ARKTOS’ OWN
aureaslave
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Session Time With "Uncle Tommy"
Standing in the cold apartment hallway, waiting those few seconds for the door to open, my mind was shouting “WHAT am I DOing? WHAT am I DOING?” the door opened and there stood MasterTom or “Uncle Tommy” as he said he liked to be called. I recognized him at once, even though I hadn’t been able to bring his face to mind.
“Jel! Come in, come on in.” He said, bustling me inside. “Let me have your coat.” He added as a matter of habit reaching for me. “Did you wear a coat?” Tommy withdrew realizing his error. “Oh, I was out earlier,” he said, ”you must be warmer than I am.”
“Don’t count on it.” I laughed, flexing my sweatered elbows up from my folded arms. “I just hate coats.” And I clapped my gloved hands together.
“Well” Tommy grasped the end of my scarf. “Let me help you with your,” and he gestured to lift it off my neck, “things, and we’ll have a bite. Lasagna okay?”
I had several inches on Tommy so I ducked my head to help him remove the scarf as I handed him my gloves. I could already see that the bedroom was laid out with candles and ropes on the bed, and my heart was racing. It was hard to think of lasagna, knowing what was to come. That was a red flag; I *knew* it was stupid to engage in bondage with someone unknown the first time without a chaperone or someone looking out for you, yet there were ropes on the bed. I had come to Tommy’s house to play, and it was clear to see what he wanted, and I had to wonder what I had walked into. I wadded up my "red flag" and tossed it in the proverbial corner.
We ate. Turns out the man could build a mean lasagna. Who knew? We talked a lot about his job and what he had done in the past, what I’ve been doing and hobbies of mine. The problem came when he offered me a drink. I’ve been told, no alcohol when scening. No altered states or out of control conditions.
“No really,” he was saying, “I’m just drinking Scotch,” I knew he’d been drinking something because he was just that bit of loose and lushy, but still functional. “I’ll fix you whatevcr you want. Trust me, I’ve probably got it. Maybe not your brand, but I can fix you your drink.”
“That’s alright.” I answered, thinking about the rule against getting out of control before playing. That was a red flag. “I don’t really drink.”
“Are you sure I can’t fix you something? How about juice? Can I get you some juice?”
I thought for a minute and found myself requesting a screwdriver. Tommy quickly set to pouring together the vodka and orange juice, while I was silently questioning why I had said that. I rarely drank, and why now? What was it about Uncle Tommy that seemed so mesmerizing?
“You ready?” he asked, gesturing with the glasses in his hands and a nod of his head toward the doorway.
“Oh sure. Lead on.” I answered. I was nervous about being there, but at the same time, so far, everything had been so easy and relaxed, what did I have to feel nervous about?
Tommy led the way around the corner into the living room of the two bedroom apartment where he sat the screwdriver on the coffee table and had a seat on the couch. I stood opposite him waiting for cues as to what to do next.
“Now you said,” Tommy began, pondering his scotch, “that you had hard limits about collars and choking, and gags, because of your breathing problems.”
I nodded. “Yes. Can’t handle anything that might possibly interfere with breathing.”
“Well, those are your limits.” Tommy said. “And since you’ve told me what your limits are, from now on, you’re going to trust me to tell whether or not a limit is being crossed, because I can tell. I have the experience to know how to read you and what you can handle and what you need.”
To that announcement, I rebelled. “No, I really cannot handle anything that messes with my breathing.”
“Right. And I’ve said as much already. And unless I decide there are no other limits, from this point onward.” That was a red flag. The dominant seemed just a shade testy, but it seemed fleeting. It didn't even occur to me that he wasn't allowing me a "safe word."
“Let’s see what you brought.” He said.
I went back to the front door and grabbed the two bags I’d brought with me, as instructed, my toy bag, and my rope bag. Placing them on the table in front of Tommy, I started to open the toy bag to go through it and start telling him the provenance of each item but he stopped me and said he would go through it. I circled back to sit on the other end of the couch, but he stopped me.
“Don’t sit.” He said simply, but with a different tone in his voice. When I looked at him quizzically he added “Take your clothes off.”
