In Red

Be ready at 8 pm. Wear only your overcoat, white garter belt, white hose, and matching heels. A car will pick you up promptly at 8. Do Not Be Late. The driver will have further instructions for you.

That was the note she got from him. As always, the instructions were explicit, perfunctory, and without flourish or drama; She was told what to do and when without any question or choice needed. This was always how it was when he summoned her. That was why she always answered the summons. There were no romantic notions, there were no schoolgirl dreams, she knew what she needed from him and he knew what he wanted from her. They matched like that.

He was him. Although she knew his name and knew more about him, she simply thought of him as him. In this context he was a figure looming, a dark shadow that personified darker cravings. Anything outside that was useless for now and thus discarded. His name was just a title given to him by parents. The title she gave him was “Him”. The one, the voice that called her and told her to be ready. The hand that wrote the instructions. The architect of things of which they would never speak of in polite company, never mention to anyone, but that would always haunt them, urging them to return to the dark. Always, the urge to play their parts was there, teasing them until the next time.

At 8 pm she sat in front of the door. Wearing only the clothing instructed, she waited patiently. Her clock was carefully set so as to be precise to the second. As the hand finally rested fully on the 8 and before the second hand had passed the 3, the doorbell rang. Even knowing it was coming, the noise still startled her. She jumped slightly and then rose to answer the summons and opened the door.

The driver was a smaller man. His uniform perfectly pressed, he was immaculate in appearance. There were no words shared. No common greeting. No need for any of that. Each had a purpose and each had a role for Him. There was no need to chit chat.

Taking her purse she followed the driver to the waiting limousine. It was not a huge stretch car that people rented to show off. It was a Mercedes, several years old but in pristine condition. It was pure comfort without being showy. She slipped into the back seat and the driver shut the door. They never spoke. They did not feel the need.

The driver took her downtown, to an older district. The flash offices faded away to brownstones that were being renovated and reworked into the next trendy section of town for the terminally hip. The crowds would follow in months to come, sure that they were the trendiest and hippest of the hip never understanding it was Him that chose what they would like next. He would choose the places they bragged about going. It was all Him.

The driver turned down an alley. She was not worried, even though it looked like this area might be on the rougher side, danger to her would never be allowed by Him. He had it planned out to the finest detail and she knew that she was safe. Clicking open her cigarette case she removed one and lit it, enjoying the first smokey burn in her lungs. She did not smoke on a daily basis. She only did it when going to see Him. Something about it seemed decadent and naughty. Something about it felt like someone else; which she was and this person smoked.

The car came to a halt near the end of the alley. A dumpster blocked any further driving. The driver put the car into park and reached to the seat next to him and took up a carefully folded piece of paper. Without turning, he held it out to her, never looking back to see if she was going to take it. She of course did take it and unfolded it. There was a feel to it like all of his instructions. The paper was heavy and felt old and strong. There was a scent of his cologne to it but not like it was scented, more like the paper was remembering being in his hands.

The words were written in black ink and had a very cultured look. His penmanship like everything else in his life was controlled and used to the best impact. The letters perfectly curved and slanted, one could almost believe it was printed off the computer except it wasn’t. He would never do that. His instructions were for her alone and were written with that intimacy in mind.

At the end of the alley you will find a doorway on the right leading into the theater. There is a girl waiting for you at the door to guide you to me. Do as she tells you and come to me. Leave your coat in the car.

There was no signature. He knew she would know it was from Him. She undid her over coat and slid it off her shoulders as the driver stepped out and opened her door. He stared at her tits and pussy as he offered her his hand and she felt a thrill his hungry gaze. It was a safe lust, he would never violate the terms of Him. She liked that he drank her in and wanted her. It gave her confidence to go see Him.

She walked to the door at the end of the alley feeling the driver’s eyes drilling into her ass as she went. She grinned. It felt good to be naked. It felt good to be free of clothing, to just be for Him. She walked with extra swing to her ass to show off for the driver. She turned just as she reached the door to see him staring after her. No expression on his face but his eyes glued to her body. She dropped her cigarette, pausing for a second to step on the cherry as she looked back, and then opened the door, letting the smoke slowly curl from her mouth as she gave the driver a smile goodbye.

