Diabolique- Tied and Tortured (by Klark Kent)
Diabolique Ball: Heroes and Villains
I arrived by taxi to the nightclub hosting the Diabolique Ball, a drab pair of pants, shirt, coat and tie over my skintight “superhero” costume. Klawdya, who was busy setting up for her performances, was the first person I saw. I went to her like a moth to a flame. I followed her around like a dog, partially because I was slipping into my role as a submissive, partially because I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I was excited and excruciatingly nervous–I had an impulse to flee, to return to my safety zone, but my better sense told me that my time had finally come to live the fantasies that I had held for so long. I had only been tied by her once before, but tonight I was informed that I would be suspended and would serve as a human trapeze. This bondage, she told me, was harder, more intense by far than anything I had experienced before, and it would be in front of an audience. Detecting the hint of a challenge, I felt my inner courage surge, and I agreed, in as non-chalant a manner as I could muster.
My excitement grew as the revelers arrived and the Ball began. I watched Klawdya suspend a “Super-Slut”, and I began to yearn for the same attention. Wonder Woman was doing a pole dance, I heard the smack of paddle against flesh coming from the dungeon, saw masters and mistresses leading their slaves around on leashes. I drank it in.
Soon, it was time for our performance. Klawdya, ever the professional, laid out her ropes and gave me a few brief instructions before the emcee announced her and the spotlight illuminated us.
First, she stripped me. The jacket came down, the tie ripped off, and the buttons to the shirt undone. Next, she went for my belt, and the plain trousers slipped to my ankles, revealing my tights. By now I was aroused, and my heart was pounding. Soon, as she moved around me to the rhythm of the pumping music, the ropes were being applied. She made a tight harness around my chest, waist, and finally, my ankles. While I was excited, I was never afraid. She continually came close to my ear to ask how everything felt, how I was, etc. Then, with one finally “ready?” from Klawdya, I was leaned forward, and she hoisted me into the air. I found the suspension thrilling, especially when she pushed me so that I swung around, “flying”. Suddenly, I felt her mount me, and she straddled my back as we swung. It stunned me at first. I was sure the ropes would break or come untied, but they did not. She dismounted and swung under me, back and forth, like a gymnast. I was alarmed when she invited a member of the crowd to do the same, but with a thrill I realized that I could not prevent it, that I was helpless, and that the show would go on. I could not tell who was on top of me at any give time–I only saw boots dangling by my sides, felt fabric and flesh. I swung toward and away from the lights, the crowd a blur. I recall at one point feeling the stubbly hairs of someones shaved crotch graze my back and becoming excited. There were moments when I was not sure I could take the weight and the pressure–were there two or three people on me? The ropes on my chest were so tight I could not draw a breath. Before I could panic or grow too uncomfortable to continue, my part of the performance was over, and I was lowered. “I am going to hogtie you and leave you in the corner,” Klawdya said. She left my ankles bound, placed my on my stomach, and tied the lead to my chest harness, and there I remained, watching as the performance continued.
Once untied, I followed Klawdya to the dressing room as she changed into a different costume. She had a little time before her next performance, which was a self-bondage suspension (!), and, unable to contain myself any longer, I asked to be paddled. “You want to play before my performance? Let’s play. Fetch my bag.” I practically ran back to the dressing room to grab her bag of toys. I saw that there was a ball gag, various paddles and whips…I returned to find that she had been called to the obligation of suspending another one of the Super Sluts, and so I would have to wait. Deflated, I returned the bag.
I followed her upstairs, and, when we found that we had some time before her performance, she led me to dark corner of the dance floor. She pushed me hard against the wall, rubbing against me, caressing me and spanking me intermittently. I quickly became hard, and could feel the precum wetting my tights. I was spun around to face her, and slapped hard. “Look at the floor.” She commanded. I was brought to my knees to kiss her feet. My wrists were quickly bound and the extra rope tugged roughly into my mouth. I was panting. It ended with me on all fours and her on my back. It left me wanting more, and, later in the night, I would get it.
