VOY­AGE INTO WORLD The plea­sure came through in waves


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IT wasn’t long be­fore I vis­ited my first S&M dun­geon...and I was ter­ri­fied!

The adren­a­line was mak­ing my hands shake. What the f** was I do­ing? Was this what I wanted?

A brunette dressed in a skin-tight rub­ber dress and a pair of painfully high black heels was lead­ing a man around the room on his knees by a leash.

Ev­ery one of the 30-strong crowd crammed inside the dimly-lit room was dressed in some man­ner of fetish gear.

They all seemed like they knew each other. Apart from Ka­rina – who was hold­ing the end of a dog leash she had at­tached to the col­lar around my neck – I didn’t know any­one.

Even if things went well, there was a lot of pain com­ing my way. But some­thing was mak­ing me stay.


Ever since my ear­li­est sex­ual ex­pe­ri­ences, I had al­ways en­joyed the pow­er­less­ness of be­ing with some­one who could take con­trol.I liked be­ing re­duced to a sex­ual play­thing.

I aimed to please. I lifted my chin, took an­other gi­ant gulp from my drink and steeled my­self as best I could.

The room’s cen­tre­piece was a black, leather-clad ta­ble, the top of which had been cut roughly into the shape of a per­son. It too had leather cuffs at­tached.

My turn came when the brunette mis­tress walked up to Ka­rina and asked if she could bor­row me.

“She’s all yours,” said Ka­rina, hand­ing over my leash.

I lay face down and closed my eyes. I felt al­most ill with ter­ror and ex­cite­ment as the mis­tress and her man fas­tened the cuffs tightly around my an­kles and wrists.

I could hear their metal rings jan­gling slightly as my hands shook.

One sec­ond I felt I was in over my head, the next I was rev­el­ling in the ex­hil­a­ra­tion of sub­miss­sion. Fixed to the ta­ble with a circle of spec­ta­tors jostling for a bet­ter look, I felt a sud­den crack across my back­side as the whip came down.

It stung sharply, caus­ing me to catch my breath. If I thought he was go­ing to take it easy on me be­cause I was new, I was mis­taken.

But as the shock of the first blow faded, it was re­placed by a warm, pleas­ant sen­sa­tion that spread from where he hit me up through my stomach and out to my bound limbs. In the fog of adren­a­line and al­co­hol, a plea­sur­able un­der­tone was com­ing through in ever stronger waves.

He hitched up my skirt so he could whip bare skin, and the blows kept com­ing. I bit down. I en­dured.

While I was be­ing whipped, his part­ner took me by the hair and tilted my head back. She slapped me gen­tly on the face, be­fore smil­ing and let­ting my head drop back on the ta­ble.

At one point, the guy had re­moved my un­der­wear and was roughly push­ing two fin­gers inside me. The dom­i­na­trix mean­while, who had taken the whip from him, was lash­ing me un­mer­ci­fully while spit­ting in­sults through those bright-red lips, telling me what a filthy whore I was.

But rather than hurt­ing me, all the abuse and the in­sults and the whip­ping were rolling over me in waves of spine-jan­gling plea­sure.

How can I ever go back to a nor­mal life af­ter this? But if there is a line, I had prob­a­bly crossed it long be­fore that night.”

MAKE the post­man think you’ve had a

nose­bleed by open­ing the door with tomato ketchup smeared on your lip.

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