rope down, and the two ends dug into my pussy.  Thankfully I was shaved and waxed bare, but the surprising feeling from the rope did make me jump a bit.  The only rope I had ever tried before had just been at my wrists, a playful exercise with my now ex-husband when we shared a bed, but now, the rope had grown into a full fledged sex partner, wrapping itself around everything.

I followed the instructions for my tits, and wrapped the rope again around to the back.  Over and over this was done until I finally tied everything together at the front.  I tested the ropes which clung to me tightly, every pull sent a small wave of pleasure to my pussy. I admired my handiwork for what turned out to be a minute too long, as I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Maintenance,” the male janitor said from behind the door as he was opening it.  It was completeley innocent, he expected it to be deserted, and I should have left a half-hour ago.  “One second!” I yelled, and thankfully, he stopped opening the door just in the nick of time.  I collected my dress and quickly put it on, quickly getting the buttons together and slipping my shoes on.  I ran out the door, to the sight of the janitor waiting patiently.

“Oh,” I said, clutching my bag.  “Long day.” I said trying to make small talk. I quickly excused myself, and he entered the bathroom.  It was on the ride down the elevator that I realized the buttons on my dress were one off, making it obvious that I had quickly changed.  And to my horror, the bra and panties were nowhere to be found in my bag.  I had ran out of the bathroom without them!

“Too late now,” I decided for myself, and walked out the front door of the building with as much dignity as a woman with no underwear, mismatched buttons, and rope around everything could muster.   

In the parking garage, I walked to the space they had arranged for me to park on the very top.  Normally, I got in early, so I could park in the lower level spaces, but they had insisted I park at the top, next to the stairs for today. There was a black van parked next to my own car, right on time.  A man got out of the van and simply said, “Keys?”  I knew about this part, this man would drive my own car to my home, but I was still taken aback a bit by the command.  He held out his hand, and I gave him my keys, which he snatched readily.  His expression was a bit annoyed as he grabbed for my whole purse, I guess he had expected me to hand the whole bag over.

“Wait, I,” I started instinctively, but shut up quickly as I realized it may be construed as a protest.

“You don’t need any of this where you’re off to.  Don’t worry, I’m taking it to your apartment, it will be safe.”  

I was ready to tell him about my parking lot and how to get there, but he simply climbed in the driver’s seat, threw the purse in the passenger seat, adjusted the mirrors, and took off.  I was still getting myself used to Rule #1: “The Willow thinks of everything.”

The back of the van opened and three other people, one woman and two men, stepped out.  The men were certainly not wearing business clothes, but the jeans and leather they did wear certainly would not get them kicked out of any movie theater.  The woman had a longer dress on, most likely a hold over from a renaissance faire, and her face was heavily made up, which meant she was a Mistress in the Willow.  Submissives, like I hoped to be, had to have enough natural beauty not to need any makeup, and their service usually smudged it.  I was glad I had remembered this in the morning.

“Get in,” the woman ordered.  She had jet black hair, black lipstick, and the whitest face I had ever seen.  She looked at me with a cold stare, daring me to protest.  I complied, expecting the rear doors of van to close behind me, but instead they remained open.  

“Let’s have the dress and the shoes,” the woman said.  I did not know any of these people, and yet, they had robbed me of everything I had, and now they wanted more.  I unbuttoned the dress carefully and opened it, to reveal my ropes and naked body, and then slipped out of my shoes.  I crouched in the van, as there was not enough clearance for me to stand, and to protect myself from the draft of the open air.

She snatched everything and laid the dress on the ground.  She tossed the shoes over the side of the parking garage to get rid of them, which shocked me a bit, but it was a Friday night, and the place was deserted.  As she tossed them, one of the two men took out a can of barbecue lighter fluid and started to drench the dress.  When done, the other lit a book of matches and threw it on the spot.  The green dress effortlessly burst into flames, and the woman gave the match thrower a hug and a kiss.  “I love fire,” she purred.  The trio then climbed into the back with me and the driver of the van took off, leaving my still burning dress on the ground.

I found myself crouched on a large board on the floor of the van, surrounded by my three abductors.  I knew that any questions from me at this moment would first be inappropriate and grounds for more punishment, and unanswered since I was just a training slut.

“Good job with the ropes,” the woman said.  She pulled on the strap around my shoulder blade to test my work.  I felt it all over, my right breast getting most of the force, with my pussy also being stimulated.  I prayed that my pussy would not drip in front of these strangers I was trying to impress.  “We usually don’t ask new sluts to do this, because it’s pretty complicated, but you’re a smarty,” she winked.  “And smart enough to keep your mouth shut too.”

I looked down, knowing that eye contact was routinely forbidden, and to show even more obedience.  The board had four leather cuffs, two along the edges, right in the middle, and the other two at the corners, where the van doors opened.  The woman stood and pushed down on my shoulders, and I complied as I laid down.  My modesty was now completely removed, as the dome light inside the van showed my captors everything I had to offer, and so I swallowed hard and allowed them to gawk.

“Shit, look at that body,” the matches guy said.  “She’s going to be quite nice.”  He stroked by bare arm, which startled me a bit, but I held on to my composure so I did not show a reaction.

“Hey now,” the woman said, “aren’t I enough for you?”

“Of course honey, but c’mon, you want a piece too, don’t you?  It would be a meaningless fuck for me, just exercise for you,” he smiled.

I stared ahead trying to focus on the dim dome light of the van.  His taunts had made me more excited for what was to come.  I knew my place in the Willow, and how I would be the guest of  honor tonight, but his words came off so rough and bare.  I found myself wondering if the three would get too excited, stop the van, and have some fun with me now.  I decided that I would not fight it, even if they were violating the rules of the Willow.  It would be our secret, and I would even accept a punishment if the Willow found me to be impure.  These strangers were delivering me to my destiny, and for that I would help cover whatever rule they wanted to break, with my body being the vessel for their misdeeds.

“Sure, sure,” the woman said.  “Of course, we can’t have the leaders take sloppy seconds, and they’d know.”  The woman then took my ankles and attached them to the corner leather straps of the board.  She stared at my pussy as she strapped me in, probably noticing the lips parting slightly, and swollen from the attention of the ropes.  She then strapped my wrists in place, and I was immobilized on the board.

The rear of the van had no windows and I knew that I had no idea where I was.  They could be driivng around in circles, or be in another state by now, for all I knew.  This was all part of the acquisition, I knew absolutely nothing how or where it would actually take place.  I just knew it would start tonight.


Continued in part two:
http://asporina.blogspot.com/2011/08/rope-part-two.html