Trust by Rolf

Trust

I was on the floor, naked, on my back and had difficulties moving. I stared at the ceiling, which was white just like the walls in the sparsely furnished room.

I had arrived at this former farmhouse on the Swedish west coast in the morning and now it was late afternoon and I was at the mercy of a woman I had never met before. I listened for sounds, for anything that might alert me to what would happen next, but it was all quiet except for birdsong in the garden outside and I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. This was not what I had expected. But what had I expected?

I had been greeted at the entrance by a man in his early 40s, roughly my age, and he had asked if I was a sadist or a masochist. I replied that I was a switch but that I had decided to explore my submissive side at this week-long S/M camp. The man, one of several male subs at the camp, had left me in a room that turned out to be one designed for the auction, my auction! I had found myself on a tiny stage while one mistress after the other entered, everyone of them viewing me, sizing me up.

"We want to see your bottom before we start the bidding," one of them, a redhead in her 20s, told me  in a voice that made it clear to me I had to obey.

Yet, because was shy, still am, I said: "Whoever buys me will get to see my behind."

The women shouted at me to drop my jeans. I realised I had to do it and so I lowered my pants and underwear, baring my pert bum for a few seconds, and covered myself again. It was embarrassing.

But they roared with approval and the bidding began. I had set my eyes on a beautiful Gypsy-like woman of around 35 who had long, wavy black hair, dark mysterious eyes and a nice slim figure.

Luckily, she won me after some fierce bidding, which had flattered my ego, and she introduced herself as Katarina from Stockholm. She had taken me to the room where I was now on my back, on the floor listening for sounds. Suddenly, I  heard a door open and looked towards it, but saw nobody. There was definitely someone else in the room now but beyond my line of sight and I felt helpless. I was, in fact, utterly helpless.

What was Katarina, my mistress, going to do to me now? I tried to get up but the rope kept me in place. She had turned out to be heavily into bondage and here I was on the floor, tied up in tight knots. She had asked me if I needed to go to the toilet, but I was fine. She had then started tying me up, slowly with a soft rope to avoid friction against my skin. My hands tied firmly behind my back, she had proceeded to force my legs up into a foetus position and tied them together at the knees and ankles.

Katarina had reassured me that all would be well. But here I was, squirming on the floor, and I felt extra vulnerable given that I was naked.

Wearing a black leather cat suit, boots and with a whip stuck into her belt, my mistress suddenly appeared before me, her feet on either side of my body, and I was struck by the shere power she radiated. She now looked down on me, her hair partly covering her wonderful face, a serious look in those dark eyes.

She lit a candle and started to drip burning wax on my chest and I didn't know what to make of this. I had fantasized about receiving an OTK spanking, which was why I had come to this S/M camp on the Swedish west coast on a hot summer day. I had been hoping to receive a proper, stinging spanking with a hairbrush by an authoritative woman, but now I faced a truly dominating mistress who was dripping hot wax on my chest, which was twitching in pain!

I did not dare speak, but my eyes begged her to stop because it hurt, giving me a pain I did not want, something that didn't turn me on. But I could see in those dark eyes of my mistress that she was turned on. She was using me for pleasure, her pleasure. Now she let the burning wax drip down onto my stomach while watching my reaction with a degree of empathy.

The hot wax now landed closer and closer to my penis, which was not erect because I was afraid. As the wax dripped within an inch of my penis, I looked at my mistress with alarm in my eyes.

She saw my fear, apparently acknowledging in her mind that she had taken me to my limit although not a single word had been spoken.

"Trust Madame," she said softly. "Submit to me and trust me."

Katarina blew out the candle with a smile and I took a deep breath of relief.

She untied me, took off most of her clothes and sat down in a chair. I was made to kneel before her. She pulled me closer and embraced me and I buried my face between her firm breasts, enjoying this intimate moment like an unexpected gift.

My mistress caressed my hair, twirling a lock, and said it was time for my first spanking and that maybe she would give me a good whipping later. I looked forward to my spanking with a sudden surge of pleasure in my body, but I had never been whipped before. Yet, I trusted her and felt no fear.

Rolf Hultcrantz