The interior was dimly lit and her eyes had to take a moment to adjust. She saw the girl waiting for her immediately but it was not until her eyes got used to the lighting that she could make out details. She was about the same height but that was were the similarities ended. The girl was a Bettie Page rockabilly pinup come to life. Shoulder length black hair, alabaster skin, ruby red lips, eyes that started dark and with the heavy vampish makeup became pools of desire. Her body was naked, not a stitch of clothing except for her heels but her skin was not nude. She had a flaming heart down one arm and Betty Boop on the other. Her hips had stars and flames swirling with a fire tribal tattoo down one leg. Even her bare pussy had a rose tattooed on it, the puffy lips marked with blood red petals.

The girl was grinning and toying with one nipple, pulling on it until her perky tit lifted up and then letting it slip from her fingers with a snap. The girl was obviously having fun standing there waiting for her, both of her nipples were stiff and very red from all the pulling.

“You’re late. I almost started without you.” The girl said in a sassy tone. She knew better then to argue the point. If she was late then it had been planned that way by Him.

“No matter, you’re here now and just look at you.” The girl licked her lips. “I’m Betty.” She said with a wiggle. “Not really but that works for tonight.” She knew better then introduce herself. She had no name. “So if someone says lick Betty’s cunt . . . you’ll know whose cunt to lick ok?” Betty grinned and let her nipple snap from her fingers again.

She was a little nervous now. Not afraid, just nervous. If there had to be a qualifier as to who to lick, there must be more then one. She had been with a woman once before as commanded by Him but, now it seemed that experience was to be expanded.

Betty took her hand. “Don’t worry doll . . . you’ll do fine.” She pulled her, “Let’s go.”

Betty led her through the dark hallway into a series of heavy curtains that smelled old and unused. There were bits of rope hanging here and there from beams above. Her eyes were well enough adjusted to see, this place must be huge inside, she didn’t know of any theaters of this size down here. Betty led her through a break in the curtains into a circle of bright light.

The beam of light stunned her at first, making her hold her hand up to fight the glare but as her eyes adjusted could see she was on a stage, the hardwood floor stained dark with a dusty sheen to it of some long ago glamour. Betty let go of her hand and she stopped, staying in place as Betty walked to the far edge of the light. Another girl, equally as stunning, slipped into the ring to join Betty. Her hair was black as well weaved with brilliant blue and deeper navy strands. She was wearing a latex corset that pushed her big tits to even more impressive heights. She had on knee high go go boots and nothing else. Her skin was not tattooed; it was so pale white that it almost seemed to shine in the light. Her pussy, already aroused obviously, was pink and the lips parted just enough that she could see the wetness glistening in the light. She had long, black nails that she was running down her belly and across her lips, digging them in so that she began to leave angry red scratches on herself.

“This is Casey.” Betty announced as she slithered next to the other and they kissed. Then they both looked at her. “Just in case someone was to tell you to suck on Casey’s nipples, you’ll know who to do what to.” They both laughed and stared at her. They ran their hands over each other and almost purred as their hands made each of them begin to writhe at the touch of the other.

Then the silence was broken. His voice commanded her attention.

“Bring out the toys.” He said as he too stepped into the ring of light. He was wearing a dark gray suit. Finally tailored linen that had the perfect balance of power and class that just exuded power. He was elegant looking always. His face with just a hint of five o’clock shadow, his hair styled but just enough frump to not be prissy, his eyes piercing even across the distance.

“Come.” He said holding out his hand to her as the other two girls scurried off to do as he commanded. She went to him, feeling almost giddy in his presence. She knew she was grinning stupidly but couldn’t help herself. She just felt so alive right now, so wonderfully alive as he looked her up and down and smiled.

“You look stunning.” He said and she blushed. “But . . .”

Her world came crashing down . . . but . . . something was wrong. She did something wrong. What had she forgotten? What did she do wrong? What had she. . .

