Part of the Sarah Saga

Sarah shyly took in her surroundings. This was as foreign as an environment as she had ever encountered.  She’d known there would be sex.  She’d said she wouldn’t be bothered, and while that was true she nonetheless found it rather odd, these couples and triples lounging about, passionately engaging in squelchy things which made her avert her eyes.  Everything she had seen at the event had perfectly matched the description she’d read of the night- the same description that had left her with the distinct impression that this was a place she should not go, an activity she would not enjoy. Yet, even as she gazed at her shoes, she felt warm waves of acceptance wash over her, and began to feel that she did indeed belong.


She turned her gaze instead toward Gerard, and found her sponsor calmly surveying the space, trying to determine where they could find room for whatever it was he’d planned to do to her.  Sarah shivered at the thought, in both excitement and anxiety, and yet moved marginally closer to him, feeding off his composure to calm her own roiling thoughts.


She took a closer look at the space around her, a space unlike any other. Even after becoming accustomed to the BDSM club nights and the whips and chains on display and in use there, this felt like another level entirely. There was no booming music, no crowded bar, no dimmed lights. No way to lie to herself that she was only there for a normal night out with an exotic twist.  


Other than the red tint to the lighting, the space resembled a hotel lobby, albeit with a decidedly sadistic decorating sense. Sarah busied her mind trying to count the number of ways a person might be bound to the various furnishings in the atrium before her, not to mention the private rooms just beyond.


And then there was Kevin.  At first glance, he appeared entirely transformed from the quiet but friendly man she’d met in the pub for munches. The badge marking him as a monitor seemed almost redundant; everything about his manner indicated he was in control of this space. While others around him may wield whips and paddles and one decidedly frightening contraption emitting hisses and sparks, he exuded authority on a different level. Dressed tonight in leather trousers and a black t-shirt that exposed his muscular arms crossed menacingly across his chest, he cut a very intimidating figure as he surveyed the space.   The image was broken only by the warm, encouraging smile he gave her.  Sarah tried to return the expression, not quite succeeding, but felt herself begin to relax.  It would be ok, she told herself as she took a steadying breath. These were people she knew, even if it took a while to recognise some of them in the elaborate costumes or provocative positions they had assumed this evening.  These were people she trusted, people who would keep her safe- not just from the whips and ropes but from biting off too much at once. Protecting her from the very environment in which she was being immersed, keeping the mood light and fun until she was ready for something more intense.


Gerard returned to her side, having had a quiet word with Kevin about finding space for them to. . . . to do what they’d come to do, Sarah’s thoughts dodging the topic.  


Of anyone here, Gerard looked most like his usual self. Other than swapping his usual cardigan and khaki trousers for a kilt and medieval-looking blousy linen shirt, he wore the same friendly, amused expression, and casually toted his bag of evil things as though it were nothing more than a briefcase.  Without looking back, he folded her hand in his own with a reassuring squeeze.


Sarah took comfort from his presence, his warmth at her side. She tried to slow her heart, deepen her breathing to match his own.  As she relaxed her mind, she began to feel more uncomfortable, her outfit itching in odd ways. Even with plenty practice at club nights and more private meetings, stockings still felt remarkably alien.  That, combined with the cramps in her feet from the slightly-too-tight, slightly-too-high heels and the persistent nagging light kiss of her sheer, gausy skirt on the back of her calves, set her twitching slightly for reasons entirely unrelated to any plans Gerard might have for her.


But then a side room opened up, and as Kevin ushered them inside, hooking the do-not-dsturb rope across the doorless opening, all thoughts of material discomfort were pushed aside as Sarah felt her panic returning.   


“How do you want m-” Sarah’s question was cut off as Gerard wordlessly pushed her up against the crossed beams in the corner, leaning firmly against her back, mumbling something reassuring as he massaged her shoulders, the same sort of massage he used as a form of greeting when meeting her at munches, a way to connect with her that required no words from her, allowed him to continue conversing while acknowledging her presence and helping her relax into the space.  She’d gotten better at munches, largely thanks to Gerard’s encouragement and assistance, and, after the first few awkward nights, began to engage freely in the chat, rather than merely offering a few nervous replies when asked direct questions.


She felt her tension melting as the same technique helped her relax into this newly uncomfortable place.  He was always very present, in word or touch, pressed up against her, keeping her still and calm and here.

A sharp smack to her behind brought the tension back, but with a different, exciting flavour.  The massage continued, albeit with increasingly frequent spanks to punctuate the experience.  When he turned to retrieve something from his bag of implements, Sarah noted the sudden lack of physical contact, but had been drawn deeply enough into his spell that the momentary absence didn’t send her spinning off into panic.


In any event, Gerard was back in a moment, perhaps too quickly for Sarah’s taste, considering that he announced his return with a tap of the tawse on her behind.  Sarah quaked at the touch of the tawse, an instrument whose kiss she craved even as she dreaded it.  The attraction and revulsion set her knees trembling, and may have knocked her off balance had Gerard not moved in to catch her, calm her, and toss her gently onto the large, round bed in the centre of the room.


There was a mirror on the ceiling, she noted idly as she lay, somewhat dazed, more from the situation than the motion itself.  The mirror showed her the image of a sensual woman, thigh-high stockings with elegant seams tracing up to lacy tops, suspenders tracing delicate lines up to her belt. Her eyes traced a gracefully bent leg down to the pointed heels.  


Do I really look like that? Sarah wondered. Her mind flashed back to her first attempt at wearing stockings, the clumsy insecurity of the day, only rectified by the spanking that had cleansed her mind of such unpleasant thoughts. She had come a long way.


Gerard turned back, paddle in hand.


Perhaps she hadn’t come so far after all. Then again, she was quite happy here.  


“Turn over,” Gerard instructed sternly, a firm hand assisting her compliance.


Sarah sprawled in what must have been a most unelegant manner as she scrambled to find a suitable position.  The bed was awkward, to say the least, with its plasticy surcacy clinging oddly and providing nothing to hold onto.


The paddle tapped her behind twice before crashing down.   Sarah collapsed flat on the bed at the impact, and before she could resume her struggle the next few taps of the paddle told her to stay put, that this position would be good enough.


It stll left her with nothing ot do with her arms. Sarah waved them wildly in a mindless response to the sting before clasping the edges of the bed as tightly as she could.  As the paddle deepened the sting in her bottom, Sarah’s grunts at each swat grew louder and more urgent until she was near howling, heedless of those nearby who could doubtless hear.


Gerard wound down the paddling, though it wasn’t until his steady hands returned to her shoulders, gently turning and lifting her, that she realised it was over.  It hadn’t been much of a spanking, far from the longest or hardest she had taken, but her earlier anxiety had heightened the experience.


Any trace of anxiety was now long gone as she returned Gerard’s post-scene lingering hug.  “Part 2 later,” he promised as he let her go to pack up his things.  


Sarah could only beam as she followed him back to the main room, meeting with enthusiasm the smiles of those who knew full well what they had been up to. Having left her modesty somewhere with her fear, she now fully plunged into the unfolding festival of platonic intimacy.

2 thoughts on “Libertine

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