BDSM Library - Falling into Temptation

Falling into Temptation

Provided By: BDSM Library

Synopsis: Sally finally meets her online Master; and afterwards, her conscience struggles with her sense of completeness.

Walking on loose gravel in five inch heels certainly poses a challenge for this
girl, Sally thought as she stepped carefully to the unfamiliar front door. A
moment to catch her breath, tidy a strand of hair that threatened to fall loose,
automatically putting the fingers of her right hand to where the little golden
cross would hang above her breasts. Ah, yes, she had removed it by order...
another little detail attended to, preparing for this adulterous moment. The
trick is, to do what is required and not think too much. There. No sooner had
she pressed the bell with a finely manicured nail than the door swung open and
any illusion of being in control finally evaporated. Master in the flesh, at
last for real, bowing ironically as she stepped over the threshold.  Her heart
rate went up alarmingly as the door closed. The hallway was dark: mahogony
stairs, smell of polished wood. The dice are cast.

"May I take your coat, Sally?" he asked, close behind her, startling her with
his warm voice.  Automatically, she unbuttoned and held it back by the lapels.
As he expertly slipped the coat off her arms she felt the cold steel of
handcuffs against her wrists. Her coat dropped to the floor as the cuffs

She looked over her shoulder at her Master in horror, but he only smiled as he
picked up her coat and put it on a hanger.

"I know you're sensitive about handcuffs" he said smilingly, touching her
shoulder lightly "so I thought I'd just slip these on very quickly at the start. 
Don't worry - they're professional quality... good Victorian engineering."

Great, she thought as he escorted her up the staircase to the first floor.  All
she needed was to be put in the same handcuffs as generations of murderers,
arsonists and rapists.  She felt the iron against her wrists.  It'd be ok so
long as she kept her wrists turned in.  Which of course made her bust more
prominent.  She began to regret a lot of things, not the least putting on a 36C
bra this morning as Master had requested when common sense indicated she should
have gone for her normal D cup.

So here she was, pulse throbbing, mouth dry, back against the wall.  Her Master
stood in front of her.  You wanted this, she told herself firmly.  This man has
won your trust.  Memories of other smiling confident men who had won and
betrayed her trust one way or another in years before passed through her mind. 
The panic you feel is not because you are standing in a very vulnerable position
in front of a comparative stranger who told you a long time ago there were to be
no limits.  It's because you don't know how this smiling sonofabitch is going to
let you down. Right.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt his
hands run over her body as if she was a piece of furniture he had just
purchased.  Oh God, she prayed.  Let this one be good to me afterwards.  Please,
God. Trust.

"Open your eyes, Sally, I want you to watch me as I play with you."
"Yes sir" she replied automatically.  His long fingers reached for her skirt and
lifted it, feeling for her thighs.
"Good.  Suspenders and stockings... and what's this... French knickers... very
good, slave Sally. Are the stockings silk?" he passed his hand down her leg to
her knee "Yes they are.  Nice makeup." His hands left her skirt and held her
head against the wall by her throat.  "I appreciate it when a slave tries her
best.  Don't put so much blusher on next time, Sally.  You look very red."
"I... my cheeks are hot, Master" she mumbled.
"What's that? Hot flushes at your age?  Let's see what you have on here..." his
fingers expertly undid the buttons of her blouse and pulled it out of her skirt. 
Oh he can see now, she thought.

He gave an admiring murmur and passed his hand gently over her full breasts.
"Bit tight up there, are we?  Well, I do appreciate the effort.  Let's get rid
of this skirt... that's better... matching knickers and garter belt, I approve."
Sally felt her skirt fall to the floor and her Master put his hand underneath
her voluminous knickers, and felt between her legs.

"I'm really going to have to request you to shave yourself between your legs" he
said, almost in a conversational tone.  He pulled down her knickers to her knees
and tweaked some of her pubic hair.  "Ugly stuff.  Loose marks, Sally.  Bad
luck." She saw him squeeze her breast over the brassiere.  His fingers groped
inside and her breast suddenly popped out.  Her nipple was hard, a treacherous
little sliver of flesh.  His finger grazed over it as he watched her face for a
reaction.  She remained stony faced.  He pinched it, and the pain made her

"That's better" he said.  "Normal reaction.  I was beginning to think you might
have been anaesthetised, Sally.  Now I hope this blouse wasn't expensive..."
with mounting horror she saw him wave a pair of cutting scissors in front of her
nose, then the cold of the metal against her shoulder.  Their sharp edges made
short work of her sleeves, and he pulled the blouse off greedily, exposing her
body underneath.

"Oops, yes it was expensive" he said, looking at the label.  He threw the shreds
to the floor. "More bad luck, slave Sally.  Dear oh dear, so much bad luck
you're getting today.  I bet you wish you never came.... ha ha... now, let's get
your knickers off... that's it... raise that elegant foot... yes... and there
you are in the classic attire for a subbie. All precisely as ordered of course,
but so few slaves know how to take orders... for the first time, at any rate.
Now.  First of all a blindfold...."

"Please sir..." she wailed in a low voice more out of a sense of form than
anything else.  Next to handcuffs, blindfolds were her worst nightmare. He knew
that too of course. They had spent hours online discussing her intimate secrets.
She felt the black leather over her face, and heard him fumble with the straps. 
She tried to look down.  No, she couldn't even see an edge at the bottom of the
mask.  These were good quality stuff.  She felt a hand over her arm, urging her
forward. Another arm over her waist sliding softly down to her hip.

