A Talent for Surrender (29 page)

She laughed softly. ‘I’ve got more than one, you know . . .’

The woman brought the flogger down across the man’s buttocks. His body jerked against the cross and he let out a deep appreciative groan. She brought the whip down over and over again across his buttocks. The tails landed with a sort of soft whoosh rather than the sharp crack of a whip, but the man’s response told Dan they were no less painful.

Dan could barely breathe. His trapped erection pumped with heat and blood. Confined inside his underwear, the sensation was tantalising and exciting in equal measure. Jo tugged on his lead and they moved on.

The room was filled with the sound of moaning, heavy breathing and creaking leather. A naked girl had been buckled to the whipping bench and a woman in a Morticia Addams dress and a long black wig was thrashing her with what looked like a tawse.

The onlookers were mostly silent, whispering close to each other’s ears when they wanted to speak, as if they didn’t want to break the spell. There was a man in leather chaps and an upper-body harness watching the whipping. Kneeling in front of him was a female slave clad only in a leather G-string eagerly sucking his erect cock.

Leather slapped against flesh. On the whipping bench it was a deeper thud as the tawse made contact with the girl’s naked arse. Dan could see broad scarlet stripes forming on her pale skin and he could almost feel the stinging kiss of the tawse. The girl rocked her hips and he saw her shaven pussy peeking out beneath the globes of her bottom.

The woman on the sling had begun to scream. Dan turned to look and saw that her partner was fingering her clit with his free hand. She was clearly coming, her body thrashing uselessly as the sling creaked and swung. When she finally stopped wailing the man slid out his hand and parted his kilt to reveal his erection. He grabbed her thighs and swung the hammock towards him, embedding his cock in her. Dan couldn’t see which hole he had put it in but he hoped it was her arse.

The slave on the cross was standing with his head bowed as he received his whipping. He seemed to be lost in his own world; subspace Dan knew it was called, a territory of pain, surrender and ecstasy. His buttocks were crimson with patches of dark bruising already beginning to appear.

Dan turned to speak to Jo but she put her hands on his waist and pulled his body hard against hers. She began to kiss him, her mouth hot and wet and hungry. He could feel her breasts pressing against his body. He could feel her heart beating against his.

At the end of the evening they drove home in silence, both of them knowing what was going to happen the moment they were behind closed doors. Back at her flat she led Dan along the corridor and opened a door he had never noticed before. It led to a steep stone staircase. Their high heels echoed as they climbed and the air smelled strange; damp and old with a faint edge of decay.

At the top of the stairs was a locked oak door. Jo retrieved an enormous bunch of keys from a hook on the wall and unlocked the door. She lifted the latch and it opened with a melodramatic creak. Behind the door was a small stone lobby and another door. The lobby was about six feet square with a single window which was barely more than a slit. The floor and walls were crudely carved from stone blocks.

Jo fiddled with the bunch of keys. She opened the door and Dan followed her inside. The room was circular and, in the centre, stood an enormous stone plinth with a carved wooden box resting on it.

The rest of the room was completely plain, carved from rough stone blocks. High up in the wall, at least eight feet from the ground, there were small rectangular windows which let in light.

‘I had no idea this was here. It’s fantastic.’ Dan’s voice echoed.

‘Isn’t it? It’s called a muniment room. In Tudor times they kept their valuables in here.’ She went over and closed the door. ‘I tend to use it for a rather different purpose, however.’ She walked back over to Dan and lifted the lid of the wooden box. ‘This is a quirt.’ She laid a plaited leather whip on the stone plinth.

It was about eighteen inches long with two flat six-inch tails protruding from its tip. Blood rushed to his head. ‘It looks . . . serious.’ He reached out a finger and touched the handle.

‘It’s my favourite type of whip. This particular one is a twelve-plait kangaroo quirt with lead shot in the shaft to give it weight. These two tongues –’ she pointed at the tails ‘– are the business end. It’s not quite as stinging as a single-tail whip, but has less thud than a tawse or a paddle. I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.’ Jo picked up the wooden box and put it down on the floor. ‘Pull down your knickers and bend over this.’