I had a sudden head rush, and a cold pit formed in my stomach. I was trembling and fingered the hem of my sweater. I pulled it over my head, then shook it out and folded it.
“Faster.” He insisted, without looking at me, removing the toys from the bag one by one.
The black blouse was quickly unbuttoned and joined the sweater on the couch. My skirt was the next quick casualty, and the slip. I thought for just a moment about getting out of my stockings and garterbelt, but since I couldn’t sit down, I reached behind me and unfastened the hook. This let the whole thing be lowered forward so I could slide my stockings down still fastened to the belt. I slipped my shoes off and added the stockings to the pile of clothing. I stood there in panties and bra, waiting for acknowledgement before stripping completely.
“I need cigarettes.” Tommy stood and stepped around the coffee table. He looked me up and down critically as he walked around me. “Naked.” He said and disappeared into his bedroom.
“Okay,” I thought, “he’s seen the rolls of white flesh and he’s not running. His loss” He had talked at dinner about how we would go places and how he’d like to design clothes for me to make, but now he’d seen me naked, or almost, and it didn’t seem to phase him. I hooked my thumbs in the waist of my underwear and pulled them down, stepping out. I was unfastening my brassiere when Master Tommy returned.
Tommy came back in with a new pack and a freshly lit cigarette. He was wearing a short black kimono and silk boxer shorts. He laid the pack on the table and tapped his ash. He also stopped to pick up his scotch. Gesturing at my screwdriver and he said “Drink. We’re getting started now, and I want you ready to go.”
I dutifully picked up my drink and took a sip. “Wow” I thought. Master Tommy mixed a stiff drink. All of the caveats against playing when alcohol was a factor flashed through my mind and I effectively erased the board. I took another sip of the drink and choked it down figuring that if nothing else it would keep my throat clear.
Master Tommy was at my side and he told me to kneel. I dropped to my knees facing him and he said I should face the back of the couch. He pulled a scarf from the table with a clattering of assorted toys. The scarf, folded, found its way over my eyes where it was tied in place behind my head. He checked with me, and deciding it was good, gave his next instruction.
“Bend over, across the seat.” I started to comply and he added, “on your elbows. That’s alright.” Doing so, moved me directly into the couch on his left side. “That’s good.”
I relaxed completely. Finally I was in a scene situation with an experienced dominant and that knowledge gave me peace of mind that allowed me to settle in an easy feeling, when …
WHAP! The paddle landed hard on my butt cheek. “Sonofabitch! That was a hard shot! He just needs to figure his…” WHAP! “Sonofabitch! …range! Shit!” Thankfully the second shot hit on the other hip, but it was just as hard as the first strike. WHAP! The third stroke just as hard, moved again, but just as hard again. The fourth strike and so on.
Oh, man! What had I done to deserve this? Tears had sprung to my eyes by the third strike of the paddle, and it felt like he was trying to drive me through the back of the couch. From the feel of it, that would be the ping-pong like paddle. No one had ever used it to cause pain like this, never. I had lost track of the number of blows that fell. Finally, they mercifully stopped. I tried to hide my sobs, but I knew I couldn’t completely. Besides, I was sure he had probably already heard me gasping with the blows.
“Beautiful,” Tommy cooed. He ran his hand down my hot backside, rubbing circles on my ass cheeks. “Straighten up.” Came the order. He helped me raise to the vertical. Momentarily my mind was taken from my sore tush when my right nipple was seized. “Turn around.” He said, pulling me toward the table. The right nipple was released and the left nipple was seized. Tugging on it, Master Tommy tucked me up to the end of the coffee table. “Here,” He said, “drink,” And offered me another sip of the screwdriver.
Next I heard the scrabbling noise of items on the table being searched and moved. These sounds were followed by the snap of a cigarette lighter. My right breast was pulled closer to the left side and the area around the areola was pinched up. A clothespin was applied directly. Four more places were pinched up and clothespins attached before he moved on to doing the same on the left breast.
Both tits were a burst of sensation when each nipple was pinched and lifted. The weight of the breasts hung from the nipples. Then they were left alone once again briefly and there was the scratch of something being lifted from the table. Another pinch of the nipple on the right, and then came the very hard pinch of a clamp being settled on the nipple. Next was the pinch on the left nipple and a clamp was applied. The pain was exquisite; the pain was harsh.