"Come on, walk this way, Sally. I'll make sure you don't fall.... trust me...
lift your feet a bit more... round here... " she felt him turn her round and
then she felt her back against another wall.  She was aware of one of her
breasts poking out.  One of the straps of her garter belt... at the front...
seemed to have broken loose under her Master's elegant handling.  She wondered
if he liked the mess he had made of her. No limits seemed to apply to clothing
as much as her body, she thought, almost hysterical.

"Well now" she heard him murmur into her ear, the scent of his body suddenly
sharp in her nostrils.  "I really hope you are not going to enjoy the next few
hours as much as I will."


Watched by her Master, she padded naked around the room and collected the
discarded bits of her clothes clutching them to her chest (her breasts still
throbbed a bit but it was bearable she decided.)  She opened the door
cautiously. Aha, this was the corridor.  The room she had been in before was at
the other end... she heard him behind her, stalking her.  She picked up her
knickers and skirt.  The blouse was ruined, completely.  She turned round and
saw him smiling at her in his jeans and white shirt, a little tuft of black
chest hair showing at the opening at the top. She longed to touch it, to stroke
it gently...

"I thought you might be upset" he said.  "So I bought this for you.  I hope it
fits, looks like you told me the truth about your sizes."  Like a magician, he
unfolded a long creamy white blouse of silk, with mother-of-pearl buttons down
the front.  She gasped.  "Master!"  He drew her naked body to him again, and she
felt his hand caress her hot bottom as he stroked her face.

"Did you think I'd leave you half dressed, little slave?" he asked, mocking
gently.  "Here you are.  Your poor old hubbie won't notice the difference, you
have so many clothes."

The mention of her husband cut her like a knife across her stomach.  As she sat
down on the edge of a wooden chair (ouch!) naked in front of him she saw him
smiling. Oh, he knew how to inflict pain she realised.  His touch was as
expertly sure as his command of words. And as she drew her stockings on her long
elegant legs she realised that for the first time in her married life, she had
been unfaithful. She was glad Master had told her not to wash after he had
finished with her, the smell of his semen mixed with her sweat and vaginal
juices... and that slightly sticky feeling... she would have felt awful had she
been clean. Slut. So smell like one, too.

She put on garter belt and clipped it, mechanically, got up and stepped into her
knickers.  Then her skirt, doing up at the back... faithless whore... how
different was this to the way she had prostituted herself on the web, she
thought.  Bra. Oww. Take off as soon as you get home. She shrugged on the new
blouse.  Less than two hundred quid an hour, all told, she thought to herself as
she mentally price tagged the blouse, her first gift from Master.  Sluts run
cheap?  Nice material, though.  He was still watching her.

"God, you're beautiful" he said.

She blushed.  Poor man, being so kind to make her feel better.  She thought of
her two little boys, at this hour tucked safe in bed she hoped by the baby
sitter.  At least she wouldn't have to face him at home tonight, no chance he
might notice her bruised and battered body underneath the plain cotton
nightdress she had laid out for herself that morning.  Faint bruises on her
wrists as well, bother.  Long sleeves tomorrow. She faced herself in the mirror
and adjusted her makeup with her fingers, seeing him standing behind her,
smiling, searching out her eyes.

Then they were by the front door and their first encounter was drawing to a
close.  She felt him slide her coat on, wordlessly.  She loved the sensual feel
as a man helped her on with her coat.  Do up buttons, pick up handbag.  She
glanced down at herself for a final check as she walked to the door he was
opening for her.

"Write to me every day and tell me how the old body's healing." She nodded.
"We'll pm later this week, usual time.  Wait for me. If I'm late you are not to
chat with anyone else or enter a room."

She stepped over the threshold in her high heels.  Bloody gravel again, worse
now it was dark. She sat into her car, and he gently shut the door for her. She
smiled up at him through the window and decided not to take the shoes off to
drive. She'd just start the engine and go.  Gawd, there he was, waving his arms
at her.  Oh oh.  Thank you Master, would have had a nasty little scrape there...
She let the traffic pass taking a deep breath to relax.  Then there was a gap,
and she powered into it, seeing him in the rear mirror standing at the kerb,
waving to her.

Unfaithful bitch you are, she said to herself. Her husband would be back next
weekend.  Bruises and those little cuts would have mostly healed by then but he
preferred to make love to her with the light off anyway. Lots of vitamin C and
warm baths.  She promised when he returned she would give herself to him as she
had never given herself before. Lovely reliable man. Her Master owned her but he
had never said anything about not pleasuring her husband.  Don't forget to keep
both sides buttered, she told herself.  Her Master had re-awakened her and once
again she remembered herself as she had been when younger: a valuable commodity:
cute piece of subbie ass. As now.  She was lying in her own bed in her
comfortable cotton nightdress watching the moon cast its beams through the sash
window curtains drawn back to the night over the carpet and spilling onto the
duvet cover in the neat and tidy bedroom she had painstakingly put together for
her married life.  The moon... all things changeable and false.  She fingered
her little cross back again in place around her neck I wonder if my Master is
watching the same moon she wondered idly as she fell asleep or my husband both
of them damn lucky to have me I feel wonderful damn do I love the feel of those
bruises on my body again...

Review This Story || Email Author: Michelle Byssom