Dan stepped up to the plinth. He pulled his French knickers down to his ankles and leaned across the stone. It was cold and rough against his skin. He laid the front of his body flat across the plinth and turned his face to the side, pressing his cheek against the stone. The musty scent of decay filled his nostrils.

The sound of his excited breathing echoed around the bare room. His cock was already half hard, trapped and uncomfortable inside his gaff. Jo lifted the back of his skirt, uncovering his naked arse.

He waited. He could hear her heels clip-clopping against the stone floor. An insistent beat of arousal thumped in his groin. He closed his eyes. He felt the soft tips of the quirt trailing over his naked arse. He shivered.

‘You look quite beautiful like that. Sort of vulnerable . . . lying there all naked and expectant . . . utterly at my mercy. Somehow it fills me with tenderness and it almost seems too cruel to beat you.’ The quirt tails teased the crack of his arse. ‘Almost . . . but not quite.’

Dan heard a short breathy sound like someone exhaling hard. It was immediately followed by a stinging moment of agony as the quirt made contact with his buttocks. His body jerked forwards, banging the front of his legs against the plinth.

The quirt delivered a focused sting which burned for a second and instantly dissolved into delicious pleasure. Jo gave him half a dozen strokes in quick succession. Dan’s body slammed forwards against the cold hard stone over and over again. Beneath his female clothes he’d begun to sweat and his wig felt itchy and uncomfortable. He pulled it off and dropped it onto the plinth. His arse was on fire.

Jo made a little guttural grunt each time she brought the whip down. He imagined that she, too, had grown hot and uncomfortable. He pictured her chest gleaming with sweat as she raised the quirt.

Jo brought the whip down across the top of his thighs and he cried out. Somehow the flesh there was more sensitive. She laid her free hand on the small of his back, holding him down, and thrashed his thighs with the quirt.

He held onto the edge of the stone, bracing himself. He felt overloaded with sensory input, sharp stinging pain, heat and tingling pleasure. He couldn’t separate the individual components. All he knew was that his body was alive with intense wonderful sensation.

His cock was fully hard in its elastic confinement, straining against the strong material. The smell of his own sweat mingled with the musty aroma of the stone. He gripped the edge of the plinth, his back arched and his bottom raised for the quirt.

She whipped him hard. Dan knew that his pale skin would be embroidered with cruel raised red slashes. There might even be patches of purple bruises by now. He imagined Jo admiring her work as she wielded the whip, deciding that the pattern would look better if she lashed him in a particular spot.

A stroke landed across the centre of both buttocks. The sting took Dan’s breath away, and almost immediately he felt an electric jolt of incredible pleasure in the same spot. A wave of heat and exhilaration crashed over him. His cock ached.

Jo whipped him savagely with the quirt. Her arm must ache by now and the exertion had probably made her sweat. Dan imagined the front of her hair coming loose and falling over her face as she lashed his arse.

His body was rigid and trembling. His abused skin tingled and blazed. He dug his fingers into the lip of the stone plinth, bracing himself in expectation of delicious pain.

She slashed him hard across the top of both thighs. It burned for an agonising moment and, almost before he had time to register the pain, it became pure profound pleasure. Shivery tingles slid up his spine.

He felt Jo’s hand on his arse. She ran the tips of her fingers over his skin, touching and gently stroking his weals. Dan arched his back and let out a long, satisfied sigh. She unhooked the back of his gaff then reached beneath him to free his erection from the elastic pouch.

He gasped as her warm fingers made contact with his rigid cock. She stroked up and down its length then pulled his foreskin down hard. He shuddered.

‘You shouldn’t have stopped whipping me . . . it was incredible.’ Dan’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

‘There will be plenty of time for that later. Let’s get you out of your clothes. Quickly.’ Jo released his cock and Dan felt cheated.

Dan straightened up slowly. He felt dizzy and lightheaded so he leaned on the edge of the plinth for support. Jo unzipped his dress at the back and he pushed it down over his arms and let it drop to the floor. She unhooked his long-line bra and he pulled it off. He peeled off his fake breasts. He unhooked his stockings from his suspenders then undid his waspie corset at the front and dropped it on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and took off his stockings.

His cock stood out in front of him, dark and pumped with blood. Jo looked down at his cock then back up to his face. She smiled.