There was a chain between the nipple clamps, and that chain was being lifted. “Come on, stand up.” Tommy ordered. The pain fairly danced back and forth between the breasts and the clamps and the clothespins. I struggled to my feet and waited to see what was next. It didn’t take long.
There was a brush on my arm; there was a brush on my collarbone. A lick of one of my floggers hit the opposite arm. I stood as still as possible. Uncle Tommy was finding his range as he licked with strikes around the fringes. I was afraid he was going exactly where he began to hit next. The flogger struck a clothespin and it snapped off and went flying. Snap! Another clothespin flew from the opposite breast. Each pin flicked off caused a new bite of pain.
Gasps escaped me as each pin flew. The game continued with a windmill of flogging, the tails barely touching skin, as they whipped off one pin after another. The nipple clamps or the chain would get caught and cause a great wrenching explosion of sensation accompanied by a noisy sucking in and panting of the cool air.
“Beautiful.” Tommy would repeat whenever the bite seemed to be its most extreme. “Beautiful.” Finally all that was left was the pair of nipple clamps and the chain that connected them.
Master Tommy led or towed me to a clear corner that I figured would give him room to maneuver without hitting anything. He placed me and I felt him measure his space. Then WHAP! A flogger blow across the shoulders nearly took me off my feet. He moved me to place my hands against a chair back. WHAP! After re-establishing range, the blows began to fall rapidly, raining from both sides a little unevenly. All down my back and butt the hard and stinging shots flew fast. “You’re supposed to avoid the kidney zone.” I thought and was rewarded with an extra sting in the crease below the asscheeks.
I was crying out on a regular basis. My head was anyplace but where I suspected the holy grail of subspace to be. My thoughts were all over the map. Didn’t he have neighbors? Wasn’t he worried about his neighbors on a Sunday afternoon? Where were his neighbors and why weren’t they worried about all this noise. Was he just some kind of sadist? Did he honestly think this is what I wanted? Did he think this is what I needed?
It seemed to go on forever, then just as suddenly as it had started, the assault was over. I was wracked with sobs and Uncle Tommy just kept saying “Beautiful.” He took me by the hand and spun me slowly. “Very nice,” he said, running his hands over me. He ran his hands up the sides of my breasts and carefully took the nipple clamps and simultaneously pinched the two of them, opening the bite and twisting them to get them free of the skin sticking to them. I gasped at having the tension removed so swiftly after all this time.
Tommy didn’t give me time to think about the pain sensation radiating from my nipples. He shot a hand down my belly and stuck it between my legs, feeling for the slipperiness there. “Why you naughty slut,” he purred. “You’re all ready to go aren’t you?” I didn’t know if it was a rhetorical question or one that begged an answer, but I was too off guard to answer anyway. I wondered if he meant he was ready for sex, or if I was? I was too confused at the moment.
“Here,” Tommy offered, taking my hands in his. “I want you to climb up on this chair and lean over the back.” He steered and directed me. “Just kneel on the seat.” He said. “Here, just lay across the back.”
I settled as I was told, and Master Tommy went to the table for his next choices. ”Beautiful.” He repeated, back running his hand over my tender butt. “Just beautiful.” I felt a probing between my legs and there came a steady pressure against the vagina. The steady pressure gave way to a slight pumping and suddenly there was a feeling of fullness. Uncle Tommy seemed to find it humorous that I had a butt plug in my cunt. Tommy smeared his fingers with my juices and smeared them around my puckered anus. He popped the butt plug from my vagina and began to press it against my sphincter to try and seat it home.
I had liked the full feeling of having the butt plug inside me, and didn’t like it when it had been removed. However, when Tommy started to reseat it where it was designed to go, I welcomed it by pushing back. He easily got the plug started, then kept up a steady pressure until it popped into place. He immediately set about fucking me with a dildo, already pulled from my toys.
It felt good to not be getting hurt again. Besides that, it felt good! I was clenching my ass around the butt plug and taking in all the strokes of the dildo. For once, Tommy didn’t seem set to put me through the furniture, but had settled on a nice rolling stroke. With his other hand he started rubbing my clitoris. The combination built to a lovely climax contrasting sharply with the ache burning my backside. As I whimpered through my orgasm, Tommy stopped and tenderly stroked my ass. Just when I settled down to a more even breathing he beat a sudden rapid tattoo with his hands, cupped and loud. I howled with the shock.