“Shhhh.” His hush silenced her mind. “But . . .” He continued. “I changed my mind about one thing. I’ll explain in a moment.” He said and pressed one finger to her lips. She was flooded with relief, she hadn’t failed him. She felt doubly as giddy now.

Several low rumbling noises made them turn as Betty and Casey returned. Betty pushing a cart loaded with ropes and items wrapped in black velvet, and Casey pushing a large artist easel on wheels. Casey positioned the easel in the center of the spot light and then knelt down and clicked over the safeties, locking the wheels in place. Betty pushed the rope cart over behind Him. Then they slipped back to the edge of the light together and began to once more run their hands over each other as they watched. He examined the rope briefly and satisfied it was all there nodded to the girls. They purred and began to rub each other harder, using nails and leaving angry red marks on each others skin.

“Go to the easel.” He said flatly and she hurried to obey. “Stand on it, face forward.” He said and she stepped onto the two small platforms at the base of the legs. The structure was surprisingly sturdy feeling; it did not wobble or shift at all as she let her weight go against the back. Her ass cheeks were just perched on the cross bar. He stepped up to her with a length of coiled rope in hand.

“Now we start.” He smiled and she quivered. His smile usually meant that she would be in pain soon. He was an unapologetic sadist. He reveled in enjoying the infliction not just of pain but discomfort, shock, humiliation, any sensation that came to his mind. Once started, she was his toy until he was finished with his plans, until he had sated his needs he would use her past fear, past pain, past orgasm, past agony if needed to fulfill the idea he had in his mind.

He made a loop with one end of the rope and passed that behind one leg and then bringing the rope back through it bound one leg to the easel. She did not look down; she stared ahead at the darkness beyond the light and enjoyed the sensation of his attentions. The rope was hemp, dyed black. The surface was rough to her skin as he began to encircle the first leg, each turn of rope pulling on the one before. Each time he slipped the rope through itself, the grasp became tighter and tighter, holding her fast and then bringing that powerful helplessness to her. The rope began to scratch at her as she became more and more sensitive. Her excitement making her more vulnerable and increasing the sensations she felt. As he pulled the last loop through on that leg and then tied it off, the entire construct pulled tight and made her part of the easel until he released her.

Then he began the second leg. Again the rope slithered around her, his hands barely touching her, fingers deftly weaving her into the rope. Her skin, scathed by the rope, rubbed and pulled until each wind of rope became an intense sensation; each pull seemed to echo into her. He finished the second leg and stepped back. The feeling of the lower portion of her tied that tightly made her feel disoriented and off balance. She felt she might just topple forward even though she knew she would not. He stepped back to the rope cart and gathered up more, taking his time so her feelings of disorientation had time to ripen properly.

As he returned and began to tie her ass to the bar, he took special care to use the rope to open her pussy. The pressure of the ropes between her legs applied just enough force to spread her open to the cold air. As he pulled gently, the ropes cut and bit into her ass crack, pinching her cheeks slightly against the cross bar, pulling her groin down against the wood so that her ass cheeks spread slightly and thus, her pussy opened slightly more. She could feel the arousal dripping from her lips. As he worked, as his focus was on nothing but her body and the rope, she felt that warmth running through her. The rope pulling tighter and tighter making her body quiver and burn.

Leaving her belly bare, he next began to tie her tits. She was not hugely buxom but had enough that he could easily get a good double wrap of rope around each tit. Pulling them tight he paused to smile and examine the already reddening breasts. Flicking her nipples with a finger he nodded in approval of her tiny gasp. The rope slithered around her chest and back, pulling her hard against the wooden braces until she was solid against them. As he looped rope around her shoulders and tugged, the rope around her breasts grew painful, the tightness growing agonizing. Her tits were starting to show purple and he once more paused to flick her nipples. The flick did not hurt nearly as much as he slight jerk reaction which caused the ropes to pull even tighter. She had to focus on her breathing, remembering to take breaths. The rope was tied and the knots tighter still until she found herself holding her breath, afraid of the slight movement breathing caused.

