Her Slut

Her Slut
20th January 2000

The club was quiet, sparsely populated, the dungeon equipment in the central area underused. We were more than a little bored, all but chain smoking as we watched one couple playing tamely, what we referred to as 'tickling with a flogger.' It was already well after midnight, and somehow I had to get her interest perked before the club closed.

I knelt on the floor for a moment, her hand straying to stroke my hair as I did so; she still thought of me as a submissive, though that had ended long ago, but to be quite honest, with her, I didn't object too strongly. I smiled at the tenderness of her subconscious gesture, and leant forward slightly to kiss her calf. At this, she looked down at me, smiling, and I grinned back up at her, making the pretence of getting cigarettes out of the toy bag to cover the removal of one particular toy, hastily slipped into the band of my stocking as I stood.

I kissed her shoulder. She often wears off the shoulder, tight, sexy dresses, and she knows that the exposed flesh drives me crazy. I can never get enough of her, and I pray that I never do. Lighting the two cigarettes, I pass one to her, and she smiles gratefully at this small touch, a relic of the submission she once had from me that I now do purely out of love. Briefly, our lips touch, a delicate operation when we are both wearing collars with protruding four inch nails. I indicate that I'm going to the ladies, and she nods in understanding, taking a long, slow pull of the cigarette as I move away.

I don't go to the toilet, though. Instead I go across to the DJ, and ask him for something sleazy. He nods, and flips through a rack of discs, selecting one. I move to the opposite side of the play area, and wait, just out of sight of my partner, for it to come on. By the time it does, I know that she will be getting edgy, wondering if I'm alright, and I step into her view across the floor, moving in time to the music, my hips swaying and circling, the way I do when I'm wearing a g-string and rubbing my clit ring against the cloth.

Half way across I stop, still swaying, and look up at her. She has this half smile; she knows I'm up to something and just hasn't worked out what yet. After all, why should she ? I've never done this before, either in public or in private. I begin to gyrate, turning slowly so that my back is to her, and withdraw the toy I secreted earlier. As I complete the circle, she sees the light flash off the exposed blade of the cut-throat, and I dance for a while as if the steel was a lover. As I get into the head space I need, I glance over and see that she's shifted her stance, a sure indication that she is getting wet.

The music thickens, and I step up the action. Holding the open blade between my teeth, I release the buckles of the leather dress I'm wearing, and slowly draw down the zip, until, with a soft hiss, it slides down my arms and onto the floor. Under it, I'm wearing a red leather bra and g-string, and hold up stockings. I dance slowly for a few moments, the heels of my stiletto boots clicking on the wooden floor, then take the razor out of my mouth and let it glisten in its coat of saliva.

Now semi-clad, I moved over to one of the sets of bars, winding my free hand around one of the hanging ropes and rubbing my cunt against the cold metal, making my desire to taste her pain obvious. Turning to her once more, I drew the blade diagonally across my flesh, from just under the bra to the top of my g-string, not hard enough to cut, but hard enough to leave a red line marking its path. I repeated this gesture, this time in the other direction, forming an inverted 'V.' Looking across, I knew she wanted me to cut deeper, to see the red beads of my essence dripping from me, but this was not the place for that, that would have to wait until we were home.

I danced a little closer to her, my groin pumping in rhythm to the pounding music, and brought the razor up to cut off the straps holding my bra. It fell easily, exposing my small breasts and their ringed nipples, and again I took the razor into my mouth, the better to caress and twist the steel I had exposed. Now I could draw more lines of pain, and drew one from my clavicle to my navel, then two horizontal ones across my chest. The design complete, I danced away again, and with my back to her, and taking the blade into my mouth again, leaned over to hold my ankles, my ass high in the air for her delight.

I held that position for a moment, wiggling my ass, knowing that she was well aware of my penchant for enemas, for having a clean and empty ass for her to play with. Then I took out the razor, and, maintaining the stance so that she could clearly see my actions, sliced all the way up my left leg, then around the ankle until the remnant of stocking fell away. Transferring the knife to the other hand, I repeated the action on the other leg, this time pressing a little deeper and allowing the blood to bead. I drew my free hand up my leg, and tasted it, turning to taunt her as I licked my finger, and feeling her heat from ten paces away.

Now I glanced across at the keeper of the dungeon, moving the blade across the front of my final covering. He had been watching; not that I minded, he had seen me naked before now, and he nodded his assent. I cut the straps of the g-string from the outside inwards; not terribly safe, but they were tight enough to part easily. And dropped to the floor.

Now I was naked, but for the nailed collar and my boots, and I danced closer to her, running the back of the blade down my body and across my clit, then over my labia, coating it with my fluids and then holding it up for her to lick, which she did so daintily, the smile she wore betraying her lust. Moving back again, I held it by the blade, and slowly inserted the curved handle inside me, fucking myself for her pleasure, my eyes locked to hers. As the record ended, I withdrew it, licked it clean, and folded it shut, walking as I did so to stand before her at the rail.

As I sank to my knees in front of this woman, the only one with strength that matched mine, the only one for whom I would kneel, I held the blade out to her on my open palms, the light clearly displaying the symbol I had carved on my own chest...

The symbol for 'SLUT.'

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