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I can still remember tingle of blush on my cheeks and the humility I felt as i stepped out into the room, arms crossed over my bare breasts. I didn’t even have to look around to know that everyone was watching me. I could feel their gaze.

Part of me wanted to turn back — run back into the bathroom, put my clothes on and just leave. But the draw to you was much stronger, and it overwhelmed me completely once I lifted my gaze and saw you standing there.

The expression on your face was perfect.

Calm, strong, proud. Your dark eyes were looking directly at me, and without a word, you brought me across the room and to your feet. I often wonder if you ever truly knew how much I worshiped you at that moment. I could have died at your feet without a moment of regret.

You led me to the cross and bound my wrists and ankles in supple leather. You bared my breasts from the cover of my arms, and reminded me that none of the onlookers mattered. The place we stood was chosen as a random convenience. All there was in the world now was the things that we let in.

Still, we were not alone. Our mutual friend stood on the other side of the cross I was tied to as you covered my eyes with the blindfold. His fingers were laced with mine and his presence was comforting to me during those long moments of silence before I finally felt you move behind me again.

“I’m going to hurt you, little girl.”

Yes! Please! God please hurt me! Make me cry! Make me bleed! I whimpered. You wrapped me so tight around your finger, I would never escape, even through the distance of miles and time.

And then you were gone, another friend stood in your place, his hands beating a sharp rhythm of fire over the flesh of my back until. I couldn’t give in before you had touched me. Right at that breaking moment, it stopped, and there you were… your fingertips tracing the marks that his hands had left behind, your voice whispering in my ear.

The thump of leather sometimes soft, like a lover’s kiss sometimes so sharp that it would make me arch and cry out. It’s hard to find words to describe what I felt at that moment. My head was light, my body tingled all over. The tender caresses and the stinging lash of leather all had the same effect – they secretly, and sacredly elevated me.

Oh, how I wish I could go there again now.

There were probably seventy people in that room with us, but through it all I heard not a single whisper until the moment when you asked if I wanted to continue. “Yes, Sir! No, Sir! Yes, Sir! Please, Sir!” My mind was so fuzzy that I didn’t even care about the muffled giggles I heard at my confusion, despite the blush on my cheeks. What I really wanted to say was that I wanted you to do as you would with me… anything, everything you wanted.

I had always sworn that I drew the line with the drawing of blood. Yet, on our very first night together, I would bleed for you more than once, willingly and joyfully. The first time, I was still bound to the cross. You stood close behind me, one hand resting on my side, the other… it would be days later before I saw the little instruments you had attached to your fingertips. They were like long metal claws, sharp as nails… like streaks of fire down my back.

I don’t believe I have ever been so aroused as I was at that moment not before and not since. You stood so close to me and whispered to me as you tormented me. With every word from your lips, with every whimper from mine, I loved you more.

An hour later would find me lying on my back, bound to a table as you slipped thin needles through the soft, warm flesh of my breasts. It was only then that another voice in the crowd found its way into my murky, blissful haze. It was a friend of me, I don’t know who she was speaking with but I knew she was speaking about me. She’s had an epiphany.”

After, I was sitting outside with friends, still lingering in the rosy afterglow of our experience when a man I didn’t know came up to me.

That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

I smiled at him, thinking, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.

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