DOTLAN EveMaps

The temperature was uncomfortably cold, and it didn't help that I was only wearing my red leather knee-high boots and matching thong. The chill air had triggered my skin's piloerection response, raising the flesh on my body...and my rose-colored nipples were harder then bullets.

By design, we were in a sound-proof chamber, ten meters square, with a network of exposed metal beams- some five meters overhead. The floor was slick corrugated steel, which I silently loathed due to the fact my boots had stiletto heels. To my right was a single door, and the only exit out of the chamber. Beyond that door were men, standing guard. They were heavily armed and slightly annoyed to pull this job, given the odd hour. I believe they also suspected the nature of my "appointment".

Shivering ever so slightly with adrenaline, I smiled inwardly, gazing at my 4' single-tail nylon whip draped over a corner of the silver-framed mirror. Even with sound-proofing, I doubted the chamber could keep ALL of my client's secrets...though it mattered very little. The men outside were fanatically loyal, and if my client didn't unlock that door within the next twenty minutes, my day would get ugly. Fast.

Click...Click..Click...Click

I had stopped walking to pause in front of a full length mirror, one of three pieces of furniture in the room. I could see my client, in the reflection, some twenty paces behind me. He hung suspended from a hook and winch device anchored to the ceiling beams; foot stirrups covered his Gallente infantry boots and helped to evenly distribute his body weight, sparing his ankles. The only other article of clothing he wore was a black, neoprene sensory deprivation hood which covered his mouth but not his eyes.

I had verbally berated and beaten him mercilessly with a plastic switch for thirty minutes. His buttocks and upper thighs were banded with welts and bloody streaks. I was extremely aroused, but maintained my composure. Touching him was not part of the agreement. And that was also his wish.

Mmphhfff!

Hmm, by the look of things, he was having his own piloerection response...in more ways then one. "Now be a good boy over there or I'll have to use the spray!" I warned menacingly over my shoulder. The spray bottle was filled with water, salt, and lemon juice. It sat on a medical table, made of stainless steel and holding a variety of toys to inspire equal parts pleasure and pain. Like a gynocology clinic smashed into a sex shop. Oh, how I loved my toys.

Mmphhfff!...Mnnnphhhphhhh!!

I ignored his sounds for the moment, though I imagined the three inch plug in his mouth was getting uncomfortable, for he WAS still in training. I quickly took stock of my appearance in the mirror, silently wanting to "wow" him with my finale. It was simply a matter of pride.

The mirror in fact, was for his pleasure, not mine...as he enjoyed watching me from multiple angles. I preened and posed for him a short time, making eye contact with him and even bent over at the waist once to play with the lacing on my boots.

Satisfied that the session was reaching its cresendo, I plucked my whip from the mirror, enjoying the feel of the whip's knot in my palm, and faced him with fiery eyes. Keeping my knees straight and dropping my hips with each step, I walked towards him in a straight line. The stiletto heels on my boots tapped rythmically on the corrugated steel floor.

Click...Click..Click...Click

Without breaking stride, I fluidly began to crack my whip in a slow, figure eight style...my gaze never breaking from his. whrrr Crack! whrrrrrCRACK!whrrrrCRACK! whrrrrrCRACK!whrrrrrCRACK!

Finally, I stood over him and set one heel on the chair next to his head. Hands on my hips, glaring down at him with a dark smile. I knew he had a very good view of me, from his inverted perspective.

"NOW! Let's get you cleaned up, you WORM!"