‘Follow me.’ She opened the door.

She led him out of the flat and through the hall into the school. She took him into the boys’ toilet and told him to wash off his make-up. He bent over the low sink, using the harsh school soap to wash his mascara-streaked face.

When he was clean, Jo led him through a maze of corridors. She walked ahead of him, striding along like a soldier on parade, her high heels clip-clopping noisily against the tiled floor.

She stopped outside one of the doors and waited for Dan to catch up with her. As he reached her he saw that it bore a sign printed with the words ‘Medical Room’. Dan’s heart seemed to leap into his throat. His cock twitched. Jo pushed open the door and they stepped inside. Dan noticed that the light was already on.

Jo led him across the room, which seemed to be a small office, towards another door which, the sign announced, was the examination room. As Jo led him into the room he realised that it was already occupied. Blood rushed to his head. His crotch ached.

The examination room was tiny, with only room for a high leather-topped examination couch covered with a sheet of paper and a trolley of equipment. At the foot of the couch was a single chair. Standing beside the trolley was a young man in a pair of combat shorts and a slashed sleeveless punky T-shirt bearing a picture of Jo Strummer from The Clash. His arms, legs and his shaven head were all covered in complex tribal tattoos. He was wearing latex gloves and he was fiddling with the instruments on the trolley.

‘Hi, Jo. Everything’s ready.’ He turned to smile at Jo and Dan noticed that he had a disc as big as a ten pence piece through each ear lobe and a metal bar through his nasal septum. A cold shiver of excitement and anxiety slid along Dan’s spine.

‘Climb up onto the couch please, Dan,’ Jo instructed.

Dan mounted the couch and lay down. He felt vulnerable and uncertain and bursting with excitement. His cock stood upright, pointing at the ceiling.

‘I’ve arranged for Egg to pierce your nipples.’ Jo stepped over to the couch and laid a hand on his thigh. Dan could feel her body heat sinking into him.

‘Do I get an anaesthetic?’ He could hear the alarm in his own voice. Jo slowly shook her head. Dan noticed that she was smiling.

‘No, mate. It’s all in the breathing. If you follow my instructions you’ll be all right.’ Egg swabbed Dan’s chest with alcohol. It felt cold and slightly stingy. Dan felt his nipples begin to harden.

‘That shouldn’t present him with any problem. He rather likes following orders, as a matter of fact.’ Jo stroked his thigh.

Egg chuckled. ‘You don’t say . . .’ He picked up a medical instrument, like a pair of scissors with a small loop at the tip of the blades. ‘This is a clamp. I clamp your nipple then put the needle through the hole . . . simple.’ He pinched Dan’s right nipple between thumb and forefinger then applied the clamp.

Dan gasped. The cold metal bit into his skin, making it burn and tingle. His cock seemed to grow an inch.

‘People often tell me the clamp hurts worse than the piercing.’ Egg repeated the process on the other side. ‘I put the needle through first . . .’ He held it up for Dan to see. ‘Then I put the jewellery through.’ He picked up a heavy gold ring. ‘This is what Jo’s chosen for you. I think it should look good. Are you ready?’

Dan nodded. Blood pounded in his ears. His heart thumped.

‘Breathe in slowly . . . a nice long deep breath.’ Egg positioned a thick hollow needle against Dan’s nipple through the hole in the clamp.

Dan took a long slow breath.

‘Now breathe out . . .’

Dan complied. He closed his eyes.

‘Now, a nice slow deep breath in . . . that’s it.’ Egg slid the needle through Dan’s nipple. There was a second of biting pain and heat followed by a rush of relief and endorphins that made Dan feel dizzy. Egg fiddled with his nipple, pushing the ring through and twisting the ball closure closed.

Dan continued to breathe deeply. He could feel Jo’s warm soft hand on his thigh. He gasped as her fingers slid across to his erection and began to stroke it.

‘OK . . . same thing for the other one. Some people say it hurts worse than the first one because you know what to expect but it’s over in a second. Are you ready?’

Dan nodded. He could feel crinkly paper and warm leather under his body. Jo’s hand slid lazily up and down his cock. His pelvis was tight and tingling. His newly pierced nipple burned.