He smiled and stepped back. He made a motion and she heard p[pulleys working somewhere off to her right. Then slowly a rope lowered directly over her. She did not notice it until she followed his gaze upwards. He brought it down to just over her and then took her left hand and raised it up. With a simple loop he held it in place as he brought up her right hand. Then, weaving the rope between her wrists, bound them tightly together.

He stepped back and nodded and the pulleys worked again and she felt the rope pulling up until her hands were stretched as high as they could go. She let out a staggered moaning breath as the movement caused the ropes on her breasts and pussy to dig in hard. She began to shake; the pain was exquisite, sharp, pervasive and constant. She could not escape it for even a split second, it defined her, and it encompassed her whole being.

“Now. . .” His voice shook her back to the current moment. “What I changed my mind about was . . . “ He motioned and Betty and Casey came to his side, their bodies scratched with several tiny trickles of blood running here and there.

“I have decided, I don’t want you in white tonight.” He said and she was confused. It seemed too late to change that now. “So . . . Ladies. . .” He said and the two skipped to the cart and unwrapped the black velvet package. “Dress her in red.”

She saw the gleaming blades they withdrew. Wicked, curved, evil things that looked savage and deadly. She almost cried out, almost lost faith. She could have no cut marks on her, no scars that would betray her to her husband. Then she silenced herself. She held back the want to scream, the fear, the panic. She pushed herself through the pain to trust Him. Him she could trust. He would not hurt her . . . tears began to flow.

Betty and Casey laughed gleefully as she wept. Then stepping closer began to touch her with the blades, gently, carefully, slowly. They ran them over her flesh, the sharp edges threatening her with each touch. She tried to stay perfectly still even though the tears made her want to shake and wail. She was silent, biting her lip, trembling, looking at him.

He was smiling.

He was also holding something in his hand. As she watched he pushed a button and the darkness that had bordered the spotlight began to brighten. Betty began to tease her pussy with the tip of one knife while Casey poked at her nipples and sore breasts with another. One of them was also using a very thin blade to poke at her exposed asshole at the same time. She was trying to remember to breathe. The pain and the fear mixing in her mind until she couldn’t think straight. Then the lights came all the way up.

That was when she saw the theater was not empty. It was full. The lights were not bright enough to see features, just forms. Shadowy forms in the seats watching. She started to scream but Betty covered her mouth with a kiss, driving her tongue deep in and stealing the scream before it erupted. The crowd began to murmur began to make noise. Like some great beast waking up, it began to stir.

She was shaking and panting and the kiss from Betty making her heart flutter all the more. Then Casey took hold of her face and planted another kiss on her, just as sweet but harder, with teeth biting her lip as she pulled back. She tried to focus through everything to see Casey’s face but then Casey grabbed her face and pointed her gaze back to Betty. She looked back just in time to see Betty running the claw looking knife across her own breast and then pushing the tip against those perfect perky tits until it punctured her skin, not a huge cut but enough that blood began to boil out and drip down her tit and off her stiff nipple.

Then her face was jerked back to Casey who held her face with one hand as she drew a straight razor lovingly across her own breast with enough force to give herself an inch long slice. Blood began to well up and drip almost immediately. She felt herself shaking, she thought she was cumming but wasn’t sure. So much was happening so fast, she was getting lost in it. She wanted to scream but could not for the life of her remember how.

Then the crowd began to yell. It was a sea of formless faceless shadows yelling things that she could not understand. They wanted something, what? She didn’t know. Then she felt the warm, sticky sensation. She snapped back to look at the direction and found Betty rubbing her bloody breasts all over her arm and side. Then more and Casey was doing the same. They had blood smeared on their lips and were kissing her, they had blood on their hands as they rubbed and grabbed her.

She remembered how to scream. She cried out for an hour it seemed as she exploded. She could feel cum gushing out of her. Then she felt the two girls rubbing her with it, using her own cum on her. She was shaking and panting and hyperventilating and everything was spinning. A bloody niopple was in her mouth. At first she didn’t know what to do and then a voice.

“Suck Casey’s nipple.” Was it a memory or a command, she didn’t care. She sucked and licked and bit. Someone moaned and she bit harder. Blood smeared her face, filled her mouth. She sucked hard and wanted to just eat her up and then it wa