I watched her self-bondage in awe of her strength and skill. She perched on a stool, doing her rigging, and, once finished, she thrust the stool away with her pelvis and hung upside down. She swung across the floor–I grabbed her hands and helped to swing her, back and forth, back and forth. She had the crowd entranced, myself included. After the performance, I followed her closely. I thrilled at one point when she was greeted by a fan, who she told that I was “her boy” when asked. I enjoyed holding her drinks, carrying her bags. Toward the end of the night she sat on the lap of a girl friend and I sat on her while she toyed with my cock.
We stayed until the club closed, packed up, and drove through the freezing night to an after party. The party was in a converted factory space that had been turned into a well-equipped dungeon playspace. It was something straight from my fantasies: I looked greedily at the St. Andrews cross, a medical examination chair, a rack…this would be the site of my first real scene. As we came in to the room, a domme was flogging her slave girl. I was practically salivating. Despite the cold of the room, I removed everything but my tights, and Klawdya took out her ropes. We decided that I would be tied spreadeagled. When I had suggested this to Klawdya, I had thought I was be standing, legs apart, arms in the air, but she had other (better) plans. She made a chest harness, and strung a lead to a center ring above my head. She then began working on a harness for my pelvis. The feel of the rope moving along my cock made my heart leap into my throat. My ankles and legs were harnessed as well, and my wrists. When all was complete, I was hoisted into the air, almost flat on my back, my legs spread wide. Once I was secured, I took in the feeling that I had been seeking for so long: complete helplessness. I was completely at Klawdya’s mercy, and as she began to remove toys from the bag, I knew there would not be any. She laid the flogger, gags and two different paddles (one large and round, the other long and rectangular) on my chest. She warmed me up with the rubber flogger. It had a slight sting, and I liked how it felt against my skin. When she noticed that I was watching her every move, she blindfolded me with rope–an end was also used to slightly elevate my head so that I could not drop it down. Soon, she placed the rubber flogger back on my chest. I felt her pick up the leather one. The sting was considerably more intense. Perhaps my favorite moment was when she forced the leather paddle into my mouth, and told me that I would be in big trouble if I dropped it. This had been in my fantasies for a long, long time, and I could not imagine how she could have known. I found that, as in my fantasies, I had to struggle to keep the paddle in my mouth, especially as the blows became harder. The lashes to the feet and inner thigh were especially difficult to take. After a particularly brutal round, which causes me to begin to struggle with futility against the bonds, she came to my head to caress me, soothing me momentarily as I panted and gasped with pain. Still, it was only just beginning. She picked the large, round paddle off of my chest. “I want you to tell me which side I’m using,” she said. “The smooth side,” and with this she slapped my bare chest, “or the scarred side.” The paddle came down my stomach. We played this cruel guessing game–my answers coming out with my panting breaths. When I was wrong, she stuck me even more fiercely. I began to feel that, especially on the soles of my feet and inner thighs, that the pain was too much, that I would surely cry out or perhaps even ask her to stop if she stuck me again. She seemed to sense my limited, and allowed these areas to cool just enough before applying the paddle to them again. Soon, she removed the long paddle from between my teeth, when by now I kept it clenched, my jaw quivering. “This is the meanest one.” She said. I was told that I would be given 15 blows, and that, after that I was to say “why did you stop?” in German. The first blow was excruciating. My muscles tensed and I swung in my bonds, trying to avoid the nasty little paddle. Someone, I managed to count them. The blows to my inner thighs brought tears into my eyes, but it hurt no matter when she struck. After 15, I could not bring myself to repeat the phrase she had taught me. I also could not bring myself to ask for the scene to end. She spoon-fed me the words, and they came out with my rasping breaths. There were another 15 blows, and my body was in flames. Klawdya, however, seemed to sense my limits, and the scene, was over. She lowered me gingerly, until I stood, quaking, on my tender soles. We embraced, and I felt the endorphins flooding my mind.
Days later, the marks of my evening of bondage are still distinct on my body, as she warned me they would be. There is the unmistakable outline of rope across my chest and back–purple and black tattoo of rope. On my chest and thighs are squares of red and yellow where the paddle came down. These are the kind of bruises that you spend time admiring in the mirror, however, and even end up arousing me, causing my mind to wander. All in all, I could not have hoped for of a more complete first bondage experience, and I feel lucky to have had it at the hands of such a talented guide.
-Klark Kent
Klawdya Rothschild's Vortex 