When I look at Asbjörn, there’s a wicked glimmer in his eyes.
“Are you ready to play?”
I turn my head and take in the space. The room is full of people, some talking, some playing, some watching the scenes. A couple is doing bondage at the suspension ring in the middle of the room, a woman is getting caned on the bondage table close to the St. Andrew’s cross, and one of the men in Ulf’s circle has pulled his sub over his knee, spanking her.
“At the cross,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “With clothes. Just floggers and wrist cuffs. The same thing as last time. The only difference is that there are more people in the room.”
Watching the room, I breathe deeply through pursed lips. Most people are preoccupied with either play or conversation. But it’s not the random people I’m concerned about. It’s Ulf. And the cross is right in his line of sight.
I remember the feeling of his watchful eyes when he showed up—the way he seemed to see everything, even when I had my guards up.How much did he see when Asbjörn flogged me?Shudders roll down my spine, but anticipation also hums low in my belly.
The same as last time, Asbjörn said. The person I’m most worried about has already seen it all. So I nod. “Okay.”I can do this.
Asbjörn gestures to a man across the room, who comes to take his place behind the bar. Then Asbjörn takes my hands and leads the way toward the cross. A prickling sensation makes me glance toward the couches and find Ulf following me with his gaze. My breaths deepen and speed up, and my entire body awakens, becoming hyperaware. Somehow, I just know he’s going to watch the whole scene.
7
Elina
Spending Friday nights at the club and playing with Asbjörn becomes a weekly highlight.
He gradually takes me deeper into the world of BDSM, showing me new dynamics and new toys. After the first couple of times with the floggers and wrist cuffs, I let him add the ankle cuffs. Then it’s baring my breasts and nipple clamps; next, I let him remove all my clothes and touch me sexually.
The first orgasm I get at Asbjörn’s hands is staggering. World-altering, I might even say.
I was never loud in bed, but suddenly, I’m screaming and bucking in a frenzy as Asbjörn expertly fingers my pussy while delivering sharp smacks to my thighs. The exquisite combination of pleasure and pain drives me to new heights I didn’t even think possible.
And it’s not just the orgasms that make me shed my inhibitions and go wild. Slowly, Asbjörn ramps up the pain, testing my limits and pushing me deeper into unknown territory. I revel in every second of it. Somehow, he finds the perfect balance—reaching just the right amount of uncomfortable, like he said the first night.
After a few sessions, I barely even stop to consider whether I want to try the new things he suggests. I’ve come to trust that he knows what I’m ready for even better than I do.
But the thing that makes me more nervous than anything before is when he, one night, places a cane on the bar top alongside the usual restraints.
“Tonight, I want to introduce you to the cane,” he says with a serious expression that makes me gulp.
When he showed me all the various toys in his bag a couple of weeks ago, he encouraged me to test the impact play tools—tap them on my palm or calves—to get a sense of the feel and the differences. The cane was the one that scared me the most. The sharp, focused force it delivered with just light taps gave me the feeling that it could cause severe pain.
It’s a simple, long bamboo stick—or rather, rattan. He told me the difference is very important. Bamboo can splinter and become very sharp, while rattan is more durable. I shudder at the idea of the cane suddenly splintering and cutting my ass like a knife.
“Rattan, right?” I ask, needing to double-check before letting him use it on me.
“Rattan,” he confirms with a smile. “You remembered.”
“Yeah.” I trail my fingers over the cane a few times, studying it with wide eyes, before lifting my gaze to him again. “Do you really think I’m ready for this?”
He glances toward the couches at the back, and I follow his gaze to see Ulf nod—a quiet exchange between the two of them.
“You are,” Asbjörn says. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his voice, but it firms when he takes the cane and taps it against his palm. “Thisis what we’ll do tonight.” His eyes light up with expectation. “Your ass is going to carry the prettiest marks when I’m done with you.”
“Really?” I bite my lips around an excited smile. I’ve come to love the marks.
“Oh yes. Beautiful parallel stripes and deep blue bruises.”
My heart flutters, and I suppress the urge to clap in excitement.
Shyness washes over me when I look toward the couches again and find Ulf’s attention honing in on me. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always here, watching. Yet it stuns me every time I collide with those stark blue eyes that seem to take in my every little flicker of nervousness and excitement.
“Will he be watching the whole scene again tonight?” I ask Asbjörn in a low voice.
