Friday, February 27, 2015

Man With The Leash

Some years ago, while doing some investigative research at a ‘vanilla’ sex club, my husband and I observed a remarkable scene of sexual submission. After all the many BDSM scene related experiences I have witnessed or been involved with since, this amazing incident remains one of the most stunning examples of true dominance and submission that I have ever witnessed.
  
Man With The Leash by Lizbeth Dusseau
Copyright © 2003, all rights reserved, may not be used without permission
 

He moved with urgent purpose through the smoky nightclub, leaving a wake of mystery and wonder, dropping hints of the unusual scene about to knock this vanilla sex club on its ear. Though he dressed simply, in pressed slacks and starched open-collared shirt, his mannerisms made one think of arrogant executives wielding power: the chiseled jaw, the darting eyes, the shameless ego. Jaws dropped—at least figuratively—as his girl, a surrendering plain-faced brunette, moved with him, behind him, collared and tethered to a leash, exhibiting a behavioral abnormality rarely seen in any world but theirs.

    In charge for one astounding hour, the man had his stage, his audience in rapt attention and his actress under his command. While he aimed for a particular end, an explicit need only he understood, she was the embodiment of sensuous resignation, diverting her eyes, except when he demanded that she look directly at him. She was dressed as simply as the man who held the leash, wearing a slim black skirt, a dark tee-shirt that buttoned up the front, and black, leather boots that fit tight around her ankles. Her brunette hair was blunt cut and shoulder length. And while flat-chested, her hard nipples strained the fabric of her shirt, revealing a basic, almost boyish beauty in her simple look. Her passive face would be hard to remember, difficult to pick out in a crowd, but her aura was not likely forgotten by anyone in the club that night, as garish overstatement gave way to an exhibition of unpretentious surrender.

    The pair moved effortlessly through the crowd toward the center of the main lounge, where the atmosphere of erotic expectation was thick and unsettling. Those present were primed for sex, for a night of hedonistic abandon, and yet, their sexual anticipation hid behind casual postures, teasing glances and nervous negotiations that eventually, as the night wore on, would become less timid and more direct. In truth, liquor did a lot to loosen inhibitions in this sex club, something the startling newcomers would do with their exhibition alone.

    Indifferent to the bodies milling around him, the man with the leash shoved his collared chattel forward to a tiny dance stage and whispered in her ear commands only she could hear. Dropping the tether, he backed off and, along with a crowd of growing admirers, watched as she lifted her tee-shirt and mindlessly massaged her tiny tits. Her eyes never strayed from a spot at his feet, as she pulled her nipples brutally and bit her lip when the pain darted downward to her groin.

    “Move on,” he prompted her with some impatience.

    Her cue, she lifted her skirt, exhibiting thick tan legs and a bare shaved pussy, already glossy with a layer of moisture.

    Then, as if her performance was not enough, the man moved in close, whispering again. The girl immediately dropped to her hands and knees as he stepped back and focused critically on every exacting move she made, and nothing else—as if the two were alone in the room and the rest of the world had disappeared, and there were not thirty pairs of eyes witnessing in horrific wonder. He watched her as she raised her skirt above her tight ass, as she massaged the cheeks with her hand and ran her fingers down the crevice, drawing the wetness from her pussy toward the tight rosette of her anus. She tucked her chin to her chest, hiding her face, along with the lust in her eyes and her parted panting sensuous lips. Faceless, she was her body and nothing more—his body to command.

    Her willingness advanced his plan. Inspired, he crouched beside her, picked up the leash and held it in his fist. While she continued her play, he jerked the chain, annoyingly tugging at the collar and her neck. Tiny, sensuous gasps escaped her lips, but there was not a word of protest. She wouldn’t dare. Burying his free hand in her hair, he grabbed the brown locks and twisted them inside his gripping fingers.

    “Tell me you want more,” he whispered, so that only she and those close by could hear.

    “More,” she instantly answered him in a soft pleading shudder.

    “Tell me ‘harder,’” he insisted.

    “Harder, sir,” she answered.

    He sneered derisively, dismissively, “I should just leave you here and let them take your sorry ass.” Giving her head one last brutal shake, he then let go, pushed off and rose to his feet. He hung onto the leash with his one hand and tugged. “This way.” Pulling her from one subservient act to the next, he led her toward the tables where a dazzling blonde in a pink silk slip sipped rum and coke.

    “Do you mind?” he asked the woman.

    The blonde looked up at him amazed but clearly intrigued. Then with a mischievous smile, she nodded and raised the slip to her knees, opening her thighs in welcome.

    “Please her,” the man with the leash crisply ordered his brunette.

    The girl moved with caution but deliberately, stopping inside the V of the blonde’s legs. Rising to her knees, she ran her palms along the silk-covered thighs and the curve of the tart’s lush hips, upward to her breasts, where she lovingly grasped both and gently kneaded the plush cushions she found inside her hands.

    “That’s what real tits should feel like,” the man above her chided her own inadequate equipment.

    A tremor of regret passed across the brunette’s face as she heard him speak, yet she continued to pleasure the lovely blonde, scooting further inside the woman’s legs. Drawing the heavy breasts from inside the silk, she suckled the abundant flesh with parted lips, then wetted the pretty nipples with her tongue and blew warm air to make them knot as tightly as her own small buds.

    “Oh, honey, you can do that more,” the woman purred, while reaching out to gratefully stroked the brunette’s hair. Her eyes glimmered darkly. “And lower,” she urged in a voice simmering and erotic.