“Beautiful.” Tommy said. “Beautiful. I have to catch this. You have to see how beautiful you are.” I had no idea what he was talking about now, and I didn’t think I could at the moment. I heard him go into the closed bedroom, heard the lightswitch, heard more movement and then he had returned. Again he was caressing my buttocks and I braced for an assault that was not forthcoming this time. Instead there was a snap and the electric hum of an instant camera. “Beautiful,” and there came another snap. The dildo was gone, and then suddenly the comfort of the anal plug was gone.
“Oh. My darling. You are positively beautiful.” Tommy took my hand from the chair back and pulled me around to face him. He pulled my face to his and kissed me deeply, his tongue probing mine. He tasted strongly of the scotch he’d been drinking, and I didn’t care for the taste, but there was no mistaking the passion of the kiss. He slipped the blindfolding scarf off my head and backed up to the couch, leading me with him.
Master Tommy stepped up on the seat of the couch and dropped his shorts. His cock poked proudly from his open robe as he sat on the back of the couch. Without saying a word, his intention was clear. I dropped to my knees and leaned in to reach the head of his penis with my tongue. “That’s it,” he said, and I bowed to my task. He was not heavily endowed which let me take all of him in my mouth without struggle. I was surprised that even though he was clean, he tasted of the alcohol in his system. It was a treat to go down on him, I loved the feel of his silken cock against my tongue.
Blowjobs had always been a favorite, so this was no exception. I was squirming in my place, shifting my hips as I sucked Master Tommy’s cock. Playing with the head, the coronal ridge, flicking my tongue under the head, swallowing it whole, I was about to climax again when Tommy grabbed my head and shot his load. It was bitter with the taste of alcohol and I swallowed it quickly. “Oh my God,” I thought. “If I can taste it in his cum, he’s in worse shape than I thought.”
I held his member in my mouth sucking up every bit of his fluids. He cautioned me to be gentle. “Watch your teeth.” He added and he was satisfied that I was done. Tommy pushed me away. “You have my permission to stand.” When I stood, he used one foot to hook his briefs, picking them up with his toes. “You’re free.” He said, pulling them on. He stepped from the couch and picked up the remains of his scotch. Kissing me lightly with scotch re-hydrated lips he whispered “You are beautiful.” Then excitedly he asked if I had seen the pictures?
Tommy turned to the table and shifted a few of its contents “Well wait, I’ve got to have a cigarette.” He tapped out a new one and lit it. After a satisfying drag, he returned his attention to the table and its contents. “Here. Look. You’re beautiful.” He presented two pictures of my butt and backside, covered with red spots and bruises. “and that’s beautiful?” I wondered to myself. “You Sir, don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Would you like another drink?” Uncle Tommy asked, returning to his role as host.
“I’m fine.” I still stood there naked, not sure what to do. We hadn’t made it to the bed yet, which Tommy had pre-laid with ropes to tie four-point bondage. We hadn’t had sex, if that’s what he wanted. Or, maybe, now that he had seen me naked and watched my body, he wouldn’t consider the play he’d intended before I arrived.
“Could I offer you some chips?”
“No, really, I don’t need anything to eat.” I’m thinking there’s still more to come.
Tommy wandered back into the kitchen and refilled his scotch. “You’re sure I can’t interest you in something.” He called.
“I’ve still got my drink from earlier.”
Tommy came back in and sat. He patted the seat beside him and suggested I get a towel from the bathroom for the seat and join him. He thought we could just cuddle and watch television together. At some point I donned my sweater. There was no sex, no four point bondage. My toys were packed back up and around 2:30 in the morning I went home.
I was thoroughly intoxicated by the control that Tommy had over me simply because I had given it to him. “Intoxicated by submission.” It was also true that even though I always thought in terms of “Why, did he do that? Why, did he hurt me?” it was true that I was never bound by anything but my own attitude. I could have left at any time. And I wouldn’t have kept trying to go back.
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