    The girl hesitated just long enough for the man in command to give the leash an impatient tug. Continuing now with determination, her hands caressed their way down the pink silk until they moved inside and underneath. As if she were opening a Valentine gift, the brunette carefully pulled up the slip, uncovering a plush snatch of pale pink skin and a neatly trimmed triangle of wispy blonde curls. Her head moved down into the redolent valley, with her lips and tongue leading her again. While holding the outer labia open with her fingers, she explored with her mouth until with a sudden and urgent abandon, she began frantically flicking the hood of the blonde’s blood-swollen clit.

    It would seem that a hundred soft sighs were heard in hushed sequence around the humid, smoky room. No one dared move but the girl on the floor, whose head bobbed lithely on the pink crotch, and the woman who owned that crotch, whose languid body responded in undulating orgasmic swells.

    “Ah, yesssss,” she softly hissed, as her head fell back against the chair. When her trembling body started to climax, she grabbed the side of the chair with one hand and the brunette’s hair with the other.

    The girl hung on to the pink, cumming pussy despite the wildly erratic movements, her face glistening, smeared with female juices.

    Once the woman’s tremors subsided, she slumped back in the chair, almost fainting. Seeing her satisfied expression, the man with the leash jerked his girl back to him, reclaiming her complete attention. After pulling her to her feet, he led her toward the back of the club, as though he sought a more private location. Even so, a motivated crowd of voyeurs followed them hoping the show would continue.

    The couple stood now face to face, just inches apart and chest to chest. Although they were nearly the same height, his energy persisted in towering over her, nearly consuming her as if she was a part of him, little more than an extension of his unyielding will, a playground for his schemes. No different than the scene before, their private conversation became a public show. That was what he wanted.

    “What do you deserve?” he asked her, with his sharp eyes riveted on her scared ones.

    “Nothing,” she sincerely answered.    

    He let go the leash and grabbed her neck, clutching it inside a claw-like grip. His other hand reached for the top of her shirt and with an abruptness that stunned the audience and his chattel, he ripped the two sides open. She swooned with awe and fright. He then laid her down against the flat surface of an empty lounge table and began pinching her nipples with a biting firmness that had to hurt. Her eyes remained closed but the pain still registered across her face in a worried grimace.

    The man leaned in, hissing in her ear. “Play with your pussy til you come.”

    While he continued to squeeze her nipples, the brunette reached for her crotch and began to roam the wet slit. Knowing exactly what to do to get off, her fingers massaged around the bud of her clitoris with painstaking precision. She performed with some urgency, sensing that the man in charge of her would not allow a leisurely masturbation.

    In speechless wonder, the audience observed her slick shiny folds expand before their eyes, and how her clitoris seemed to bloom and her vaginal muscles pulsed in readiness as she worked herself to a climactic frenzy. The air in the room seemed to rise ten degrees, a collective force that fed off her lust. She strained as the man above her crushed her nipples between his fingers and twisted.

    “Open your eyes,” he whispered gruffly.

                Her eyes fluttered wide, staring dazedly into his surly expression. He seemed to have climbed inside her head where he read her thoughts. He watched her jerk, struggling with the pain that by then must have been a constant stimulation. Though whether that pain was welcome was not exactly clear. It was, nevertheless, endured, because that was what she did.

    “Come, or I’ll pull your hand away,” he ordered in seething tones.

    She shook her head back and forth, her face wincing as if in protest. “Please,” she begged.

    “No, come now,” he insisted giving her nipples another angry squeeze. This last jarring pain tripped a switch in her brain and body.

    Her fingers flew, her body strained. She arched her back with every muscle going taut. Something wild swept through her, and yet the restraint was obvious. Whether the crowd made her shy or the man who mastered her every move restricted her pleasure by some unspoken rule, no one would know. The result was the same. The girl remained under his power, controlled even in her moment of rapture. She was left spent but hardly satiated at the finish.

    He gave the girl no time to recover. While her body still spasmed, he pulled her to her feet. His one hand moved to her crotch, diving into the liquid that bathed his fingers. Then he raised his cum-soaked digits to her lips and she, without instruction, licked them one by one. Her eyes remained nearly closed, her dreamy reverie apparent. A moment later, she slumped to her knees, bowing her head and hanging on to the man’s legs in affectionate gratitude. She looked up, eyes beseeching him. She wanted inside his pants, a hope everyone shared. It only seemed right after everything else that happened that night.

    But he pushed her off with a sweep of his hand.

    “I should find one fat prick to take your ass and another to fill your mouth.”

    That would have worked too, the crowd would agree.

    She seemed languished with desire hearing his rough words.

    “But not tonight,” he said as he wound his hand through her hair and scowled.  “You’ve already had more than you deserve.”
That said, the performance ended. He dropped the leash in her lap and turned away, leaving the brunette to scramble to her feet and follow him to the front of the club. Her shirt was still unbuttoned, the tips of her small breasts just barely hidden inside the flimsy cotton. Still collared, leashed and humbly acquiescent, she followed him into the desert night.

    The air in the sex club buzzed as the simmering erotic heat began to boil. Horny spectators resumed their quest for sexual satisfaction and negotiations were swiftly made. Couples disappeared into private rooms while other fucked in the public lounges. No one quite understood what they had seen that night. Days later, some would doubt it ever happened. But no one would forget. As the remembrance of that strange play between the yielding brunette and the man with the leash lingered on, it would continue to lure and beguile the voyeurs in that hour of mystery, causing them to wonder about themselves, what might be missing in their sexual passion, what hidden lust might lie dormant, waiting.